Pour,

Pour in,

into the cone-shaped-shell of periwinkle

the bloody souvenir with a labyrinth of wrinkle

that blinds the eyes, just in a twinkle

Periwinkle, remain afloat in the deep sea

till bloody-souvenir eye must not see

is totally cleansed by the tide of the sea

Memory, be buried in the heaps of history

so sleep will celebrate its difficult victory

over the stubborn lid of the eye

hunted by the lugubrious dim-pictures

of the rotten years of the vultures

the monthly merciless smashing of foetus

in their warming nest with burning impetus

synonymous with exuberance of the youth

Oh! the innocent-silent cries of babies

whose warming – nest overnight becomes abattoir & cemetery

Yesterday, hurry, flew with scary-stock inventory

with scar issues; the tale-tall of the

colossal sacks of bones crushed in the abattoir

and little tombs dunged by the armature

grave-diggers, by the cathedral of the

walls of the delicate and intricate nest

Today, is come with prayer beads

for religious rituals, to free the nest

battling in the oceanic-pool of guilt

Today, pray earnestly from dusk to dawn

that sins of reckless youth and filth

should not be visited on you, to rob

your serene heart its peaceful rhythmic throb

Yesterday, dive into the deep sea

come not back ever to see

your kith and kin – today and tomorrow

goodbye – Yesterday, with all the rut of the youth

goodbye, for Today is here for rejuvenation

and Tomorrow for posterity, goodbye, goodbye,

A TOY FOR JOY

I do not know where you are coming from, or the distance you have covered to get to where you are right now. 50 years still counting, has been my journey which commenced in a little village in Nigeria, several miles away. The road is rough and tough, I crossed several seas, passed many valleys, climbed many hills or mountains to get here. Sometimes, I came face to face with scary situations that made my heart leaped into my mouth, jaw dropped, bones rankled, head bowed down, eyes pooped out and tears dropped like a spring.

Should all these and even more stop my journey in the middle of nowhere? Should I stop when I still have some distance yet uncovered to get to my desired destination? No!. Tough and rough as this journey may be, yet it is not without thought -provoking and self- awakening moments. This journey opened my scared eyes to behold the raw or unadulterated definition of courage whenever my strength diminished. It made me realize that courage is not the absence of fear but the presence of fear at a close range with one standing face to face, shoulder to shoulder and eyeball to eyeball till fear withdraws to give one the rite of passage to one’s desired destination to take delivery of one's desired goal or expected outcome. Courage is a faceoff with fear and access denied it into one's heart to impute doubts on one's attainment of one's desired goals or expected outcome.

I came to the conviction that if the taunting and jeering, I faced in a 13 years marriage without a biological child could not stop me, then the piercing claws of widowhood violence cannot also stop me. Yes, it is a fact that its piercing claws coloured my face with Labyrinth of wrinkles, but it also gave me a unique identity that most people always turned their heads to behold. It is eye-catching that many people could easily tell that each line of the wrinkle served as an alphabet to write the phrase “intense pressure” on my face. Yes, part of the pressure was because I lost my husband in Dec 2004 and my annual contract work with an organisation expired in January 2005, when I had not gotten another contract. This was the genesis of these lines drawn by the pull and push of the basic needs unmet. It was propelled by the inner alarms of not knowing whom to turn for help. The poor access to limited social security, dwindling family, and extended family safety nets reinforced this. In this state, I yearned for relief and it came for a while, through a 2 years contract work I got in January 2006 to Dec 2008. I was able to clear my rents, feed, and fix other challenges.

When this contract ended, while searching and waiting for another contract, I quickly painted my personal car into taxi colour and began to drive it for commercial. My journey so far is packed with struggles to overcome several challenges which got to a nerve breaking point. At this point, I realized that the challenge that mounts pressure on one unavoidable set great heat upon one's hidden dormant talent or gift till it comes alive actively, and openly taking one out of pressure to pleasure ride in the victory. Under pressure, my writing skills were deployed to this tall huge heap filled with piles of failures, wasted years, and efforts. Gradually, this tall huge heap of pressure, now a pleasure, metamorphosed into a treasure.

