₦airaland Forum

Queeneetah:
A model like me;
Walk on the runway,so everyone can see:
face fierce and bright;
And beauty that takes the spotlight.

A model like me;
act expression, silent word
The camera, friend like no other tell better parts of me;
and a finer version of the world.

A model like me;
Each step taken is captured;
Crowd seeing how she can be;
Even though some flaws covered;
Human she is,and can not be close to perfection;
And about her, they wallow in their imagination.
By
Queeneetah

Nice poem

Epluribusunom:
To the aged and youth I shall retell,
A tale long gone, of a pixie diety
To whom finespun lies many a man fell
Whose gift is a curse to men;old and young
Spuns his web round the hearts of the piety,
And so lures men to doom with his glib tongue

Let the lore be told upon all houses
Of a stumpy god, con man of all time
A stony wall, monger of the vices
Oft able for which that is good and crime

On every junction, thus seats his prime throne,
As he roves the earth, clad in black and red,
To work havoc and so many misled
From our very age to the age of stone.

I love the luminous language of this poem, short but precise;good narrative, thumbs up.

PANTOUM POEM

A Pantoum is a type of poem with a verse form consisting of four stanzas. It has a set pattern within the poem of repetitive lines.
The pattern in each stanza is where the second and fourth line of each verse is repeated as the first and third of the next. The pattern changes though for the last stanza to the first and third line are the second and fourth of the stanza above. The last line is a repeat of the first starting line of the poem and the third line of the first is the second of the last. Confused? Look below for an example.


Nigerian army at war

Remember those who died for us (1)
They did not die in vain (2)
They gave their lives and their trust (3)
So atrocities of war are never again (4)

They did not die in vain (2)
So pray for them everyday(5)
So atrocities of war are never again (4)
We must never forget, but remember (6)

So pray for them everyday (5)
Honour those so brave (7)
We must never forget, but remember (6)
Our freedom they did pave(

Honour those so brave (7)
They gave their lives and their trust (3)
Our freedom they did pave (
Remember those who died for us. (1)

You guys should try it out. Best of luck

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Texanomaly, divepen, michaelok, giyazz, nickz,
firestar, Bamibor, osiawa, kagari, elvisosho,
maxwellbaba, tjkdzyanju, AmiableJay, lordidol,
mrwhat, davep, firestar,TemitopeDaniel, repogirl,vonn, Royver.

Cc:Seun, lalasticlala,mynd44

Title: There is nothing new under the sun: Gidan kowa ( first part of the novel)
Author: Inuwa Usman
Category: Mystery
Price:100 naira

In the quest to protect and save Al-Warith his grandson from the killer of his parents, Mallam Balarabe encountered many obstacles,Will he prevail?
Download this book: https://okadabooks.com/search?term=There+is+nothing+new+under+the+sun

Noblecares..com

I discover and write about the unknown Art and Culture. Check it out

More still coming...

liznificent:
My heart aches, yet numb as though on a full dose of anaesthetic
I'm tatooted from the many lessons of life
The sweet memories now nightmares
Haunting me all night & 'day'
The present, the slave master urging me 2 move on
Never to look back or turn Lot's wife
I missed YOU but life, a master
I fought to disobey but failed
It cut my Taurean excesses (big time)
You are not everything
But you are everything
You are real as real can be
You absorbed my fears
You armoured me up
Restated my identity to me
Pushed me out from the shelters
The shelters of self-doubt and depression
To battle the enemy within
From the ship of personality disorder
Into the dreaded ocean of greatness, you threw me
I swam, drown nearly
Nearly never killed, I survived
I stand today, I'm a survivor
You are a champion
Now the great Time had dished out its inescapable new status
Strangers now left in our place
Looking at each other from across a distance
In the confinement of our egos.

This is awesome dear,thumbs up. Check a sample of a narrative poem from Rudiments of poetry thread.

divvy:
I'm writing this to you,
Telling you we're through.
I can't take you anymore,
Don't know what I liked you for.
All you did was wear me out.
Now I know what you're all about.

You came to me with promise and joy,
Now look at all the things you destroy.
Families, lives, bank accounts, you see.
You ruined it all with one little tease.
Look at the way you make me feel

Then you take it all and want me to steal

Why can't you just go and hide
Somewhere far away where I'll never find?
Everyone at home doesn't understand
How you rip me apart then lend me a hand.
I keep coming back thinking inside
Maybe this time I'll make you my bride.

