Letter to Prof Wole Soyinka
to the stone that sharpens axe,
kudos.
to the stone that grinds pepper,
kudos.
to the bird that swallows snake,
kudos.
to the woman who swallows man,
kudos.
to the man who swallows lion,
kudos.
to the hunter who returns
from exploit, when the day breaks,
kudos!
poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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The New World
The world‘s upside down
You wear your coat front -backward
You think upside down
You make me feel awkward
Yet I am not that surprised.
Cow milk, you took
In place of mama’s milk
no wonder you moo,
Jump and chatter when you dance
Cause like monkey you rode
on mama’s chest
A right that should be your dada’s best.
Your behaviour isn’t that strange
No respect for grey heads
For cow have not
Neither do monkeys in their colony.
You care not if you commit felony.
To your neighbor you care not
‘Cause already you’ve gone nut.
poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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A Pain In The Ass
I am too moved to be moved
Too hungry to be hungry.
Every day I live a stranger to myself,
A riddle boxed in mystery,
Why I survive I cannot tell.
I was a proud Nigerian,
Dead yet living.
My pride, a victim,
Of assassination by my folks.
Bombed out of me, yet I live,
In the gory of senseless glory
Many prides massacred the bokoharam ways,
How I am surviving I can tell not,
Fears, I feel no more;
No boldness comes my way
But brick wall of fear I become
The one in me, I feel,
Turns the one outside dwarfs.
The fire is intense on the roof,
Yet the house owner smiles and dines.
[...] Read more
poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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The Cross I Bear
I STARTED
WITH STEP SO FAST AND ASSURED,
A TREK FOR LIFE
A TREK FOR SURVIVAL
ARMED WITH "PAPERS" AND CONFIDENCE.
EVERY CORNER I TURNED
EVERY PLACE I VISITED
THE STORY IS THE SAME
NO VACANCY PLEASE OR MILDER;
WE SHALL CONTACT YOU SOON.
I GROPE ON,
DAY BY DAY I STUMBLE
ON THE ROCKY FLOORS OF OFFICES
WITH HOPE THAT HAD DIED
RESURRECTED TIME IMMEMORABLE
I MOVE ABOUT, A GHOST,
WITH LEG TOO WORRIED FOR CARES
WITH BODY TIRED BUT NOT RETIRED.
THE GHOST IS EVERYWHERE
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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Eko Akete (lagos Nigeria)
Eko akete,
Where our wisdom is lost,
Where our identity is missed,
Where blind man leads full sighted folks
Where emotion is an alien
Where secularity under plays religion
Where leaders are led on goat’s string
Where men are beast to men,
Where thieves hold rallies
To the applauses of their victims,
Where all wisdom is lost
Where folly plays in high quarters
Yet,
Eko akete,
You’re home of wisdom.
If you know too much you’re of no good
If you know too less you’re a bike
If you’re moderate you are of no use
All are horses for the home-boys
Eko akete,
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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Many Faces Of Love
Love they call it but it get me confused.
To my mummy, it is called love,
The one for my babe affection yet it’s love
The one for my work, dedication yet love it is
Love just another name for caring for my baby
When engulfed by passion, love in action
They say my devotion to God is love for Him
My dear Love,
How many faces hath thou?
Like chameleon you change cloth
Yet you come in beautiful colours
All to you good attributes put,
You are gentle, caring, persevering and enduring
You make me feel so much an imperfect being.
But with you in me I feel so great
The world you make so worthy to live in
My heart you made a world of its own
A planet that houses so many loving people.
I can be in so many place same time
Cause with you I am every where
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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Almajeri
With arm stretched in my front,
The extension of my arm you see,
Sparsely populated with coins,
The round little bowl I admire.
The only tool I know.
And every, this I wedge,
In me, the legion of hunger to fight.
They know I am here
But me, never they see:
The pimple on their comely faces;
The tares among their wheat.
Everyday many I become,
Never here but always here.
To every crime, my side, the fingers point,
Even when it seems to lack all points.
‘Cos me, no one to defend.
In the comfort of the street corner breed
Like roaches happily fed on crumbs of fallen bread.
Curl, in the dark on my stony beds,
Down town where we stay,
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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The Broken Salt Pitcher
Something happened, one I never forget.
Whether caused by a Demon or an Angel I cannot tell.
‘Cos a moral lesson was taught from a sin so grave.
This farted in my mouth and poured in honey.
Honey I love; fart nobody cherishes.
My siblings and I were playing like normal kids,
In the visitor's chamber after mama left for her trade
Papa never came home easy, for his work;
Itinerant trading; from coast to coast went he.
That fateful day, whether Devil's or God's work I will never know
Bang, bang, bang, the ball I threw went
The direction we could control not.
Set in motion for fate to decide.
With a loud crash, the pitcher hit the floor.
Salt and enamel all mixed together.
Just then papa stepped inside.
Who broke this pitcher? Nobody responded.
Straight to the room he went.
I, conscience pricked did the confession later.
But papa said something else was broken.
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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When Wisdom Is Lost
When wisdom is lost what do we use to find it?
If the head is cut why should the cap become prominent?
Where the wall is broken, who clamours for keys?
When the man is burnt who still looks for beard?
'Tis only a fool that looks for the mark of cut in water
He only can look for the tracks of flight of birds
Or better still want to know what the corpses eat in the grave.
When wisdom is lost, the elders dance naked in the markets
Passing calabashes of palm wine in merriment.
Sleeping while riding their bicycles.
Where wisdom is lost the cobra looks like a rope;
Yes an ill wind that blows no one good
Oh why should the footless die fighting for shoes?
Or the toothless die for bones?
I am confused. Yes logically paralyzed.
On the wheel chair of wisdom, I see
Where the elders defecate in the open
On paths where their offsprings tread,
And in market squares where it must be
That in four days they must be back
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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My Fairy Tale
As I alighted from the express electric train,
My eyes traveled to the happy people;
Concentrated smiles of contentment playing
On the nourished faces
As they were belched out of the sub-way,
Chattering of their beautiful day
I smiled to the tram that blocked them from sight
But not good enough to block the happy echoes
Of the happy trident voices,
Ricocheting from brick to metal walls
Bouncing with laughter, saying,
God bless Nigeria! God bless Nigeria!
I picked my ways through the speck less street,
Hurrying my feet to meet my honey-heart,
Who was to arrive through the leisure cruiser
Ferried on the debris-less water way
Accompanying her recuperating mum
Who just won the battles against osteoporosis and renal failure
Thanks to the free medical services of the world's best government
I belched, the rich aroma of balanced food
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poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
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