₦airaland Forum

Where's everybody gone
I op this is the same rhyme weavers' zone
- Or have I jumped the gun!
Let's get back to town
And keep painting this thread red!

Pls come.

@ Jesussfreak

Brilliant poetry; great philosophy.

Pls keep it up.

@JonAdoga

Hit me up pls. Sms 08060641635 for my email.

Write about it. That's what I do. It may not work for you. Chances are it will make plenty of difference.

Keep writing.

Ciao.

That is your prologue, you said. so build it up. You may want to contact me on +234 01 2195050 or +234 8060641635, then I may give you my email addy for better contact.

Till Nature calls us all up, the issue of the essence of poetry will continue to flog academic literature.

While I would do my best not to be academic at all, i strongly believe that the holistic concept of "art for art sake" is substantial.

Many a persons want to create an art solely for the sake of creating an art. a good example is wen u create for a competition, . . .

Expression in any case, remains the main index of poetry. Therefore, that is the MEANING. As long as the writer has made an expression, it IS, so, it MEANS.

On the other hand, a poem might just be for a particular purpose; The poet takes into account the rules of the game and ensures his work fulfils all righteousness to have an "acceptable'' meaning.

Obviously because society is govern by a set of norms, fulfilling such norms usually attracts credence, and vice-versa. This is the crux of avant guardist artists. . .

Shortly, the sociology of literature remains that every aspect of society is mirrored in literature. Thus, nothingness is a meaning in itself. . .

So, let your poem BE. Create it. Leave the critique and the headache to the critics. That is the only way they can comfortably remain in business! Don't worry, they will help you give it a MEANING.


@ POSTER

I've some works I wish to publish, can you link me with your Archibald Mcleish. +234 01-2195050 or +2348060641635, or bttmonarchs@yahoo.com.

Ciao.

Hi y'all

stillwater:
[center]Prologue[/center]

Cold, austere were the first few words that came to Oliver’s mind when he sighted the approaching figure. At first he thought the figure looked like a woman's from afar, but hell no, no woman could have such a strong facial features as well as like to be seen in such traditional male clothing.

Good beginning. The suspense is right only that our imagination is stupfied with the reality of the image, when the atmosphere seems to have been hazy given the mood. Hence, I am not comfortable with the "strong facial features"

“Is that the agent?” He asked Bukky, his personal assistant come acting secretary of just a month. She was light skinned in complexion; about five feet seven in height with a perfect mouth shaped for the most dazzling of smiles.
They had known each other before he joined the company a month ago. Then Bukky came into the States as one of the qualified persons to accompany the CEO when the idea of having a head branch office in Nigeria was newly begotten. Then they met business like but ended up being buddies.

The plot is significantly developing. Too much information is lumped up here. The descriptive style earlier started has been grossly betrayed by 'incoherent' narration." Too, too many typos and grammatical blunders eg assistant come acting secretary, a head branch office, they met business like but ended up etc weary us.

“They said he would be like six feet tall, dark skinned, and this one looks six feet to me.’ Bukky replied as she looked around her environment. “This is such a nice place,” she said. ‘If I were you I’ll take it.”
“You’re sure?” Oliver scoffed. “Or are you just tired of looking at houses?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” she admitted, challenging him with a frown. “After dragging me all over Lagos in this—this scorching sun, you expect me…”
“Dragging you?” Oliver queried returning his own frown. “You talk as if we walked all the way here and didn’t come in an air-conditioned car. Do you at times forget I’m your boss?”

Boring. This is simply because you emphasised dialogue among the characters without developing them by putting an effort on the personality of the characters, which is vital for an expose (the beginning of the story)


His question was one Bukky loathed and he knew it too. He also knew that he will have to go through a history lesson of how she had been eyeing the position of being the exalted MD before he came along.
“Your majesty,” she proclaimed making a little bow, “forgive my insensitivity to your esteemed position. I was only trying to relay my thoughts, considering the fact…”
Oliver could only smile and watch her display her act because he knew that it was best not to argue with her only if he didn’t want to end up getting annoyed himself. Though her lips were moving, making apologies, her eyes spoke otherwise.
“—before you were, I was…”
“Hello.”

The beautiful suspense of the first paragraph is yet to return and you are actually lossing my interest . . .

