Sprinkle storiez

Day 41 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Every Morning He kneels for a miracle Arms stretched out As if to pluck off a guava fruit Sun shuts in Darkness excuses light He widens his eyes before the sun He withdraws and sighs It doesn't work It won't work Not near possible Crawls back to his friend Bed of stones He bares his hurt on her As he drags comfort in the piercings Of each stone as they resound Into hundreds Wangling through his black skin He snores into the night Finds solace in the whistling Of redemption songs by tiny Crickets He spit words,the lines of I'm half dead What does the colour red look like? Sand Leaf or blood What is life without sight? I'm half dead He sobs back to his bed of stone again This time saying fervent subtle prayers Dear God, Take this blind fold away I can't live in the dark Else I leave early I live on people's recommendation I have no choice Let your benevolence shine on

Day40 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge I hide my tears when I say your name But the pain in my heart is still the same Though I smile and seem carefree There is no one who misses you more than I When I close my eyes I dream of you When my ears are open I hear your name I'm privileged to have you beside me I feel best when I'm around you As time goes on, the love draws close I can't prescribe, because it has no dosage But I will always be there at hard times to make sure things rhyme Though sometimes it seems exasperating but I pray for times it would be Exhilarating Though I love you, but my mood brittle My heart cries but I do not bridle I pray I keep sighting at your countenance Because my expense on you are extravagant I pledge my loyalty to love compliance, And promise absolute compliant because... I AM IN THE BOSOM OF LOVE Nwobi Chudubem Valentine

Day39 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Olufela Olusegun Oludotun Ransome-Kuti; That was the name your parents Stapled on your forehead like clips holding fast to a napkin on the wire, Your visual identity It’s sad your breath left before ours came Leaving our ears to tales of you and your music. We still listen to your songs; We loop your voice until it pats our sun lashed backs to sleep, We regurgitate your lyrics like the sun does itself every morning And yes we still dance to them, As feet take turns to introduce themselves and the bodies they belong to You are the true hero; The dauntless crusader, And your song was a transcript of reality The very one we live in Umpteen times father would play your record On the old turn table And though we were cradle, We could still connect to your voice until you became a home culture The years have sped past, Father joins you beyond and we still keep the ritual, It keeps his spirit close

Day38 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Go ink the writer's pride! Write out all her joys that is now sad Be sure to show simply clear How religion has quarreled with her Tell every kindred of the books That they must write to comfort her pains Cry loud you people's consciences! Cry so that your tears can sail the paddles of hard 'heartedness' Wash them from their heads to the sole of their feet, So that they can remember how wicked their good decision is And bid them to comfort her pains You who are fathers of the law! Have you not seen how broken your rigid seals have become? Did you not agree that we have the freedom of religion? Go now to the tormentors of Leah And teach them the law that will comfort her pains Fellow friends and free peoples! Tell Leah now that you have no hand in her plight Say no comforting words,nor make loud cries Do not forget how her feeble strength has given you great courage Now, rise up to the

Day37 #365daypoetrychallengeforadvocacyandsocialchange When our parent ate at Eden's table A bite of fatted knowledge Then came the fall like a DOOM! The messy end of an over-riped fruit Fingered by a thousand solider ants If ignorance is bliss Shouldn't you be blissful? For you say, I better not know truth and remain aloof I love the styled closed mouth cuttings of my apparel For this ignorance keeps me guarded from creation's fall The quarter moon has appeared in thy eyes Beckoning on your beam For knowledge dances over thy hair, lend her thy stand And wisdom flaunts her curves, seducing you to her bed soaked in the rarest of Gilead's balm All you only need, extend thy hand. Don't point to the serpent. Don't woo at the woman For we are trapped in this garden Where is ignorance is bliss and wisdom beckons. Believe in the magic of believing. Don't let thy hands cut thy short Extend! Veralyn Chinenye is An Award Winning Poet

Day36 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge I think of the moments when All life would be valued the same, And every child would have the Comfort of knowing he/she has food And shelter... I think of those days when we will Finally realize that many of Our youngsters are in liberated chains, Shouting and screaming for a Little bit more liberation... But this isn't a poem about my thoughts So, my dear siblings, let me address your concerns and lament the pains you feel Where are our leaders; the ones who claim they've come to change the irony Of our lives? Where have they been all this time, When these younger ones stay in villages, wasting precious lives Farming, and picking leftovers from farms? Where have they been hiding, when all these young ones do is Utilize their years felling trees and getting wives and husbands before eighteen? Where have they been, for there are no roads to lead us to where these kids reside The 50 years old h

Day 35 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge See- There is a way we-men die everyday, this poem is one of them, for each letter is broken into pieces of condolences Do not search for rhythm in between these lines if you don't know the true colour of rose flower Do not search for rhythm in between these lines if you don't know how sagging breasts Find the taste of rebellion on the tongue of vengeance Do not search for rhythm in between these lines, if you have never found your sight pregnant of tears and blood, or your sanity groaning, moaning, drowning and panicking beneath the intense river of thought Do not search for rhythm in between these lines, if you have never beaten your chest and wished to become one of those things reborn to the womb of flames and Gomorrah Do not search for rhythm in between these lines, if nature's beauty has never reminded you of your beast, or each of breath struggle for a Fill of oxygen Do not search for

