The Female Child. by @Anubabyy

paintings-2
Her parents knew she was meant for great things.
As a child the birds were drawn to her
Leaves grew greener on paths which she walked.
The air always seemed fresher where ever she stepped
And her smile… Oh yes! her smile made flowers blossom.

As a teenager she made fresh water rush
The flowers bloomed around her
The butterflies fluttered
She was springs queen.

In Autumn she would watch the leaves fall with tears in her eyes…
She would whisper words as she said goodbye
It confused her parents, but still they believed she had a kind heart.

She became a woman
The most kind hearted and free spirited woman ever
She would dance with the wind and sway her hips

The gods came down and told her they had waited for her to grow and become a woman,
they had long awaited for her arrival,
The day she was given birth to beautiful snow fell
The softest snow that was ever felt.
They told her she was mother nature
A queen of seasons who would birth a child of hope.

Anuoluwapo Kalejaiye.
@Anubabyy

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@ezi1nne’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Ezinne’s letter.

Hang in there.

Olamide's Letter.

Ezinne’s Letter.

My Little One,

Your arrival has been long anticipated, if by none, by me

For my bosom swells with the words I have harboured for a lifetime

I hoped to tell the story myself, but I’d rather you read

For in writing, I have poured the misery of my pent soul on a blank sheet. A clean slate. My heart’s desire.

I loved. I loved a man. He loved himself

I lost my heart. He lost himself

He was my passion. Misdirected passion is death. I died a thousand times

He was my thousand pasts, my infinite future

But he lost himself. Nowhere, just in himself

He was the cordage holding the pieces of my heart, for the heart never breaks even

He was my heart in the whole, but he lost himself

Then I was certain that I’d never understand, until it was broken. I was broken

And in gathering the fragments of me, I began to understand

That to love a man, is to love yourself

And to give love to a man, you must give love to yourself

For you cannot give what you do not have.

I amassed what was left of me, and so perceived

That man is a judge, this plague, his sense of security

The finding of fault in another, his haven

So I learnt never to compromise, for in surrendering I condemned myself

I revelled in this understanding, (for I’d be judged by my actions) as wisdom, I’d heard, is supreme

As I regained what was left of my broken womanhood, I began to understand

The need to speak and let myself be heard of the world

Not just speak, but bespeak with apprehension and timeliness

For the difference between the wise and the fool is in knowing when to speak

I understood the need to find strength, a succor for my will

To stand for what I believed in, for if you stand for nothing, you fall for everything

And then you lose respect; respect is given to the man who merits it

My helpless enervation helped me know never to trust in man

For even man cannot trust him self

And in trusting no one, never to play the fool, the need for cutesy no matter

For I have come to know and revel in the knowledge that God loves ugly

The distraction of outer beauty I abhor, as a lesson I have learned from experience

In the catacombs of my misery I revered the sweet stench of truth

To hold independence as a scythe, and hardwork as a buffer

To stay disappointments from putrid promises made by man

An ever dynamic fragment of reality, capable of showing hell and heaven in one heartbeat

And between these two realities, a negligible chasm of honesty

Which is paramount in life, for an honest man is God’s noblest handwork

Through the darkness and fear, the whispers of lingering shadows of regret

In myself I found hope, for I yet lived, though none too gloriously

I compared myself to no one for no two people have exactly the same capabilities

God is creative you know

I amassed a wealth of endurance in hardships and patience in tribulation

Revering the prize I was worth, of laughter, of life, of love.

Love

The cordage binding man to woman, woman to child, child to friend

Making foes of friends and friends of foes

I had loved and lost and loved again

With the my broken shards of misery I vowed never to let innocence make me vulnerable

For I know beasts crave the innocent, my unguarded heart, their victual

As the worldly man craves the gullible, her ignorance, his bludgeon

I learned never to betray my happiness in seeking unrequited love

For love solicits not just one’s happiness, but the welfare and contentment of the one loved

I vowed to give the love around for karma was now my companion

I knew my heart was gold and he who will earn the broken pieces

Must bear battle scars, the epitome of mine, in giving and in forgiving

I have come to discover the evil days

The days when I look in the mirror and am a stranger to myself

But my woes are well spent, for I know now, that I am a stranger to my past

For in finding these new virtues I found myself

I found the stubborn kindness in me and honed it with discipline and perseverance

For I know of wolves who take advantage of kindness, selfishness is their burden

But this couldn’t change me, only if the change wrought development

In this did I know that my fragile soul whispered at every phase

For angels that may never come, as they feared the darkness in my heart

Do not despair, this strangeness, for there is no strangeness without beauty.

