Made of Many Worlds – Poem


Girl Hair

I was born, brown-skinned and a black-eyed girl,

Into a blue-eyed spot in this world –

Blessed with black, thick and rather frizzy hair

Where hair tends to be silky, smooth, mostly blond.

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When I was a girl, maybe twelve years old,

I would lay my head down, on the ironing board

Because a real iron could tame my real hair…

Benefits seemed great… Risks? I didn’t care.

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Sometimes, I would hurt my neck

While trying to look more like my peers…

My silky, smooth hair would cover the scars,

But couldn’t heal burns inflicted upon my ears.

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Finally, my strands lost all strength and shine.

Hurt, bridle and broken, they told me the truth:

Silky and smooth was not to be mine

What was, however, was a gift… divine.

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Some say, I cannot relate to the black woman’s plight.

I’m not brown enough – they say, again and again…

And yet, in the white crowd, my skin’s far from light.

Well, that’s not a loss – it’s actually a gain…

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Some say I’m neither, but I share both bloodlines

So, I take the liberty to claim Angelou’s lines

“Out of the hats of history’s shame, I rise”

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain, I rise…”

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There are descent and wicked people, in every place.

As Shakespeare well said, many years ago,

“There’s no art to tell the mind’s construction in the face”.

This line could apply to the subject of race…

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There’s more that connects than divides us, you see?

I won’t get offended if you disagree…

But, do look beyond the cover, listen to my words –

We live in a world made of many worlds…

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I live in a world made of many worlds…

Even more come alive in the depths of my mind

I pray that this world, made of many worlds,

Becomes one in the One who is color-blind.

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Besides, I’m the world that lives within me…

Letter by letter and word by word –

HOW I look at things determines what will be!

My own world gets recreated, every day, by me…

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I’m no longer looking for my place in this world…

His sweet spot within me is what I’m striving for.

In the midst of it all, still, I have to believe…

That right now and after will surpass before.

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Conversations with a Clock – Poem


old-man-clock

He lived among waiters. They surrounded him
Waiters on the outside – a waiter within
Waiters for their birthday
Waiters for more money
For the kids to leave home
And rain to stop raining.

Once upon a time, he met a wise Clock
It could speak and so it spoke:
“Tick-tock, tick-tock …
If you teach your heart to be grateful and kind
When your time arrives you will not be blind
Tick-tock, tick-tock …”

This waiter was in a rush –
He kept chasing better times
Hence, his ears were widely shut
He’d much rather skip this chat.

Yet,
Tick-tock, tick-tock …
This clock was determined to talk:
“Your life will not last forever…
You cannot afford to be happy never
Tick-tock, tick-tock …”

That verse had the waiter seriously ticked-off
‘Well, I can! And, yes I will!
Clocks can’t tell me how to live!’

“Tick-tock, tick-tock…”

Quietly replied the clock.

giphy clock

Time waits for no one –
Be it Clock, or be it Man
Tick-tock, tick-tock …

Seconds, minutes, hours, smiles
Running fast before his eyes…
Many wasted, every day…

Always chasing what’s away.

.Without words, yet with each TICK
The clock found him more convinced –
Each day truly was his birthday
And life was a birthday gift.

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Slow Walking Man – Poem


Man Walking - Poem
‘Man Walking’ – image by Adam Podlecki

This bench of mine is a little far,
Thick fog & the rain keep blinding my eye
Yet, I’ve embarked upon a task –
Observation of that guy…
Walking, in a misty weather
I noticed him take…
Two steps forward, one step back.

He keeps walking though…
Slow, slow, slow…, but steady…
He keeps on… walking…

Oya! Oya! Honestly,
Someone, shoot a film about him –
Series called “Unhappy Feet.”
Same old picture, every day,
Rain drops falling on his head
Every day, the same old way…
This must be the pace of a snail!

He is rude. Never does he say “hello”
He stepped on my toe a few weeks ago!
Yes, I step on his toes – time after time,
But… my feet are smaller than his –
I’m a lady. He’s a man…

Err…

He’s a walking man, actually
While I am a seating lady…
Wasting my time watching him.

Eh?!
Yes, he might have covered but a little ground,
But I’ve just been seating here. I have covered none!

Oya!!!
Within his slow walk I have parked my nose
Focused on his journey rather than my own…

Oya! Oya! Oya, me!
Watch no more…
Girl, move! Move! Quick!

Meaning of “OYA!” – “Hurry up!” (Nigerian)

 

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Flower Petals Around Her Eyes – Poem


Flower Petals Around Her Eyes.jpg
Croydon Graffiti

She was a beautiful girl

With flower petals around her eyes

Many sad pictures they’ve seen,

This life was born into lies…

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She was created by love

And had a pure little heart…

Yet, before she turned seventeen,

Her face was far from His art.

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If the house, she lived in, had eyes and ears

It would hear constant weeping

It would witness her tears.