Then I sit and wonder why,
Why do you really want me to die?
Thousands and thousands come to you
Hoping and praying you'll help them through.
Then they fall for your lending hand,
Only to realize you're nothing but a scam.

You promised me heaven and sent me to hell.
You ruined my life and then wished me well.
Watch me now as I go on my way.
I'm washing myself of all your pain.
So you and your power can just leave me be.
I'm taking my life and setting it free.

This is a good one dear, thumbs up. Try out "the Bop poem", check the sample from Rudiments of poetry thread.

llaykorn:
How Poems Rise Into Tomorrow

When Adamawa dies with fifty of its children
You will find a news blog that has the pictures.
Young bodies shrouded in white, drenched with blood maps
will teach your mouth to whisper white roses, then red, then brown,
then plucked before they blossomed and you will wait for the wind
that takes flowers before their bloom to blow through your window
and take you too to the sheltering arms of the dry sandy soil beneath
Adamawa.

Sometimes it is photographs from Borno that teach you how to mourn.
You will hear shovels in the photographs digging to find home,
and widows and mothers and sisters sobbing into their scarves,
then silence ascends into your body as if the photographs held
the face of fire, as if silence can also be smoke from burning towns,
silence rises into you like the the footsteps of darkness, slow, sure,
creeping into town at midday.

When the newscaster says the names of cities, you block your ears
He says Aba, he says death, he says Aleppo, he says more death
and his voice is the edge of a cutlass, smooth, sharp, hacking cities into
slices of pain too thin to hold between your fingers without getting cut
The news teaches you that all cities are the same: there are
more humans running from home, than running for home
Sometimes when there's a flood somewhere, you imagine Earth as
a toddler who bursts into tears after trying too hard to be strong.

Tonight you're writing graves into poems, cities into poems
You're writing three hundred girls that never came back home
You're watching your poems shatter the darkness in the room
You're smiling at the way your poems rise into tomorrow like
dust and smoke and hope and the scent of roses:
Brown, then red, then white,

Good narrative bro

kingtomix:
With my pen and words,
I could paint the world on a page.
But just as the setting sun,
The inspiration fades away,
My thoughts begin to hurt,
As the words bring pain to my head,
My pen becomes heavy,
Just as my heart before it began to bleed.
As I grow older it will get better,
This I was told because time heals all,
Yes! I will grow up,
No! It won't get better,
Because you're my muse and you're not there.

Good one Bro, thumbs up

Queeneetah:
My kind seem like we are worthless,
We are mistakes from creation and we are useless;
A man's world they say, then why need a woman to make it complete and even better;
Construct transactional love of trade by barter;

Opportunistic Men everywhere afterwards they refer to my kind as materialistic,
'cause that's how my kind understand her existence
In disregard to her womanhood and refer it as realistic;
But my kind we are rising in her outward Prudence;

With great understanding of whatever my kind is given she multiplies;
Yes my kind is worthless because you can't price or quantify her worth,
Yes she's invaluable and beyond calculable or appraisable value with inestimable worth
My Kind, We are PRICELESS.

By_Queeneetah

This is awesome dear, keep it up.

bokunrawo:
Not completed, still working on it tho


AN ICE CUBE OF FIRE❄⛄⚡�

Clothed in modesty
Forged out of mundane humility
Lighted in the illusion of self glorification
Exhumed by vanity
Flawless show of hypocrisy
A ball of Fire enclosed in an ice cube

Danger looming in the atmosphere Foolish humans belief that all is fair
Wolf in sheep's clothing infiltrates mortals
Trust being captured in strong metals
Hidden pains entrenched under a cover of open gains.

How do we discern good from evil?
How do we decipher Truth from Lies?
All lies in the purity of the heart
Just like a warrior that goes through the battle like a conqueror
Just like an old sage that depends solely on his wisdom

This is fabulous bro, try out narrative poem and The Bop in Rudiments of poetry thread. Thumbs up

REDInks:
PEACE

Have you seen the lonely waters at sundown,

Her tranquil is a medication to aching hearts

Her daily companion is a never lasting lover

She tip toes to visit but goes when I'm in need.



Nobody experiences her touch with regards

Regards for her every presence, every second

But she is a bitter sweet experience

There today, but leaves on the morrow.



Even I yearn for her every second expended

She calms raging storms with her voice,

She wets desert halls with dew drops of love

She is all we need this life and after, PEACE.

