That Candle In Your Soul.

You hover in the shadow
Of your uncertainties,
A portrait of perfection
Smeared in pain;
No flicker igniting within

A candle lives,
Lives in every soul.
Delicate yet ravenous,
Incandescently burning,
Traveling through obscurity
Erupting into the beauty
Of the galaxy.

That candle in your soul.

Let’s ignite lives
With addictive hope;
Giving life to an ordinary page
Hope to an ordinary face.

Let it rage,
Set the world ablaze
That candle in your soul
Let it burn.



I believe in ovaries; childbirth,
The war that births someone that never was.

I believe in movements, baby steps,
The beginning of an unstoppable giant thud.

I believe in a bare field, the hope of a plantation.

I believe in fire, blazing,priming,separating and strengthening;
The beauty of glass,
The mystery of gold.

I believe in the rain that swallows famine
And the seeds that sprouts from unlikely places.

I believe in the deserts spring; the travelers strength
The darkest of nights,
They usher in the brightest of days.

I believe in the early birds; slumber less, take charge,
Wake the waves, take the sail.

I believe in light for those in depressions pit,
Life for those in diverse battlefields.

I believe in the blessedness of water on a hot sunny day,

I believe in the back bone of creativity; the hands that molds clay into man.

I believe in an inexhaustible array of new beginnings.


Earth: My Favorite Author.

My best authors are those who write in circles.
Where Goodbyes are Hellos
And there’s never an end to the beginning.

As Deserts whisper with tales of seas they once held,
I see mountains;
A one time proclaimed lava
Boasting of precious days.

It is then I declare,
For real this time,
The Earth is my favorite Author.

(In commemoration of The World Geologist Day)


Intelligent People Wear Glasses.

I have always wanted glasses for as long as I can remember.
Glasses are for the brilliant, I would say.

I saw people with glasses as people who were in touch with some form of divine intelligence and I wanted that.
The thing is, my eyes are small, if you’ve ever seen me reading you would think they were closed and I was struggling to keep them open.
So I used that as a leverage to ask for glasses.

I would pretend I’m unable to see, make tears roll down my eyes claiming they teared up on their own.
So my mum took me to an Opthalmologist.

Eye chart Illustration by Dreamstime.

You know that thing with ABC on the wall that the Doctor would tell you to read right?
Yep, that.
Guys when he points at F I would say W,
when I see P I would say U,
I was desperate! I needed glasses guys!
The Doctor would nod and keep pointing.

I went twice, I got none.

I remember going for 8mile (Hosted by YWAP) two years ago. There I saw Ghana must gooooosssssss filled to the brim with glasses, I knew my jubilee was here.
To cap it up I was a Doctor at 8mile, so you get!!! (Read my Doctor gist here Let’s Do 8thMile Again).

I remember in secondary school I bought a glass from an Aboki at Terminus,
I pretended for a whole term that it was medicated.

Guys,I couldn’t even see through it.

Today as I type this, I am still glassless, Nevertheless I breathe.


Dear Old Hope

I was safe in the embrace of fear I thought,
As pines pricked and slimy branches choked
Spilling blood for remission,
Distorted salvation!

In the mist of illusion, a known pain is better than an unknown.

But you see Hope;
The match of faith just wouldn’t stay still,
With one yea, it lits!
Engulfed in a blaze was their end.

As the mist parts, I see light, my light!
How could I have not known!
In the embrace of fear I was nestled,
But Dear old Hope;
The match of faith showed me the way.


(Inspired by Ted and Rachelle Dekker’s book, The girl behind the red rope)

Gossip’s Lantern.

Flip! Flop!!
Grandma’s rhythm,
An angry doorbell screaming;
Callers of patience running scarce.
Aunt Freda;
Gossip’s lantern,
Everything is hers to chew.
She steps in with a bag full of news,
Are they true?
Can you prove?
Try if you may, to a naught would be your end,
The best place to be
Is out of her view,
But like always
She seeks,
Digging out one or two.


Finding Life’s Map

Photo by ARoadMoreBalanced

I stepped in, showered and tried to get some sleep. It was barely 3:42pm but I had had a long and stressful day going from one site to another under this hot Kaduna sun trying to map some wells, get samples and coordinates, I felt spent and just wanted some rest. Somehow for some reasons sleep deemed me unfit to host its presence, my overactive mind took the wheels and I knew it was futile to keep trying so I opted for a stroll.

Aimless strolls always have a way of resetting me.