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Thus, her soul embraced many a crime

Pictures she saw changed who she was –

No, it wasn’t just time…

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Just like her mum, she too became wild

She quit school at thirteen

At fourteen, she was carrying a child.

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She gave birth and her baby away

Since then, she’s been drinking, every single day.

She tried many evils, under the Sun…

And she run, she run – like a wild horse she run.

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While searching for love and for an escape

She became familiar with the pain of rape.

So, she run even faster, but could not run away

Until… she yielded and started to pray…

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Only then, she knew she was truly heard.

He sounded unlike the others, who yelled,

Punched her belly and slapped her face…

There was only love within His embrace.

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Amazing Grace!

It washed her mind and erased her curse.

Now, she was ready to embrace His verse.

She became His child. She was fifty, by then.

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The world had told her she’s worthless,

and yet… He bought her…

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His Life was the Price!

They studied wrinkles she had acquired

He focused on petals around her eyes.
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She had nothing to give, but gave Him her all
Now, the world sees art – not a dirty wall.
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Art of Books – Start Them Young


BL S & IMy kids and I have just visited the British Library for the very first time. Loooved it! Would you agree that there’s beauty in being surrounded by books, books, and… you guessed it… more books?

I was amazed by the King’s Library and the ancient historical treasure Codex Sinaiticus (Sinai Bible) displayed in one of BL’s exhibitions. Reportedly, the latter was produced in the middle of the 4th century and it is the earliest complete manuscript of the New Testament plus the best witness for some books of the Old. Usually, members of the public aren’t allowed to take pictures of it, but if you ask it will be given as the book says… So, I asked and received the permission to take one shot. Thank you, kind BL person! 🙏 Please check it out in My Instagram Highlights “Art of the Book”, if interested. 📸 I was told that people come from all over the world to see the Codex as well as Magna Carta which is another significant part of the same exhibition…

When gazing at the tall glass tower of the King’s Library, my daughter (photographing Anne Frank’s sculpture in the pic above) sighed loudly with her arms wide open as if trying to embrace the volumes. This rather theatrical scene caught the eye of a passer-by stranger who then smiled at me briefly amused by her “ode to the books lookalike”.

sang ode.gif

  • “Amazing, isn’t it?” I said acknowledging the book tower.
  • “Yes, it is” he answered.

That was it! He went on his way and so did we… No one said a word about my book–aficionado’s symbolic, although exaggerated, gesture. Yet, it brought about a brief, memorable moment of connection between us book lovers. 😂 Soon after, another passer-by glanced at my kids aged 6 – 12, smiled at me and said: “It’s good to start them young”.

  • “That is so true.” I replied.

And then, my son dropped a bombshell (in my mind) saying that the library was a great place to hang out… ‘What?!’  the fun-police in me reacted on the inside, ‘we’re here to LEARN – not hang out! You’re here to expand your minds, blah, blah, blaaaaah…’ ‍Thank God, after my brief internal turmoil, it clicked… He just needs to fall in love with the atmosphere… Of course, I want my children to see the library as a great hang out spot (sort of).

It was wonderful to explore knowledge with themphysical books, books on the screen, history, a little bit of art and music from Chopin to strangely sounding noises which resembled mating birds more than anything else. For a few hours, we have walked up and down the national library. By the end of the day, they were gloriously exhausted (no bedtime drama) and enriched at the same time… It was good for mama too.

So, stay calm and keep on turning one another into a book lover… If you’re a parent do start them young. 🤸‍♂️🤹‍♂️🤸‍♀️

And, if you’re into poetry and/or books about relationships please check out my Poetry Collection “Love, Don’t Fear.

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Taking Happy Mental Pictures of the New Year!


 

Happy Pictures.jpg

We spend so much time reminiscing good old and bad old days… That’s fine… It’s okay to look for motivation or lessons in days gone by. Having said that, why not spend at least the same amount of time visualizing our future…

Once we’ve captured the beautiful picture of what we want to become we should lock it in our memory bank until it comes to pass! Start taking beautiful pics of your future right now, and remember them throughout 2019.

Happy New Year!

Remember your future

When the past is bleak

Remember Tomorrow

When you’ve had a tough week

or a year, even many tough years…

which have left you discouraged and weak

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I pray for your strength

When you’re weary and drained

That you focus your mind

On remembering good days

Again, and again, and again…

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Just remember your future,

Picture it in your mind

Decide what you want

What it will be like…

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Stop remembering your past

Don’t repeat old mistakes

Start remembering your future

Let it find you prepared…

What’s happening in my world of fiction…


… And non-fiction.

We’re coming to the end of the year, so it seems as good a time as any tPK Boadi Collaborationo touch base with you briefly… What have I been up to lately?

Book-wise:

My last poetry collection “Love don’t Fear” is still very much alive and well. I am looking forward to another wonderful “Love don’t Fear” collaboration with an award-winning gospel singer PK Boadi. This should be fun!

Someone has asked me recently if I’m going to write more books… As a matter of fact, I am writing a novel! Drum roll please… Yes, it is happening – slowly, but surely. If you’re a writer, you probably know this feeling when a story is just bugging and begging you to let it out!

