₦airaland Forum

Expressive poem.

In what language is that animal called "Okapi"?

By the way is that a deer?

Don't look in a mirror at night, you might see what you really are - a ghoul. (Ha ha!)

Sorry I didn't seek permission b4 rushing in. It's us that I felt your work like I feel my skin and,

Whoa!
Where have I been?
mactao. Son could you tell me where the hell I've been?

sisikill,

our new buddy, bloody bluespice, howdy?

ok.
today I read.
tomorrow I might lose a patient and nopt be sorry.
How fulfilling!

I feel u Nella.
_{I'd give an arm and a leg to fall in love.}

@ mactao
u are something!
No, that topic u're proposing is something!
How do y'all wanna do it? _{thinking 2 myself} people would actually be willing 2 pay 4 concepts like this to explore, even make a movie out of it.

@ Sisikill
Oruono na omume. This topic seems tailor-made 4 ur mind. Now there's finally someone who can do wat I wasn't man enough to do - murder u, or at least get a topic that will do same; better still, a topic that will make u murder u.

The name on Mactoa's story is definitely not mine. Okay, I'll give you a clue and since you're in Kano, you should be able to find someone who can help out. Okay 2 words, first word starts with H, Second Word starts with S. Name means Gentle Mannered. . . yeah, I think that was wishful thinking on my parent's part. The poor dears.

I will ask around. I dont really have much doing these days; I'll be done with service in just about 13 days.

@ mactao
U finally read it. Thanx just 4 doing that.

@ Nella
U think it's unsafe posting here? R u published yet?
Looks to me like I'm not the only one who doesn't love to see boring stuff, or cliched topics or approaches to same. May I ask something(s) u mustn't answer - though I hope u will answer, is it just the topic that bores u, or does the concept bore u too? I mean, are u in love? Can u really stay in it (love) the way majority of those works that u loathe portray it? Or have u developed ur own meaning of it?

@Lovelace
Ur comment is generous; I am grateful.

https://www.nairaland.com/nigeria?topic=157871.msg2619813#msg2619813

Nella, check that link out. It has a love poem on it. BEFORE u press that button, just know that it's a different kind of love poem. Its psychological setting is actually the aftermath of the persona's strong love.

Hit me when u've seen it.

https://www.nairaland.com/nigeria?topic=159206.msg2688645#msg2688645

@ mactao
that was for u. Check it out.

@ Sisikill,
I didn't mean to ask if "Sisikill" is ur real name. I meant the name on mactao's story page - permit me to put it that way - now u don't want me saying the name here, or does it not matter?

@ mactao
I'm still reading ur work. Nice. And I think u ought to go check out one of mine that's been begging 4 ur attention 4 a long time now.

@ Sisikill
Is that ur real name? Y d'u like the anonymous thing anyway? I know how long it took u to tell me where u're @? Is that supposed to help u with the morbid, "scary" image somehow?

@kay9
Hey thanx. I promise I won't mispost again - _{except I seriously, hmm}

Would love 2 read one of ur stuffz?
I dont have all the time now else I'd have typed ur name in the search tab. Y don't u hit me with some links or don't u post ur work on this site?

Thanx Nella.
U write too?

Sisi
ok,
alright
I'll post something tomorrow

I really have to go offline now but I read your analysis and

you know what, tomorrow

StephenP
talking about people not readin things that aren't about love, I posted one again yesterday and not even a single response.

Check
https://www.nairaland.com/nigeria?topic=159206ysg2642394#msg2642394

@ Orikinla
It feels good to know you read my work and dropped a comment. I sing too - I guess that explains the musicality in it. As for performance, hm, would love to see that done to this work but I never thought about it until you said it.

@ Mactao
that link above needs your attention, please.

The Day I Forgot to Wake

Day broke
others woke
Sun shone, maybe sun forgot to try
to cringe my pupils
like he was wont to try.
Time, insensitive as time
ticked on, inscrutable.
He to whom a pause
on good Friday was
impossible.
Can he now at least
two millenniums older, learn rest?
Only rain, unsalinated
dropped on me
from eyes of strangers
for eyes of lovers
now focus on others
who woke
when day broke
and I alone forgot even to try
and carry but an eiderdown
to frosty six feet down.

Time will not have learnt
stop
when I shall remember
a new way
to wake.

Note: SOS Mactao, Where Are You Now?

@ True Brit
Thank you for reminding me what I already know but ignored. I apologize to all that may have been hurt like you by my display of disregard for the rule. _{Need I say that I am sorry for ruining Nigeria or contributing to same.}

@ Sisikill
I thought you probably don't visit the Poems forum a lot that's why I hurt our dear friend, TB _{plz don't misunderstand this}). I posted there before like he rightly pointed out.

@tpia
Your observation is very right. It's almost always about the sex(es). Same is obtainable in the music scene these days - I'm almost totally fed up with my life (music, that is) nowadays - but hey, I can't help but live it anyway.

I actually do have a few things off love and will try to post them.

@mactao
Please, your criticism is just as welcome. It's only that Sisikill opened my mind to this part of literature and while I baby in it, I want her eyes to guide lest I krash and splatter my blood all over the forum.
So do drop a word for I'll be honored to read.