First a teaser...then after like 50 likes, I complete the poetic story.
Make una no vex

Hello bro, you have a good write up here, keep it up.

rayvelez:
Pls continue.

Alright, I thought no one is following.

Hello dear poetaster, hope you are having a wonderful time?Here is another type of poem.

NAME POEM

While a name poem can be as simple as using an adjective to describe a person that begins with each letter of that person's name, these poems can also be far more beautiful works of art. For example, here is a name poem for a person named Aishatu:

Aishatu seems quite shy and somewhat frail,
Intuitive, like a tree averse to light,
Shifty away from her delight.
Healthy ,and play around at night,
Always singing to the moon throughout the night,
Touching and waking souls at rest,
Under the pleasure of her lovely voice.

You guys should try it out.

Jeffry701:
I need someone who can write touching and heartbreaking stories that can be converted into a short movie. i also need comedy writers .. please comment if you can do it. i'll pay well.

Whazapp me 07036338900

Bamibor:
I've been good sir.
Thanks for asking

You are welcome

.......

The Bop is a poetic form that was developed by poet

Afaa Michael Weaver

Here are the basic rules:

3 stanzas

Each stanza is followed by a refrain

First stanza is 6 lines long and presents a problem

Second stanza is 8 lines long and explores or expands

the problem

Third stanza is 6 lines long and either presents a

solution or documents the failed attempt to resolve the

problem.



Our leaders took us for granted
And made us a faze.
They promised us probity,
But rather force us to deceit.
Is that how we suppose to be treated?
Implementing laws on us that we cannot beseech.

Love is just enough to carry us along.


When you are campaigning for a seat,
You promised us ritzy,
A bliss in our abode,
Rather you choosed to ignore us
After you've achieved,
And leave us in a cage of poverty and depletion.
The youth toiled around and requested for a chance,
But they were used to fight each other at the end.

love is just enough to carry us along.

It's time for us to astute,
Especially we the youth,
It's our time to fight for our right,
we are the leaders of tomorrow,
And we need to show that,
Show them that we can turn the table around, and pomp

love is just enough to carry us along.

This is beautiful isn't it? You guys should try it out.

GuidoVanRossum:
Wow.
Thanks boss. You just boost my confidence.

Just keep on writing Bro

GuidoVanRossum:
ANONYMOUS

Before I close my eyes every night, I remember you.
You who effortlessly put a crack of smile across my face.
Face so bright, grinning with joy and with a plaster of care all over.
All over the place I turn you stretch out your arms in a friendly embrace.
Wait! What's your name?
I never asked.
But I call you anonymous.

The stars look beautiful each time I stare towards the sky at night.
I appreciate the wonder of God's creation when I see the endless reach of the sky.
The perfection in the creation of the flowers, the bees and their purpose in the fertilisation of flowers is such a wow!
However, I derive my strength from you my anonymous.

Some days I don't want to stand up from my bed because I was too tired from yesterday.
Then I think about the fact that I will see you.
Sometimes I have reasons to want to allow the tears drop like a balloon in free fall.
But then I see your smiling face and my injury become healed instantly.
We are under this pains together. The sun is tearing down our head like fire. Yet you offered your cap to protect me.
We were beaten and battered together but you will rather nurse my wound before you attend to you.
What an exemplar sacrifice my anonymous.
The other day I wanted to quit.
I wanted to bid the world goodbye and take a walk to the heaven.
But you insisted I stay.
I lost my voice.
I lost my strength.
I even lost my respect.
When others enjoy the ridicule of my person.
You stood me up only to stand firmly beside me to never allow me fall again to their amusements.
What will I do without you my anonymous.

Please help me rate this.

This is awesome Bro

Bamibor:
Nicely written sir.

How ave u bin Bro?

NARRATIVE POEM

LETTER TO MY BIG BROTHER

A narrative poem tells the story of an event in the form of a poem.
It may or may not rhyme.
It could be short or long.
It has a beginning, middle, and end.
There is a strong sense of narration, characters, and plot.


You were always a risk taker,
Especially on a bike; you liked to play with air.
My mates thought it was funny, it was fine,
When you carried them and played the fool.
Riding with no hands, hanging out the sun prey,
Shutting your eyes and generally being a goof,
Thinking you were some Evil Knievel.
Did you know you'd cause this upheaval?