This is how I’m feeling right now, hence I’m doing my best to not “abuse the muse” by ignoring the story and denying it the right to be free… Title? The book’s title is “Everywhere and all the time” and I am planning to share some of the excerpts here while I’m still in the process of writing. This should help me motivate myself to get that book finished. So, that’s that when it comes to my books…

Oh, actually, that’s not it. I’ve just received this sweet “Love don’t Fear” review on Facebook. Check it out please & if you haven’t read the collection yet consider doing so… Angelina (Reader)“Love don’t Fear” is a great read and a sweet Christmas gift. It is all about relationships, expressions of love, and better ways of handling conflict – embellished in beautifully written stories. Christmas is about love, but conflict happens when loved ones come together in numbers… even if it’s all neatly edited by the time holiday pictures reach our social media accounts. 🙂 Anyways, primarily, this season is about God coming into the world, and “Love don’t Fear” is a spicy reminder that He is the source of love and the beginning of peace within relationships. Please check it out.

Back to Facebook, genuine connections with people who read my writings are really the main reason why I “love” social media. Angelina (in the pic) lives in Arizona. Whaaat?! I have never been to the USA, and I don’t know if she has ever been to  the UK. I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon, never swam in the Colorado river… 😦 LOL, I don’t even know if you’re allowed to swim in it, but my point is she’s a beautiful Native American woman, and I am Polish… (no, really, I am) and Nigerian. We live on two different continents and yet, we’re connected because of poetry and because of this social media machine…

Well, on the flip-side, I am concerned about the sheer volume of information we give Facebook access to, but that’s a whole ‘nother story for another time… maybe…

Finally, still on the social media note, I’m happy to announce… that I have just hopped on the Instagram train! I know I know… it’s kinda late, and it may not be such a big deal, but I’m having fun, and thought you might want to JOIN ME… Please do if you’re so inclined. 😉

Well, this is what’s happening here.

I hope you are well. Thank you so much for stopping by! Since my next post is likely to come after Christmas I would like to wish you a very merry Christmas right now!

I shall finish this post with a rather appropriate lyric which has been on my mind quite a lot lately – “Joy to the world… Joy to the world…” 🙂  ♥

Number Seven – Poem


Number 7 Man

Even when I do all 6 tasks just right

You still focus on the seventh

Which is done, just not quite…

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Your kudos last but a minute

Criticisms never stop

It’s annoying just like dripping water

Drop, drop, drop, drop, drop (it)

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7 is a symbol… of perfection

Is that what is needed to avoid rejection?

How about 6.99?

Will 6.99 secure your affection?

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As You turn Love into Math

You’re turning joy into pain

Can we scratch number 7?

So, His Passion can reign!

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Can we cover one another

For as long as we’re alive?

I have never met a 7

Not even a 6.5

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The Plea of a Gnarled Tree – Poem


woman tree

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. I’ve been thinking about you a lot

You capture attention – mine surely got caught

So, here’s my reaction to your heartfelt plea

The plea of a gnarled and exhausted tree

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This detail won’t stroke your ego

It won’t make too many mentions,

but the road to hell is paved with details,

or is it ‘with good intentions’?

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Never mind…

I know you mean well,

Still, one cannot ‘good-deed’

Their way out of hell…

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Even so…

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In doing good we must leave no stone unturned

Yet, Grace is a Gift which cannot be earned…

This gift is not carved into tablets of stone

We cannot reach peace on our own…

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Bread can be hardened, and yet

You can never turn stone into bread…

The truth’s independent of one’s belief

If you bite into stone, you will break your teeth

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Some say truths are many, but how many are there?

And how can those ‘truths’ contradict one another?

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There is only One… for the old and the youth

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“What makes me think that I’ve met the Truth?”

I am Free Finally – I take that as a proof

There is mercy and grace for those who repent

Even to the gnarled trees that are twisted and bent.

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Where are you growing to? – Poem


Woman - Sunflowers

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“You are rising too fast

You are aiming too high…

Courage is foolish –

Brave people die!”

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‘Where are you growing to?’

‘Why such a rush? They’ll implore

‘It’s just your pride…’ They will add…

‘We don’t believe you should take the floor!’

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Yes, one should challenge oneself

And one must question their thoughts…

Not to succumb to misleading voices

or misdirection of untamable wants…

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Where are we growing to?

Are we growing at all?

Are we rising to greatness?

Or preparing to fall?

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Reaching out to heavens,

Or in the other direction?

Are our minds filled with ego?

Or with divine perception?

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If you’re growing the right way

There is no need to explain…

Critics won’t go away

They will forever remain…

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So, keep on growing to where

You were created to grow…

Don’t let the skeptics define you

Enticing your mind to stay small

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So… what about you?

Where are you growing to?

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Our days are numbered you see

We have limited minutes and hours

After the danger of spring frost is past –

Have courage to bloom… like Sunflowers!

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