love

How do you say, ‘I love you?’ in your language?

Okay, this is me rambling this morning.

I got on my laptop and came here, to my blog. To be honest, I don’t have anything in mind. I’m sure it will come to me sha.

While we wait, we are out of our dorms cause of COVID disinfectant. Like we used to say, our dorms are being ‘fogged’. On my left, some students are playing a card game. Two are in front of me pressing their phones. Behind me one is eating. It’s actually a very relaxed atmosphere – good for rambling.

Okay! Suddenly I remember what happened yesterday. You wanna hear, yeah?

So, I was cooking in the kitchen when another guy, who was cooking, asked me a question, out of the blues.

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A STENCH IN HIS GOLDEN NOSTRILS (Abimbola Duduyegbe)

See what she has turned out to be;
A stench in his golden nostrils
Her beauty and amazing personality;
Has become an eyesore to him

At first, his thoughts wandered around HER
The thoughts of HER love always fill his heart
He knew it was hard to do his biddings,
Nevertheless, his feelings won’t let him be.

Morning after morning, he grew lean
Day after day, he fell more sick
His heart longing for HER love
His body craving for HER touch

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LETTER TO MY SON

The day love would find me
In the eyes of my son
Is the day I would shame milk
Relinquishing it to you, my Sun.

Silence will not be golden the day you come
Everyone will need you to cry!
Oh my baby! Sing the song of tears
Tell us the stories of foetal fears
That you had growing within years!

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a beautiful lady dancing...talking...

THAT ONE TIME WE TALKED

Sometimes I want to touch the beat of the drum
And vouch for the thief of my form
Those are time I want to be free of insecurities like thorns
But she always remind me where I am from

Because when love found me
I was deep in fat like meat
That was when she told me I was gonna be minced.

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THE ONE MY HEART WON…

East and west, took me years to find a nest;
My bitter heart rode like a stallion
The hurt inflicted by mermaids
Till I found you, my yolk.

Men who love in the waist of wanton women
They say waste away on their thighs
But for you, what is there not to want?
I want to waste away as perfume
In the breathe of your waiting arms

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