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It Looks Like October

It looks like October in Cleveland again,
with the contrast of the deep grey sky
and the way the sun breaks through it in the west
in what's come to be known as late evening,
around here.

And I don't know what this autumn
brings around here.
I'm not as romantic about things these days
and I I'm not sure who to blame.
So I'll fall back to my old standby
and blame myself
for being in this beautiful mess
with no concept of how to appreciate it
and give woe to the sins of cynicism.

Fan-shaped Child Of Africa (October Contest)

Many African children are fan-shaped,
little wonder why the sage would say,
“Mangoes don’t fall far from the tree.”

But most times we assume more use
of ourselves, make essence of our shape
and take away the heat of life
from our brothers’ faces.

Nigeria is one of such children,
a mother who pushed me out
from her womb and placed me upon
a sturdy bed called Edo.

I would learn in time
that the reason why we’re not all fans
lies in the choice we say “Oma” or “E wo” to.


The cycle of life.
Every experience helps us grow.
Every growth helps us experience.
The circle of Life.

Scary days.

On days you see your moon shinning in the day; days you feel like giving up.
Days the best of your comfort shoulders isn't there to rest on.
Days you needed to pour the river of bitterness ; tasting like a sour wine, chocking the whole of you.
Days drenched with acidic rain and your body look as though it never gonna heal.
Days humans comes with their switching nature, don't blame them they are just too fickle.
Rather take a long walk to the countryside,
Inhale air clearer than the blue sky over the mountains,


*Soul of a Soldier*
Do you hear my calls?
Soul of a soldier only guns.
Sound is the rhythm.
Thousands of dead bodies on the street is the party.
War is the dinner and
Victory is our meal.
Eyes have seen much.
Massacres, genocide,
bones and weak skeletons sounding in my heart.
My mind becomes beast.
I'm just human.
Why do I live for war?
Or sign in for death?
But my humble soul is worth it.
Written by: Thinkbig Usman
Designer: Michael Agboola

Dream Dad

I had a father! Yes, but long ago,
Before the bitter breeze began to blow.
He was a god, a Titan, so it seemed,
But that may be a dream that once I dreamed.

This father, who this son did once adore
Was born with old Achilles’ fatal flaw:
His heart, it was a bubble ‘bout to burst;
This mining Adonais, he was cursed!

This father, he was psychic, so it seemed,
But as I said before, I may have dreamed.
For he’d not seen the day of his demise;
It dawned and took this prophet by surprise!


When you see the moon
Come and take me by my hand
Walk us on the moonlit beach
Then sit us on the sand

Put your arms around me
And ask me what I see
I’ll say, the moon and its reflection
In the waves, upon the sea

You will tell me, I’m your moon
And so, forever will you be
My reflection in your heart
For what you mean to me

I will say, that’s why I love you
You make me glow at night
You will say, that’s why you love me
I am, the reflection from your light


Ad hoc Adherence:

In response to the Weirdelf
Challenge to compose
A poem outside the genre usual
An attempt not off the shelf
But my original prose
Submitted for your perusal.

Who is the arbiter of poetry?
Is it freeform or uniformity?
Does it require precise geometry
To convey a sense of serenity?
Freewheeling or on circuitry
Poetry is artistic sovereignty..

All Hallow's Eve...

For ghouls and ghosties all alike
All Hallows Eve, a favorite night
You should see them out on the streets
Oh man, they give you such a fright

There's Kylee and Kote all dressed up
A killer-chicken and psycho- bunny
They want to scare the pants off from you
Don't laugh too loud, but it's kinda funny

Alyssa is a unicorn
Spencer Pixachu lightning-head
Baby Chance is Elmo laughing
He's so cute when dressed in red

I am death

Your world hates me
The rich despite me
The poor respect me
The youth plays with me
Elders claim to be ready for me

When I have invited the world cries
They all start to care
The sweet words they never told you rise
Those who rejected you want another chance
Those who cursed you speak you good

Your family members lose touch
Fearing they can't do much
Reminisces over a sad lunch
Promises losing their plot


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