Category Archives: Pleasures of Poetry



Come, gently, come closer,

Face me squarely and be my muse.

My love for you is no longer news

Yea, it is the music of love-

That has prompted me here 

With my palette and gear.

I bury my brush in my palette, softly

And swing it to the canvas, swiftly 

And succinctly, I make beautiful strokes 

Impressing you, raising your hopes-

That the final work will astonish you 

Like a hoax.
But nay, I art a fraud,

Never having consulted art’s drawing board.

The price of apprenticeship, I can’t even afford

Cloaking these in lies, you took my word 

That I was a lord 

Lording it over this sacred art

Immortalizing nobles, ladies and dukes

Marking trifles that resemble their looks.
Nay still, I shall not undeceive you 

Rather, stay still and keep that smile;

Feel at home- my studio, your castle

Have faith as my strokes pile.

Until you tangle me in truth’s lasso,

I remain your Pablo Picasso.

Written by Clinton Durueke


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A poetic exposition on grace.

Could this be science? 

Unmerited favour,

Unfathomable distinctions,

Could it be explained with a thermometer

Or perhaps a barometer? 

Could it be measurable?

God’s immense wealth,

Out of his store house,

He gives,

Abundance that you can’t explain,

Could it be weighed?

Could it be tested? 

Such kindness unwarranted,

Not caring if you’re tainted,

He loves you,


Could it be defined? 

Some call it divine arrangement,

Others qualify it accordingly,

I call it Grace,

Unexplainable, unweighable, indefinable.



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At that moment,I don’t care if you’re a friend,

An enemy or just in my way.

At that point,

Your name doesn’t matter,

Your job doesn’t either.
It usually begins softly,

Some teasing and name calling,

Maybe if it’s a great day,

Some accusations will flow.

If not, 

It continues.
I’ll say something wrong,

And you’ll say something worse,

It flows,

The banter,

Up until the point when we can never go back.
I’ll see red and talk smut,

You’ll egg me on and,

I’ll be charmed,

The name calling and the jest,

Secrets outed and dirty laundry,

Stripped down to the last.
Like a moth to flames,

I’ll be enchanted,

I’ll never let it go.

Not until the fire consumes me.
My name is Vera and I’m an angry person

Titilope Adedokun


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You hear the beating
The drumming
The humming
The force at which it bangs
The gravity at which it loses endurance
The untamed sound gets deeper and go deeper
It doesn’t die
Die please die
It just won’t die
You’re taking so long
And beating just too fast
You are scared you’ll explode
The sound is mixed..sweet pain..painful melody
Alas! Alas!
You wake up one day
The drum bows its potency
The sound becomes slower and lower
The drumming is no more
The humming is buried so soon
Persistence where at thou?
Endurance thou has expired?
The pondering is no more

             Yoma Eshemitan


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Blood on my pillow, I guess I fought in my dreams. Blood on my pillow, Nothing is what it seems.

Was I murdered in my sleep? Have I morphed into a ghost? Did the bullet sink deep, To send me to the Lord of hosts?

Reality is a phantasm Life is an apparition The truth becomes sarcasm And my enemies turn to derision

Blood on my pillow, Has my life come to an end? Liquid spills off the edge- Will another chance, my Creator lend?

My heart burns with regret As I gaze at my mortal host Russian Roulette and a bet Last night, my enemies had a toast

Blood on my pillow, I guess I fought in my dreams Irony of existence- Nothing is what it seems.

Written By Clinton Durueke


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Break every ground

Loosen all shackles

Make every sound

Cause beautiful sparkles

And I

Lift souls

End cries


Make high

But I

Can make you shiver

Can tear you up

Can eat up livers

Can make hearts stop

Because I

Am the known devil

The cause of sin

The barricade into heaven

Will never let you in

So I

Give you a chance to run

An option to stay

A choice to burn

A chance to seize the day

Before I

Make my will done

Leave you with no choice

Make myself your god

Make you wallow in the gallows of sorrowful noise

Written By Ayomide Alajogun


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A door without a knob
Corn without a cobb
Flag without a pole
Cereal without a bowl.

Eagle without a wing
A castle without a king
Fire without a spark
Dog without a bark.

A basket without a hoop
A chicken without a coop
A rainbow without colour
An athlete without vigour.

A pen without ink
A skate without a rink
A clock without a hand
A guitar without a band.

Santa without a sleigh
A horse without a neigh
An alley without gangsters
A classroom without pranksters.
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