A small creature with feathers
Lived in a little house
Lived in its little nest
Thought the earth was small and round
Made with a gifted voice
And had a good tone of voice
Which on the tree
She sang into my ears
The birds are wonderfully created
With the cloth of many colours
And their funnel pointed mouths
The birds are wonderfully created
And lovely to think about.
(C) Jumoke O. Fagbayi*
ARTWORK- Sheila Brown (Art by the Sea)
*She is a student with Hollab College, Ilorin, Nigeria who reads and writes at her leisure time
His death came unannounced,
As he laid on his back.
The soil on the ground bounced,
As he laid there in the park.
How can he be compared to a sunflower,
When the sun is nowhere near his beauty?
His eyes are so pretty,
That sometimes I think he should take cover.
The land is quiet
Everywhere is still
People are hiding
Behind their closed doors & windows
Eyes half closed, half opened
Afraid to come out
All because of war and conflict
The land is silent in an unusual way
Birds hooting fearfully on the tree
All afraid to fly about
All because of war and conflict
Hunters are sleeping
Behind closed doors
All afraid to embark
On their hunting expedition
All afraid to shoot their guns
All because of war and conflict
The land is quiet
People are praying
For day to break
They believe all will be well
For tomorrow is another day
And they hope they will not be in conflict forever
(C) Aishat O. Yusuf*
ARTWORK- Henry Moore (Pinterest)
*She is a student of Hollab College, Ilorin, Nigeria, who enjoys reading and writing.
Oh welcome to our midst.
A cry of a new born baby,
Welcomed by old hand,
Out of pain to a joyful day.
Growing to know more of the hazardous world,
Knowing good and bad,
Some are taught and others, not.
The new human becoming who we look unto,
Out of a poor house willing to be rich,
The rich may torment.
Self interest is a virus that can kill,
But other's interest brings cure.
Finishing school, searching for job,
Now the job is mine.
Getting married, and bearing children,
Now, i'm a man on my own.
Growing older is a must,
At the age of 60,
One must be ready
For the time may come
By Grace, I was spared,
70, 80, 90, 100, the time has not come.
When will I go back?
At last, I spend half of 40 years more
And go to a lovely home of peace and joy.
The time has come.
(C) Stephen D. D. Samuel*
ARTWORK - Deviantarts (Pinterest)
*He is a student of Hollab College, Ilorin, Nigeria.