Indeed, one's rotten smelling past is good manure when buried in the ground. It fertilizes one's life where it is planted to blossom like the beautiful sweet smelling flowers in the spring. Its unique fragrance transcends all borders or barriers. This tall huge heap fertilizes my creative imaginations, sharpens my wits and writing skills as well as boosts my courage. It gave me the daring courage to take a leap from writing only two books during my thirteen years of marriage with my late husband to writing ten books after his death, although all are still awaiting publication. Moreover, it gave me the daring courage to learn and keep learning how to write a pitch and to send 5 each day, 35 each week and 140 each month internationally to editors or publishers, to share some piece derived from the tall huge heap. Beside these, it gave me the daring courage to keep writing 3 short stories per week, and 12 per month. In addition to these, it gave me the daring courage to search for international publications as well as writing competitions that pay for such stories. This was how I put my pen through my pain, made pain marry pleasure and they gave birth to treasure. It is an intriguing union I called the “Pep- Knot” Currently, I am widowed but married to my books, with no biological child but have several brainchildren. Alas!, the nuptial tie between my pain and pleasure was therapeutic to me and fellow widows that listened to my story. I wish to extend this experience to a wider audience, through this piece. I am not stopping this journey here, because I still have several miles to cover to get to my desired destination. However, each day, I am filled with joy as I catch the glimpse of my desired destination. Standing tall at this vantage point, I could tell that the master key to ending the pressure of every challenge in life is Joy. It opens up the pressure to let out hot steam with bubbles that floats and evaporates. It opens up treasure within to be in pursuit of the bubbles to catch and break, in open play as a toy for its joy. The tall huge heap of pressure mounted on me is what I mounted to take a quantum leap. I mount on it to pick different pieces that make up the heap as a resource material.

A Suprise Pack

‘’ Well you look prettier and younger in life than the picture at the back cover of your book. The Chairman of the selection committee observed.

’'Oh really?'', I responded. He stammered visibly disconcerted with my innocuous question, scratching his head. He cast a stolen glance at my long fixed painted nails. Thick cloud began to gather on his face, covered with a labyrinth of wrinkles. Doubt was written boldly on his face. I guessed he could not come to terms with the issue of the outflow of original brilliant poetic verses from these dent fingers fixed with long nails and neatly painted with Peach colour nail polish.

I was becoming upset, with his scrutiny look which swept through my succulent full lips adorned with unique turquoise colour lipstick. Then his eyes rolled over to my smooth spotless girlish chocolate colour complexion baby face decked with perfect finish foundation face powder. Quickly, it moved to my head bejeweled with fixed shiny brownish weave-on, afro hair. In a split of a second, his scrutiny eyes moved from my head to the trunk of my body dressed in a butter coloured skirt suit. I presumed that he would not pick holes with that since he also was in a suite.

However, from the look on his face, as his scrutiny eyes rolled over to my slim, smooth, spotless long legs, it appeared that he was not comfortable with the brevity of my skirt, which stopped at my kneel area. His presumptuous look seemed to condemn the fact that my skirt perhaps offered onlookers with insight into the full sexual details. I took a deep breath praying that this would not turn into another embarrassing situation for me in this event. Gradually, a burning rage started to wobble inside me. ‘’Why should I permit anyone to judge my outwards appearance as if I have no dept inside?’’,

’Why should I ----‘’ the flow of my thought was interrupted by the clearing of the throat by the chairman of the selection committee.

He took me to the centre of the stage and formally introduced me to the audience. He noted that I was a beautiful reminder of the wisdom in the adage that said one should not judge a book by its cover. He handed over to me the iconic symbol for the winner of the award this year. Also, a written cheque of ten thousand dollars was handed over to me amidst the cheers and excitement of the surprised audience. I was given some brief minutes to respond.