Day34 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Greed is a disease of pot bellies, of tales that are make believes, of corruption dancing loops through years of hidden truths Greed is the bullet that kills faster, when set against cyanide pills, it is the very notorious reason for our country's guilt of treason against the labouring masses, yielding unexplainable loses Greed is the synonym of damnation, a sentence placed on a nation whose only seeming sin is hope on altered human beings Greed is the grand genesis of the mass hysteria that persists, governing everyday life as wicked monarchs wielding knives, it remains a constant presence, an undying monstrous presence leading our reality to sudden death whilst in pretence of promised birth Greed is the mother of suffering, guised within seductive offerings; it is the most beautiful tower housing the deadliest powers, it is the sweet voice of promise caging

Day33 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge I imagined his heart galloping like a horse's Hooves as he made it to the abattoir And as he accepts the 'inescapability' of his fate Surviving the banality of the world around him I collapse into his arms, soaking he's bosom with snot and tears and saliva I hear him say, "let this one pass me over, lightly like a smooth rock rolling down the hill Down my back, my skin, like a soothing water" Not my will... The only time he distinguished night from day Was the movement of his bowels -in hunger or in purgation I felt like draping him over to myself Like a cloak to be warmed by the warmth of my sin Not my will If only, he had a way of choosing the manner of His own death, if only... He could make it spectacular and momentous For there are so many faces jostling to get a glimpse of his thorn. So many bodies pressed together, men and women and children, one of them, he thought, "mi

Day32 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Yesterday, we heard four boys fell in between petal and thorn, trying to puck the feathers of a butter(fly). Yes four boys! _of a boy: Who wears the face of a god, Tongue of sermon, caressing, kissing, and converting a girl's temple into wet scriptures of romans and solomons Of a boy: With the complexion of love Filling, drilling, the sacred spaces between our lungs with dark hallelujahs, turning our bones into jericho and d.u.s.t. Of a boy: Wearing the body of the sky, burying his head in between eclipses and hell, placing his soul on a stammering tongue Of a boy: With the body of a cobra and rod flipping and planting lust in between a woman thigh, making her the only city that doesn't recognize God -an hell without fire So i ask myself, How can a butter(fly) without feathers? Then sanity repels, like the opposite sides of a magnet-like north from south Perhaps! I do not know of erosions or

Day31 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Look through the yards and yarns of our yards Where our waists and benches work for a day And our voices and reactions strive for a seat. Right there, you'll see them all broken, Swimming cheerfully in the depth of the ocean of blood If you can visit our farms To see how our groundnuts and yams survive, And the grasshoppers propose to the weeds in peace Then the sickle only visits for his due You will barely smile As the blood of the farmers sweep through your feet See how sad our happy faces have become. From the verandahs leading into our cathedrals, Our folded arms have refused to unfold And our swift walks have bluntly refused to become smart Seeing the red oceans that overflow the sacred altars Perhaps the only sounds we heard in our sanctuaries came from the Holy Scriptures But, its cries have overwhelmed the admonitions we received . We have seen the Bible's face tearing from the cuts and

Day30 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchange Again, I watched another pass me by My faith drenched, my spirit quenched, Only me, just me, no one to comply I sit with a stench As my saline fluid drops, my eyes clench My crayons; my only ally, My crayons are what I need to retrench, So, I must raise my voice to end my distress And to crucify Unto myself I do not dignify, But in my class, I should rein Sign the vow at the orphanage, though diss, But nullify So my wails will not be in vain My foster, my rainbow, I always drew my tomorrow Ken Odenigbo is a 20years old Poet studying Economics at Paul University, Awka. He owns a blog(kenslitepen.wordpress.com), where he post poems alongside an APP to ease convenience to readers and followers. He is working towards a dream of becoming a better Poet.

Day29 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge Nigeria our fatherland Twinkles with father's love Blessed with beautiful people Dark and comely With a government that has gone mad Neglecting the people of the land Terrorism and ethnic militants In the North east and South east Suffering and smiling has been our faithful guide We've gotten used to our trials Nigeria cannot be defined without corruption Misery has been attached to us We depend on foreign coin Even with the abundance of oil It is said that Nigeria will get better But that can only be found in the domain of hope We hope it happens later But now it seems we are sliding down a slope Jude Alexander hails from Ikono LGA of Akwa Ibom. He is a poet and a writer who uses writing to express his feelings and to impart his views about people and the society at large to others. He enjoys reading, writing and making new friends.

Day28 #365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge "Citizens of this notable nation Cry of your needs we have heard Cripple shall walk; lame shall run Change! that's what we need" Humble persuasion of the sweet tongue 'Hat-less' 'lead-ass' recited dynamism like poetry Head over heels; change has changed our agog Head in the clouds is the society. Asshole rock of pacesetter Abode of abnormal change All is trade by barter A thing or two is a victim of change. Nitwit we must have been Never asked what manner of change Negative or positive Ampicillin? Newly adoption of waveless sage. Gallant resources of the past Growing down to be valueless like refuse Gluttonous greediness of 'politrickcians' Go to pot; they have changed our uplift. Editor in chief to emperor in cheat Ex gratia we hardly have to survive in the society Ego and superego; did you put in pit? Every amenities are elusive like morality. (STANZAIC ACROS