My Little One, I have reproduced a refined me in you

That you may learn these and more at my feet as you will feed from my bosom

Beauty, wisdom, hardwork and the light of the mind

I picked the pieces of my heart and stood up straight

No longer afraid of the dark, no longer in shame

No longer loathe to exhibit the illuminative excellence of my mind

My mind is my beauty and beauty should be left unscarred

A scar is a memory and memories should last forever

I have loved and lost, I have built and have been broken

But despite all I come unscathed

I will love again, I will love anew

I will love. I will love you.

Your mother,
Ezinne Onyeka.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@nzurixnzuri’s letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Bunmi’s letter.

Hang in there.

Victoria's Letter

Bunmi’s Letter

Dear daughter,

For a little girl with eyes wide shut and arms wide open as these words inundate her very being.

Like arrows in the hand of a mighty man, this little girl is mine
This little girl is a part of me

Smiling in your sleep,I wonder what makes you smile so
Is my little angel dreaming?
Is she dreaming of happy places and thinking happy thoughts?

Your eyes flutter open
And you smile at me
Your smile warms my heart like thermal socks on an English winter night
And I tell you this feeling right here is a genesis older than the big bang

Looking into your eyes, I smile back
Lighting up like a thousand fireflies,
Your beautiful brown eyes are as pure as the driven snow
Eyes filled with all the innocence and curiosity that comes with being a new-born
I see that curiosity in your eyes,
Like Dora my little angel is eager to take on the world
This meretricious world you’re so eager to explore is evil and cold

Darling daughter you are not grey, yellow or beige
Your skin is the color of your father’s joy and your mother’s love
Despite what society and television tell you, hard work, sincerity and honesty are more important than the price of your handbag or red-soled shoes.

When you are up to your knees in disappointment
When, planning your crucifixion,
Life pins you from side
When you’re overwhelmed
Baby,you don’t have to bear it all on own
I have no red cape but baby girl I’d be your Supermom
I’d always have comfort food for those days when the glitter fades,
And you feel torn and dejected.
We’d eat popcorn and chocolates
Watch reruns of Friends
And most importantly take it to the Lord in prayer

Do not fret darling child
Like the sand welcomes the ocean,
He’s always there to receive you in his arms.
When you feel you’re not good enough Remember God made you good enough.
Don’t you dare forget, you are the strongest creature to exist, you’re His masterpiece
You have the light to fight the darkness
Don’t you dare forget!
He made you beautiful!
He made you unique!

Dear daughter,
Have big dreams
Invest in your mind
Read far and wide,
For indeed,
The secrets to this world
Are found,
Where pen and paper confluence
Be grateful for everything you have
And everyone you meet.
Like Barak on that cold January morning As he made history,
Dear daughter stand tall and proud. Fashion your arms like airplanes
And say to yourself…

“I AM PRICELESS”!

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project continues on monday, with @ObaFuntAy’s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@Scarville’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Jenim’s letter.

Hang in there.

