Skip to main content

BROTHERLY SPELL by Sandra


Day75
#365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallenge



To be stubborn is not a bad thing
I have learnt from Ojukwu to dive in
To dive in and to thrive in it,
but of course one day you will have to run away and leave it

I have learnt from Fela to not stop when it's tough
To become that basket mouth that opens up again
To let fear be the force that drives us to our gain,
and not the force that keeps us in chains

Like Osadebe I'm using a form that is sure,
to do a work Chinua Achebe saw - that is strong
Although they think to this world that it would stop
They try by all means to make me stop

A sign that I can't see neither can I hear because I'm on top
But of course,1
One day I will run away and leave it because it's tough
I have done that before, yet it crawls to me,
Who would bear my cross?
Damn, it's tough

I say to myself that I can't do everything
Because in me is not everything
So I will have to gear up with you like the Arimathean
Because you will be the one to send this sprinkles on its course
Soul!!!




Sandra is a simple, complicated, multi talented poet, ex - footballer, kickboxer, a guitarist, masseuse, cosmetologist, anatomist and the list is endless. She has written poems for different magazines such as The Legion magazine, Anatomy students magazine etc. She writes poems for fun and for bucks. She is simply fascinating.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LESSONS FROM TWENTY SOMETHING(s) by Veralyn Chinenye

1, Stop Counting people's blessings ~ It is interesting to admire your friend's success, but don't try to compare and contrast, you're different persons and your paths have been mapped out. When the temptation to compare especially on bad days fingers my eyelids, I pull out my gratitude journal and write out five things I'm grateful for. It could be as little as being able to keep to time or even for being mentioned in a good will comment by a friend. Being grateful opens us up for more. 2, Try Leadership and Politics ~ I think there are two different things, one is seen as good and the other is seen as bad. The mention of the word "politics" get us grabbing our bags, and the mention of "leadership" gets us spreading our clothes in the open. My involvement in both has impacted my life and my dealing with others. I see both as siamese twins. Politics makes good leadership and Leadership makes good politics. You should try it! ...
17 comments
Read more

Miles from Independence by Tydale Bassey Abigail

Day87 #365daypoetrychallengeforadvocacyandsocialchange Our cloths have torn Our hairs grown bushy Bones emaciated and legs swollen Muscles displaced And our vision discouraged... The path behind us looks abandoned by haggard legs, Bushy as if untrodden See, our babies have died Our kids starved Our boys imprisoned Our girls raped Husbands and wives betrayed And the aged disappointed... Yet the eyes of our polity bulges like the blind statues of Nok Culture We used to have hopes, But they are now tired in the arms of abortion The promises of independence have become stillborn; Mutilated with the bamboo of corruption. Even the wishes that once painted our eyelids Are beginning to wear away Yet the senses of our constitution have breathed only heat on the sore skins of our destinies The song of the national flag has become the loudest noise sung by toothless leaders; A pirate declaration to our unity in diversity Our capital cities are plinths...
8 comments
Read more

FACELESS

She, with her gentle smile, crafted carefully to hide the storm that raged within. He, with his quiet strength, a mask worn to protect the brokenness inside. Both survivors of a pain that had no name, no face, but lingered like a shadow in their hearts. They told her to endure—because girls are resilient, aren't they? They told him to be strong—because boys don’t break, do they? But what they didn’t know was how deep their wounds ran. How the darkness of night wrapped around them both, suffocating their dreams, Or how the silence became their companion, as they each learned to carry the burdens of their untold stories alone. She tucked her tears beneath layers of laughter, her voice fading into whispers no one seemed to hear. He buried his shame beneath an armor of indifference, pretending that nothing could touch him, even as the weight pressed down harder. They were different, yet so much the same. Two souls, marked by trauma, bound by a shared truth: that pain knows no gender. I...
Post a Comment
Read more