You raced 'round the street, flying over speed hills.
Didn't you realize that sort of riding' kills?
Tayo and chidozie, they screamed with excitement.
You forgot we were the kids; you were the adult.
We banged our heads on the bike handle,
And laughed ourselves silly, the truth?
Every time we ride with you,
We risked our lives; sounds bad, but it's true.

One day, June 17th, you were riding' me home from school.
Did your usual stunts then crashed into a woman,
hitting a 75-years-old woman, Mama Solo.
We escaped with nothing but bruises.
How is that fair?

I am angry and sad that I can't hide.
It's all your fault you can't excuse it.
You were the one that revved it.
I know you're punishing yourself, having trouble sleeping.
I told you and told you to stop your reckless riding.
This was the only way you'd learn, you'd never hear sense,
But I can't leave you, because you are my brother.


Isn't this beautiful? you guys should try it out.


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CHAPTER TWO

“If you are filled with pride, then you will have no room for wisdom.”

About 9pm, and everyone was already asleep, the trees rested, the birds were exhausted, the moon brightened everywhere, the breeze

blew, and spread coolness to the whole place. Mallam Balarabe was seated on a long bench with Al-warith, they were at the compound

that was as big as a football stadium.

“28yrs ago,” mallam Balarabe began. “Your mother saw the first light of the world, I was very happy for having a child; I danced, rocked

like a reggae artist. I thanked Almighty Allah for given me the precious gift. Unfortunately, an hour later, your grandmother gave up a

ghost, my joy turned to sorrow, I lost the woman of my life, but I had no choice, only Allah knows best. It took me months to get over

her death. I was optimistic because I had my daughter.

I worked so hard just to satisfy my daughter. Sometimes I carried her at my back to work. People do laugh at me, but I didn’t care.

‘hmm’, I could remember the day I lost my job, at that time, your mother was very sick, she was 5yrs old then, she suffered from a heart

disease. I cried a lot, I howled and tangled, it was a very sad period. Tirelessly, I ranged from household to household and office

appliances to seek for help, but no one helped, I was so helpless, I didn’t even know what to do next. I went to the hospital to check on

my daughter but her condition got worst. The doctor told me to bring the sum of 2.5 million naira in 72 hours time if I still cherished my

daughter’s live. This prompted me to go out there to hustle, People who said ‘loneliness is a disease’ were right. I was so lonely and

helpless, anxiety was all over me. I went from place to place, I helped people to carry their luggage and doing other jobs, I worked day

and night.

It was just a day left, and all the money with me was not up to the quarter of the money needed. I was in tears; I rushed out to see if I

would get some help. ‘hmmm’ as I ran from street to street, a beautiful woman called for my assistance and I assisted her with her

luggage. We got to her house, and she told me to wait outside; she went in and never came out. I was carried away by the beauty of

the house. I checked the time in my old wrist watch, it was then I realized that I had spent 30 minutes outside. I was so worried; I

dropped the luggage and went through the gate. It amazed me that as big as the house was, no one answered my knock. I rushed

outside to check on the luggage, I was confused. Suspiciously, something in me whispered, and pushed me to open the luggage which I

did. As I opened the first luggage, I saw pieces of papers, I opened the second luggage, I saw wears and a letter, but when I opened the

last luggage, I couldn’t believe what I saw, I saw huge amount of money that I had never seen all my life. Moreover, I decided to open

the letter if I would find some vital information. The content of the letter said:

It's so good to be back home. Haloo poetaster, let's keep up from where we stop.

JigsawKillah:
Immune to the pains of heartbreak; I prided myself
Weed would take it all away, I lied to myself
My emotions drown me in waves, I'm crying for help
I died and was reborn: a psycho you'd create

Went on a heartbreaking spree, never felt remorse
Till it became more of an habit, then I fell in love
Couldn't tell her how I feel, fear I'd treat her worse
I am an emotionless robot, a psycho you'd made

Early morning sex, that's a nice day
Heavy drugs we wrecks, sticking my vein
Then we clubbing next, every Friday
Look at how I become, the psycho you'd craved

Never been this angry in ages, I sought out to rob
Hanging with the meanest faces, so I could feel among
Wasted and making people wasted, I don't feel it's wrong
As I wear this balaclava, I hope the psycho would fade


I picture the one I love, I am unworthy of her
I stay frowning like a job; her strength is her smile
I'm a destructive meteor; she radiates as a star
If you ever read this, I'm a psycho you'd changed






©Jigs

This is awesome Bro