The sun was down now and the northern chill had started to slip in, I was glad I took my mum’s sweater before stepping out but I regretted not taking a hood because at the rate at which the sharp Kaduna breeze kept whispering into my ears, I would be lucky to still have ears at the end of the stroll. I made a conscious effort to mark the land as I went along so it would be easy to find my way back.

With my mind still on overdrive and questions like “so now what?” kept rearing its head, you see, I was done with school and my plan A for my life wasn’t working and plan B sounded almost impossible, I was torn between countless decisions /choices to make at a time, I felt drained.
As I took a corner down an unpaved street I saw two kids playing bare butt in the sand with little or no worries in the world, I envied them, if they only knew how much I wish I was them right now. I took another turn and from a recently plastered house I heard a Yoruba song that I love so much “Alagbara bi ara olorun shiloh…eda Judah” talking about the Lion of the tribe of Judah and it made me smile, I sang along as I passed the house, some steps away I checked my watch and had a second thought, I went back to the front of the house and of course they had a Winners aka Living Faith poster on the front door, I climbed the stairs to the door left slightly ajar, stepped in and asked no one in particular “please is this a Winners home cell?” With the chorused “YES” and the smile on their faces somehow I knew I would be okay and everything would turn out fine.

“I wrote this in Kaduna last year and never got to post it. Plan B is working, would write about that when I can.❤”


Hope Lives Here.

Photo by Crid

Some growth we barely see
But they be.
Roots carving through rocks
Born from liquid strength,
An eruption to an end
But what end?
An end is a start if I’m asked.
Does Earth leave void?
A finish without a beginning?
Or a beginning without a finish with a new beginning?

Tell me!

This hope we speak of,
Aren’t they ashes from lava that the mighty oak springs?
Aren’t they withered leaves from whose veins the palm tree raises its head?

You see this hope,
This hope lives here
We touch it from within us,
And as seasons change,
Even the withered breathe the breath of life.

The Earth turns,
It turns nevertheless.
As you wait the turn, put your back to it,
Till and prune,
To understand the times is key.
A wise man once asked,
Can dry bones live to become and be?
To a yes! they can be.
Let doubt flee,
It is love that captures
And makes us free.

So breathe!

Even the withered breathe as seasons change.



Parable! Parable!
Sow on fertile it says,
But Desert I see.
Can I say more?
Can I harvest here?

Quick sand! Quick sand!
Dynamite?Who cares!
I do sometimes no pretence,
But listen child, even in an arid Desert
Oasis exist.




“I always search for the Hope in seemingly Hopeless situations however hard,
Often times i find it,
More times than not.”




Silence kills?
Kills the negative I would say.
Flip the rug and let them in,
Intense as it may be.
Breathe in;Leave it
You would live after it
I promise.

Why does West sway
When North breathes East I asked
Pressure I would say,
We connect by a thread.
So, keep in check the itch
You would be glad you did.
Believe me.



This poem is about shutting up.

Sometimes it’s okay to shut up and let wisdom guide you.

I used the analogy of the north easterly wind and how It affects the west because of the pressure it generates when it goes clock wise(high) or counter-clock wise(low).

Everyone and everything is connected.
So think of the consequences of your words before you say them.
Be guided.”

The Fourth in the Fire.

You are about me
Like vast vegetation surrounds a mountain,
Your love envelopes me like clouds envelopes Karshi hills.
I am engulfed but not scorched,
With barefoot I draw near.
I am diving in,
At the end is where it starts,
From death was where life sprang,
I perish? I perish.
But like always
You send the fourth in;
You are the fourth,
The fourth in the fire.


(Karshi is a district in Abuja with amazing sceneries )

To Father.

When life’s pendulum lingers near
With it’s churning waves rattling my sail,
It’s thorn and edges
Scaring my view,
When my compass fail
And I lose sight of the shore.
Show me thy star,
Be my guide.

When my sun loses heat
And photosynthesis deems me unfit,
When my eyes grow dim
And I lose sight of my dreams,
When my steps fail me
And my fear becomes king.
Put my feet in the Jordan
Propel me with thy wind.

When I lose my ropes
And my sanity flees,
When expectations mock me
And I lose my place,
When my world becomes crazy.
Be my rehab in view
Help me know you to be true.

When the love I cooked comes undone,
And its taste sprouts bile from my very form,
When my fear truncates my strength
And from the cup of shame I drink,
When my ruder betrays me
And in the sea of doubt I drown.
Show me thy light,
Show me hope.

Dear Father,
Be my guide.


Inspired by John Keats’ Poem (To Hope)