[b]During their conversation their expected agent had sneaked up on them and stood there for a while before intruding. Bukky’s mouth was left hanging by the intruder’s imposing voice and was Oliver grateful for it? Yes he was.
“Hello,” Oliver replied in his usual formal tone. “Are you the agent assigned to us?” He asked.
“Nobody told me I would be dealing with an American and a beautiful young lady. The name’s Ade, Mr. Ade”.
The agent stretched out his hand and Oliver took it into his.
But Bukky asked.
“Is there no suffix to the name? As in Ade-bayo, Ade-leke, you know what I mean” she added much to Oliver’s benefit.
“No, it’s just Ade” he answered.
“Anyway” Oliver spoke up quickly. “I am Oliver Jones.”
“And you my princess are?” Ade smiled, addressing Bukky who was looking irritated due to the unnecessary attention he was giving her.
Sensing her irritation, Oliver answered.
“Her name’s Bukky,” he supplied and continued. “—and since we’ve gotten through the formalities can we see the house now, -because we really are in a hurry.”
“I’m also in a hurry.” Ade replied soberly, but his face suddenly lit up as a thought sprang up in his mind, though he hesitatingly spoke out.” Would you mind if I left the house keys with you?” He asked.
Bukky gazed up to Oliver and then to the agent in amazement.
“You mean to leave us to go through the house ourselves? Is that proper?”
“I’m very sorry for inconveniencing you,” Ade responded looking from Oliver to Bukky wondering who was really buying the house “I’m already late for another engagement…
“Then you could have come sooner,” Bukky interposed.
Ade pleadingly looked at Oliver, who appeared more like the buyer. “I’m very sorry, but look on the bright side, by my leaving the keys with you’ll get to see what most agents wouldn’t want you to see, also find things that would change your lives”
“Change our lives?” Oliver enquired at the use of language. “Uuuh” he made a sound of fright “I’d like to find those things that could change my life.”
Ade smiled. “There’s a guide,” he said producing a large white pamphlet, “… for directions.”
“The keys,” Oliver asked after the cool steel touched his palm. “Who do we give them to when we are done?”
“I’ld come personally to your offices to get them,” he promised.“Are you okay with that?”
“That’s fine by me”
With a trusting look on his face, Ade said all the thank yous and goodbyes and left them to the ordeal facing them.
“That’s weird. I don’t trust his kind” Bukky said.
“The guy was polite”, Oliver intervened.
“You call that polite? Or are you one of those guys who don’t look beneath the surface? You are in Lagos my man, open your eyes. The actual phrase here is “shine your eyes”
“They’re already opened and shining” Oliver retorted.
He really was tired of all this you’re in Lagos talk since he got into the country. But Bukky was not defeated by the look he gave her but continued.
“I mean open them as wide as you can’ she paused as she looked at the lofty white one storey duplex with its huge wooden front door and reflecting windows.There was a huge mango tree growing at the back of the house. The leaves sprawled and stretched covering half of the duplex’s roof. Apart from the surroundings having a serene atmosphere, it had this deserted look to it. That was when it dawned on her that the last house they had seen on the same route they had taken was like a fifteen minutes drive from here and then she began to wonder what made her say she liked this place earlier on.
Brilliant narration.
“I don’t like this house.” she spoke out without thinking.
“But a few minutes ago, you said…” Oliver responded coyly but was immediately interrupted by his PA.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s go see the place”.
[/b]

Beautiful narration. keep it up. Work on your punctuations and build your grammar.

[b]The path was quite narrow and no one would expect an expensive looking, black Jeep with dark windows be parked in the bushes at such an ungodly hour.
But it was there.
There was no sign of life not until a dark blue Mercedes started coming up the path. The driver of the Jeep got out, positioned himself by the left door of the back seat. He was tall and had a face that had been recently battered by someone.
The Mercedes coughed to a halt letting out a tall man in his early thirties. He was on a navy blue caftan
and low male slippers. With just a curt nod, the driver directed the new guy into the Jeep and closed the door.
“Did you get anyone to see the house?” A deep and heavily accented impatient voice demanded hoarsely.
“Yes I did”, was the response of the guy in the navy blue caftan. “I managed leaving the keys with them…”
“You didn’t see them enter?” The man with the deep voice retorted harshly.
“Not real…”
“So you are not sure if anyone got into the house? When I discussed the details with you were you listening at all? Please get out of my sight before I use you instead”. The voice bellowed thunderously.[/b]

Brilliant work on this section. Amazing adjectives.

On the whole, try your hands some more on stronger adjectives personifications, similes and metaphors. For example, compare your "There was no sign of life not until a dark blue Mercedes started coming up the path." with my "The silence of lifelessness was broken by the humming of a dark-blue Mercedes S class that lazily crawled up the path."

I have great respect for your imagination. Keep experimenting with words, they are the best of toys I have seen.

Always build your expose properly and carefully; remember, every faulty foundation . . .

I admire your courage. It's the winning attitude. Too many people can write better than you, but they will never write till they die because courage/confidence eludes them

SEE YA. GAt to go. . .

call 01-2195050

Ciao.

Rather be kind than be right!

princesa:
hi guys i just got inspired

here it goes:

the young mother

could my hands hold him for one more time
my baby, my heart, my beautiful one
forbidden, you've come to blessly curse my world
twas a careless course and you it cursely begot
so a need to hate you, a need to hurt you fills my sense
for all those moon i knew you had brought all ends
to my young, growing and blooming tree
but yet seeing you with this blue eyes, i wish we were tree
you, daddy and i under the beautiful winds
not young, not old but enough to have you with us free

now you must go, your new world awaits u
i've got a tree and shattered heart to mend
take him! take my boy!! take my life with you
i will pass him oneday and he will but call me a freind
my back is turned, my heart is hurt
but i must go and face the worst.
my baby, my heart my beautiful one

I know. . .
Don't ask me how
Because baby, I know

Wasn't it Emerson that said Poets can't keep secrets
But if you must Princess, gladly do without regrets

I bet, you kissed and told
But it's good you are bold

'Young mother', I might be wrong
Doesn't mean my point isn't strong

But I know
Princessa, that you kissed and told
If not so
Call me a toad

Ciao

SECRET ADMIRER

Solemn was the song
That we sang for long
When you and I
Tossed ourselves high
And expected that the moon
Will rise by noon

But the moon went yew-yawning
And left us to our silly groaning
Untill we came to this side
Where we can no longer hide
But of course we may
If we still find pleasure in going astray

Blind, is the song of the mind
When we refuse to find
A perfect rhythm of our kind
Or when our kind
Ignore the music in their mind
Leave us behind and choose not to be kind

That is the song that we've solitarily sung
Because we have refused to be hung
To each other in the matter of the lung
But I know it won't be long
When my secret admirer will harken to my song


I long.