Hands-on Loathe (Pre-murder)

I know this hand
Hm. I know this hand
It touched me once before
when my heart was in my groin
holding up dear phallus.
Soft strokes, hard throbs
juice and jelly
Back when I was the fool
who thought we were two

I know these eyes
Diamante devil's pearls
ice in a girl's sockets
I served time under these eyes
for love - maybe lubricious instincts.
Ludicrous now
but this stare had the dictate
weather heeded around me

Sand, you know how my eyes
stared down at you
when her 'ice' were too cold
to behold
You recognize my skin
when in droplets it concocted
with my blood, my sweat, my time and you grains
and my teeth cracked konkiri^a

Sand, hm, you know blood?
Hm. Blood bloodier than the pool
of my blood
when I, flotsam and jetsam
drifted, a recluse
to an island of me, me and blood clot of mine
will splatter on your grains
with splotches of her brains
once that hand that robbed me
once, rubs me again

Onwekwaanu idea?<sup>b

a</sup> - concrete (Igbo)
^b - Does she even have an inkling? (Igbo)

Sisikill, your criticism matters.

Hands-on Loathe (Pre-murder)

I know this hand
Hm. I know this hand
it touched me once before
when my heart was in my groin
holding up dear phallus.
Soft strokes, hard throbs
juice and jelly
Back when I was the fool
who thought we were two

I know these eyes
Diamante devil's pearls
ice in a girl's sockets
I served time under these eyes
for love - maybe lubricious instincts.
Ludicrous now
but this stare had the dictate
weather heeded around me

Sand, you know how my eyes
stared down at you
when her 'ice' were too cold
to behold
You recognize my skin
when in droplets it concocted
with my blood, my sweat, my time and you grains
and my teeth cracked konkiri^a

Sand, hm, you know blood?
Hm. Blood bloodier than the pool
of my blood
when I, flotsam and jetsam
drifted, a recluse
to an island of me, me and blood clot of mine
will splatter on your grains
with splotches of her brains
once that hand that robbed me
once, rubs me again

Onwekwaanu idea?<sup>b

a</sup> - concrete (Igbo)
^b - Does she even have an inkling? (Igbo)

Your criticism matters.

Your eye pockets are sagging
overloaded with pain.
Your pride, tail-between-the-legs dragging
Love has been - wax and wane.

I sigh
You sniffle
My heart skips more than just a little
You turn your back on me
as I reach out my trembling hand
and
touch
your shoulder again.

If you really mean to say
that I should "just go away," then
why are there tears in your eyes?
If you are insinuating
"we should go our seperate ways," then
why can't you look me in the eyes?

NoteI know the title might be inappropriate. I suck at titling)

Would love to read the book but I'm in Yola, serving the nation. I doubt if I can get such stuff in this town. Guess I've got some waiting to do.

Sisikill:
By the by, how have you been? I hope the hot sun hasn't bested you!

@Sisikill
I'm not doing too badly under the sun or in the rain because that's what I signed up for when I joined the Youth Service scheme. It's part of the anthem and thankfully, it will soon be over - September @ the most.

Sisikill:
I'm a lean mean love fighting Machine!!!

Hmm, I guess that makes you sort of sexy. The type that would fight for her love after falling into it with a loud thud.

@ HCH3COO
Thanx.

@ibkaye
I asked u a question sometime on a thread about classical music and u didn't reply. Kud u try checking ur posts and perhaps try replying.

@ Sisikill
That's how it starts when it's going to work - u saying a seemingly determined "my mama (or in ur case "grandpapa") said baby be careful/ if anybody comes to say oh oh oh oh I luv u, "

I didn't count my words - hope they meet with the rules of engagement

"Where were you last night?" They always come up with some weak thread. I was in a class in Concordia college, Yola reading for my CCNA Discovery 1 test, punk. Does that answer your question?
The last string of these thoughts still abound when my phone rings.

'Where were you last night?' she goes in a query tone.

She's not my girlfriend. I met her at the NYSC orientation camp. We had a few ordinary chats, stole a kiss a couple of times and now she asks daft questions. I drain every pleasure from my tone and demand her sanity status in an "are you ok?"
She riled me. She knows me well enough to tell she has, or maybe she's pissed me off frequently enough to detect my anger response pattern - not like I'm a robot though.

'Where are you now?' she rephrases.

That would have been a far better beginning than echoing the lame line of this dumb thread I'm replying - that is me thinking. I dismiss her quickly with the obvious lie that I would call her back. She knows. An SMS comes through half a while later that sends my grey spinning; rhythms pick up pace in both my temples and my wits pack up and skedaddle. She's just trying to get me to apologize - that's it - why else would she be pregnant? Or do babies now join forces with ladies, I mean, form when they feel their "mother" ought to punish their, no, I can't call me that, that name.

Some to-be-or-not-to-be, then I call her back later.

"I'm at your door?" I say.

For some eternity, I stay mute while she sobs. I let her accuse me in a litany of the sins of men to which she adds nothing newer than at least a thousand years old. My mind is in her womb, scanning for fetal throbs, then in her face scanning for errors in make believe - for that's what it ought to be - that's what I pray it is.

'Please, don't do this part just yet. I'm sorry, but let's be calm.' Those were not premeditated. They just flowed freely from a seething stream of anxiety only being managed.

A strong brawn comes out from the adjoining room. I don't work out, I'm not huge but he is. I try not to think about him but he is all over the place though he's standing on just one spot.
Whoa! I know that look, no, I know that face. He is in her phone photos; he is her elder brother! Hmm,