Dear Diary: Birthday Party

/ 09:45
Dear diary,

A man’s source of joy is not in the things that he has, rather in the people around him- people who show him love wholeheartedly. Many things tried to kill my week but No! it was filled with so much joy after all.
Dear diary,

A man’s source of joy is not in the things that he has, rather in the people around him- people who show him love wholeheartedly. Many things tried to kill my week but No! it was filled with so much joy after all.
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Mama Moshuud who was already at the front of the house turned, facing the house and began to ring the bell vigorously. After which she shouted hallelujah seven times and that was the end. Her praying session had ended.  Mama Esther called out Emeka’s name “do make you sweep the compound” and under her breath, she said “this mad woman don find wetin dey pursue am”.
Early morning drama
The bell rang for the second time, louder than the first but nothing compared to the woman’s voice accompanying each ring, shouting on the top of her voice “emi mimo o”. Olabisi turned again, this time, she covered her head with the pillow, hoping that the sound of the bell would decrease but it didn’t. After several attempts, she hissed and got up murmuring about people who wouldn’t find peace because they didn’t give her peace.
Embers is a poem that captures a lovers laments.
Dear diary,

This week took a totally unexpected turn. If not for Nancy’s hand restraining me and the soft voice in my head reminding me that I was within the school premises, I would have shown this yeye Olamide that I was fed fufu while growing up and my bones are stronger than she thinks. My fear of the University’s Student Disciplinary Committee (SDC) was her only saving grace. I have kept quiet for long but I can’t keep quiet anymore. This is the tenth week and things haven’t changed.
chicken sauce
Dear diary,

 It's been two weeks since I last wrote to you. How could I have? Each day of the week was booked, either for medicines, hospital appointments, painful groans or ceaseless sleepless nights.  I finally went home, though Ikem had argued that all I needed was rest accompanied by proper medication and good food which he assured me of.
This is a poem that pictures the present Nigerian situation. It emphasizes this view from the feminine perspective; thereby asserting that the feminine folk understands what plagues this country.

We See The Future Too

by on 01:13
This is a poem that pictures the present Nigerian situation. It emphasizes this view from the feminine perspective; thereby asserting tha...
On days he couldn’t pick me at work like yesterday, (according to him because of an executive meeting), I was stuck with taking a cab. However, Bode saved the day; he drove me home, at the gate he turned all the way, opened the door, gave me this warm hug and I promised to call later that night. That was all, believe me!.
Was it the heavy blows nudging my head or the throbbing slaps that caused me to stagger from one edge of the room to the other? Was it the angry words that accompanied each blow or how loud they sounded as his hands wreaked havoc on a fragile me? I can’t tell what brought the tears. The tears slipped fast beneath my lower lid till it touched my upper lip; it tasted salty, unlike the sour taste of blood leaking from my lower lip.
Dear diary,

This week as it turned out, left me wondering “Why does life suddenly give one a sudden twist to every plan we make or anticipate, only to leave us sad, sometimes happy?”