A poem dedicated to my siblings ; Brother Yusuf, Aisha, Abdulazeez and Halima Olalere

I will hold my pen to bed

When the day comes with no words for poetry

I will dream of our infant voices

as mother warns us to quit the dashes

Yet we will run into to the kitchen

Hiding and seeking

Happy and smiling

That I may wake and forget

the nice warm memories of once upon a time

When we played childishly

'cause we were truly children

I shall dream of them

Even if they are now dusty voices

A paper on my chest,

And a pen on my right

While I layed in bed

I had penned a poem before that goes thus ;

"I dreamt of our infant voices

         As mother warned us to quit the dashes

        Yet,we ran into the kitchen

         Hiding and seeking,

         Happy and smiling"

Ibrahim Olalere

Like my facebook page fb.com/poesypoems 

 to get more

It happened on the 24th day of April- a day I never imagined!

Who would have thought that such life altering scene would exist on his birthday?

For a very long time I had shied from clicking the send button to diseminate my newly composed poems and articles... but this day I murdered my own fear....

Reasons most people like the former me shy away from writeup sharing is mainly because they fear criticism...

If you dont like my story, write your own

Wole Soyinka

Hey...look here... I advice read out your write-ups very loudly to yourself. If you enjoy it - who cares what the critics says.

Well I took my own advice; I read my poems to my own ears, I smiled at my own God-given talent. Lucky me!  I finally realized I was good enough to reach the world  and let them discover the little gift I had shyly hid.

Alas!

They loved them...

They celebrated me...

And I liked it...

Hmmm;

I wrote again,

Again and again

Till my critics turned into fans

And now I am wanted...

 I need you to do the same...

He just stood there.
Perhaps he feared the passing men,
whose feets threw dust at his innocent eyes
while he shyingly rubbed and cried.
That lonely boy is the son of a mother...
Yet he says again ' Mummy please give me a ten naira'

Once, he stopped to give a straight gaze at the watching me.
I had wondered how cruel our world is becoming,
to have left this child scavenge the dirty streets
and beg so heartily for his daily meals.

Maybe that made my reason for moving very much closer
to so much assure him that he isn't a loser.
"Where is your mother"was my inquiry
before his little story took three drops of tears;
The first was for his shining ribs
The second, for the filty rag that covered his dring chest;
and the third came with my emotions at his little story:
" mother isn't in this world...
...I am here alone to cater my empty belly"

I pitied and patted his back
and my lips reached for his hollow Chin
Then I offered the orphan a half of half bread...
Here, he returned a cute dimpled smile
... How could i have forgotten to ask his name.

I walked a few paces away from his corner
before turning to say goodbye.
But my happy friend had vanished between the air
No...No..No! He wasn't a little ghost!
I think...;
I had seen an angel smile...

Olalere Ibrahim

Dear friends, it is with great displeasure that i write this one... I am not craving for your sympathy-not at all! But I shall let you have a taste of my paining story. 

No! I won’t bore you with all my emotional jargons_ so my story will start from the end;

...and that was how the 21st century was crowned the most non-resourceful of all centuries

A spy on the past would reveal how much zeal and passion existed in the minds of our forefathers to pen every of their thoughts, ideas and discoveries. They worked selflessly for the sake of we_ people of the new generation. 

I am pained because we have failed to sustain the legacy of those men who built the foundation of the construction of a luxurious planet. I am even more pained because the youths in this age languish lazy in so much ink yet never thinks of penning down any of his ideas.  Okay, as a proof of our guilt to this intellectual impotency, I shall let you answer just one question.

When was the last time you created a write up?

I am cork sure that a sincere answer from everyone would reveal that over 80% today’s youths write averagely only twice a year. 

Have you not ever thought that you might be a burden to the would if you continue reading those nicely published write-ups but you never for once make one of your own?...Well, the plan of this article is not to scold the selfish folks whose pen never spice up a piece of paper_ but I write to highlight the importance of "excessive “writing. 

"The world of books is the most remarkable creation of man; nothing else that he builds ever lasts. Monuments fall; nations perish; civilizations grow old and die out. After an era of darkness, new races build others; but in the word of books are volumes that live on still as young and fresh as the day they were written, still telling men's hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead.

                                                                                                               -Clarence Day"

If only we would all re-awaken our sleeping minds and re-appoint our relegated pens to continue the construction of a gallant castle for our tomorrow....

Hmmm....  I hope that pep talk did something and if it didn’t trigger even the tiniest writing passion in you, here is a sincere advice from me to you.

Ø  Stick with poesywriters.blogspot.com and continue clicking on our mind warming updates fashioned at making a good writer out of you. 

Ø  Stay tuned to receive updates of both domestic and international essay competitions

Ø  Do not forget to come around to get news about writing in Nigeria and around the globe.

Signing out…