₦airaland Forum

By this time, the the months had triumphantly galumphed to the month of October. October been the sopposed period when NYSC portal would be open for 2016 Batch B registration. Excitement was me personified and in one of those happy days, i took to my poetry book and declared

[center]The chills
The trills
And all its accompanying traits.
Oh! How i hope
To feel the zeal
That i have felt
Since i was Ten
That grace,
Amazing grace.
To serve my fatherland
With my seven on seven.
Azuwaya!!
To the forthcoming Corpersion.[/center]

Lets derail a little. When i was in primary two or four, cant really place it now, while returning from school with my fellow classmates one day, i caught sight of a dark, thick skinned(but no fat), curly-haired heighted female at the other end of the road. She exuded a certain kind of aura that i couldn't comprehend yet she looked rather unusual. Boots, white polo, army green khaki trousers and a small bag that cut across one side of her shoulder, through her breast and rested tentatively on the otherside of her hip. She was laughing and holding hands and talking as swagger along amidst two blokes that dressed just like her. Till today, i do not know why i remember her so vividly and she eill never know she was extremely admired that day. As she and her gang trudged further, i noticed that behind her Polo was written NYSC and from that day onward i had always wished to be a corper. And now i could sense this day drawing ever closer.

Sometime later, in the most recent past, when i relayed my crushing experience to a friend who asked me to describe this Unidentified Corper Person, what he said to me was "babe, all you've just done is describe your physique. Maybe God did some sort of time-machine thingy so you'll see what you'll look like in tge future with ur khaki.
* * * * * * * *

Among my favourite things, i love listening to Radio. I am yet to get a word for a person who totally totally loves listening to radio. Radio stations i admired varied from cool music radio stations to talk and news stations. At a time i had a schedule to know when one show was ongoing and when the other was to end.

So in one of those evenings, while listening to a talk show on Nigeria Info, i got a little pissed. The show was centered around Nigeria's famous Banky W and his new song which was trending at the time. The essence of the song was to pass a message to the Nigerian public that he(Banky) should not be coerced in to marriage by his fans on Social Media as they would not be there to save the marriage when it reached crisis. As a matter of fact, he was saying marriage should not be imposed on Single Mature Men.

The show got a bit heated when the phone lines were opened and callers began to air their veiw on the matter. Majority of the callers (whom i presume to be above thirty) were on Banky W's side and that was what got me even. And so i decided to peom on the matter but from my own perspective.

Much later, i came to realise that the song title of Mr Banky's hit is Gidi love(how nice).


[center]It takes two to tango
On a thread that is narrow.
And even when they be best by arrows,
They shall conquer their sorrows.
Be it in a deep hollow
Or just a road in a row,
Their wars shall not be known.

But whence a man grown,
And a woman blown
Choose not to head for the unknown
Hence, relapse so and merry in the known
For which even their poor hearts bleeds for more;
Their days, one in many is filled with bore.
And though they let their egos soar
Above nature's loving roar for care
Alas!
It is indeed that along with then they bear
The burden of loneliness so near.

But you there, beware
That he when at sixty eight and a year
Will he beget a maiden so dear
And for him shall she bear a son or maybe a pair.
And then will he get buried then next year
Because of how he had ageed.
And there will he leave behind a widow and an orphan so tender.

So why merry for so long in the known?
When i know
It takes two to tango in the unknown?[/center]

I would appreciate readers very much

In one of those days, while flipping through some old exercise books of mine, i came across this
This is a short story
Not found in any history
Very plain
But mixed with pain.
About a certain bloke
And a shy brunette
That met alomg a block... To be continued!!!

This was something i had done many years back when i was in Ss1 as the book were i found this was in my SS1 Literature Notebook. I remember not been able to continue it because i had nothing in mind back then. But presently, as i looked at this write up, i was certain i felt tinglings in my innards and so i went over, picked up my poetry-assigned exercise book and as wondered, the words simply danced before my eyes bringing about this
This is a short story
Not found in any history
Very plain.
But mixed with pain
About a certain bloke
And a shy brunette
Who met along a block.
Love they found as they connect
Buh knew not what would come next.
For in between fear and dread and anxiety,
In his loins, she found genuine prosperity.
And on her breast
He would lay his head to rest.
Peace indeed!
Or just a chill before the war
For indeed there loomed war.
Not by them
But on them.
From force forced upon them;
Like the land, the mother and the tribe.
So much so their love could not stive.
For the land hated the son
'Cus the mother knew the law...
That their love was not bound by tribe.
A war indeed!
And so this story ends
Just where love was 'bout to begin.
'Cus forces external and beyond.
But for a certainty they knew
That of all uncertainties,
Love exists.
And they once had it in their arms.
This was it and i was amased as the word flowed in just one piece. This newness seemed more like a reconciliation with the buried past and with all this sudden smoothness i had attained i was determined not to back out. Atleast not anymore.

I couldn't believe it. A writing kaput? From me? It seemed so funny. I mean in my head i thought i was good at this. And now all that was happening as i glared into the blank space was practically nothing.

"I wont let this stop me" i murmured and i was determined not to sulk over this condition. So, i sealed up the books again and kept the bag-like safe in my trolley where i would have easy accessibility and left the writing thing until another convenient time. That convenient time came along soon and i went back to dearly dearly beloved bag-like safe. Things had to be better today. But no, things didn't get better and neither did it get better for d next couple of weeks as all that happened where me always leaving behing an empty page soiled with splotches of ink. This was indeed a writer's block(as i had later come to realise) but more was involved. Karma, if there is a thing like that, was playing on my imagination for having dumbed the creative spirit during the past fews years.

Thank goodness though, that at times like these, i had people to turn to. My mom. I told her everything from tge forgone years to the reawakened desire and ofcourse to present hitch and my mom was as optimistic as ever. ,"you don't having to worry too much. All you need do is free up your nerves and do some writing. Ure consumed with so much doubt" she assured more jokingly than serioisly but i knew she meant those words.

Later that night, i had a conversation with LovePoet online, and related to him my current dilemma and as always, LovePoet was as supportive as he could be, assuring me that this was just a 'phase' that would soon pass. Few mornings later, i picked this new exercise book which i tamed *poetry book* and without thinking these were the words i scribbled in
[center]After so long these years
Its obvious indeed
That i have lost the flare.
That desire that had burned in the air.
Now i can't figures out the words
As they seemed to have gone on vacation.[/center]
That was all i did but i didnt just close the book or retire sluggishly. Instead, i left it open and shoved it a distance away and kept staring at it like a nursing mother starring at her baby she just strangled. Hours later, i cant tell how many, after starring motionless at five-line gibberish i had made up, i went back to the exercise book to express anger

[center]I can't.
Maybe because its so long
Maybe because i choose to let go.
A lost tomorrow
To a numero Uno.
Try finding the lost yesterdays
When you choose to bury it in yesteryears.
I only hope that in time,
The rhythms shall rhyme
And ease this growing roar
That is now soar
Just like cancer[/center]


**********intermission****************

Am in. Lemme just goan start frm d beginning

oludare007:
how is writing 'unsexy'?

no sex bites hence poses as boring to the public eye

Good one

Shabib:
switup, nice one. i'm still hoping i'll read that you've published one novel in your write-up.

abeg continue

for u, i write. Thanx for following. I just realised this is a bit too "unsexy" for many. But its my thing, so ill write.