Jenim's Letter

Jenim’s Letter

My child, my child
Welcome to a world I was welcomed to
What seems not so far long ago
When the air was not eerie
And life was placid and not so scary
Of course I lie, what is now is what has been
All you see, the sun hath seen
The air is tense and always dense
And life is acid, it makes no sense
But I know of one I met while I yet lived
And came to know and came to grow
To love forevermore
One from whom emerged branches
Branches loved differently by different souls
And has his roots deep in the human spirit
One inspired by the muses or of God himself
One that had the power to make a grown man weep
(I’m a woman, I wept a fountain)
And a new-born dance
One filled with words which are as shallow as a stream
Or as deep as the Pacific on a rainy night
One whose end calls for an encore
I met him as a child and it indeed was love at sight
For the rest of my days I sought for depth
In him was character no one could touch
Loved by all yet none could touch
He speaks aloud with lots of words
Silently moulding the lives of them which heard
I can only try and fail to explain to you
The joy that fills my heart when I listen to a song I love
Or when I fall in love with a song for the first time
The urge I feel to see the song again and again and only again
His words or his rhythm
Music is my only love
If one could plant a grin upon my face
Or put a grey upon my days
Or weave pain through my heart
It was music, it was music on any day
I watched in adoration as a hundred thousand people
Sang while the musician stopped singing and watched them sing his song
He laughs in joy for the song he wrote had changed lives
I smiled at the hope that music transferred to those in pain
I wondered at the most powerful creation
That had such an impact on the soul of man
How a frog needed not the eloquent voice of music
To have a song in his heart
The power it has over the feet of men
Oh, to sway and lift mortals off the ground
To neutralize the acidity of life
One that could make you high on a bridge
And depresses you at the refrain
Which modulates your emotions as the waves of the ocean
Mouths that can’t talk explain with music
Hearts that can’t beat say so in songs
In all you do, never disparage the branch a man loves
Love yours and always carry a song in your heart
Go for his lyrics, they’ll increase your depth
The rhythm is important, more so for the shallow
Guard your heart, music has his yin
Yes his darkness, which darkens the hearts of men
What more can I say of that I love
More than the air I breathe
The string instruments will melt a heart of stone
If you meet a boy that plays the violin, marry him
Oh, I kid, take me not seriously on that last line
But do marry him by all means necessary
The acoustic guitar, the piano I love too
The drums that beat the beating heart
The harp, the flute, the sax, the mute
Doth play, music hath no inhibition
I’ve loved a few, a few have loved back
But when the wind it blew, it blew both loves away
And memories are all that’s left
Music was with me before I loved
And picked my heart from the floor
And with the hand of time healed it more
The secret chord that David played
That pleased God and king him made
On the wings of music I talk to God
As Moses did, face to face, heart to heart
The children’s flaw hath made them bound
Their captors required of them a song
God’s own children could not sing his song in a strange land
What indeed is in a song
That frees the slave with amazing grace
On days of angst, music reminds me I’m not alone
What’s a song but a heart that’s dancing through the mouth
And when the mouth be dumb
The heart it dances through the feet
And when the feet be numb
The heart it dances through the ears
And when the hearing’s gone
And it seems that sound can no more be born
And music can no more be heard
And he who hears not wishes he were dead
God creates a man to show the world
What music seems and what music means
He named him Ludwig Van Beethoven
He who once heard but one day heard no more
And when this acid of life was poured upon his face
He wished to see his days end before his day
But when hope hath walked to him
And shook his hand and sat with him
He composed his Ninth Symphony
With his heart’s melody
And when the performance was done
He with his back to the crowd
Heard not the thundering applause of the audience
That gave him reverence
Till he was turned, and began to weep
And he which heard not changed the century in which he lived
Music is faith, that tells you light up, even if you cannot hear my voice I’ll be right beside you dear
Music is hope, that tells you if everything we got is fading away, we’ve a rock in a Rock till our dying day
Music is a voice, when he declares: questions of science, science and progress do not speak as loud as my heart
Music is a friend, especially to the lonely, he says I’m holding onto you holding on to me, maybe its all we’ve got but its all I need
Music is spiritual, that transcendental breeze between mortality and deity
Music is healing, he whispers, tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace but I will try to fix you
Music is sublime, as water is to the body so is music to the soul
Music is peace, it lays the soul at war upon lake placid to take a nap
Above all, my child, music is life alive
Before you took your first breath it was
After you take your last it’ll be
But do not dare take that deep, sorrowful last breath my child
Without letting the world hear your song by the life you’ve lived.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with Aw3L3’s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

To the Deaf and Dumb

So this poem was sent in my a fellow @SmileCare member who attended the Wesley school for the hearing impaired outreach.

Enjoy

Source: Google

I wish it was no concern of mine,
But yet I wish that you would try
To teach the hand the tongue’s strange art
To tell the stories of the heart.

For you have never heard a sound,
Have never uttered a word with the tongue
The music of your looks, nor found
A voice their sweetness to prolong.
I’ve seen what you too could see,
The calm,  The motion and the breeze
Of  various elements combined  but yet free,
to satisfy the cravings of our eyes

I’ve seen what you have seen, the sky
As pure as innocence could make it,
As blue and bright as beauty’s eye,
With not a tearful wink to shake it.
Ask not for words in such an hour,
nor the ear’s listening power.

Sense is not competent to tell
The striving of the bound soul;
Thoughts high as heaven and deep as hell,
Will awfully around it roll;
And words are violations that dare
Its fearful workings to declare

@Baby_Shamzy thinking on obafuntay(dot)com

Hello Vanity

Source: Google

Today I'm in church, yesterday I was drunk
The preacher has no idea, to him I'm a monk 
But for a heads turn many exams I'd have flunked
Far below .. Deep, I have sunk 

One more step and there'll be no return
I'm chasing I'm chasing 
A thin line I'm tracing  
These "things" I seek, these "things" I cherish 
When I'm gone, these things will Perish

Money, houses, beauty, cars 
Even though we can't reach .. We sell the stars 
What is the meaning? .. What is the point?
Why we fill our glass ..why we roll a joint 

Fancy cars and expensive clothes
Annoying init how they don't join us in growth 
So we grow and we move on 
Ever searching for a new thrill.. For new fun 
My brother there's nothing new under this sun

Vanity upon vanity so the bible says 
At the end of the road we would part ways 
Me and my new car, you and your cool clothes 
Instead of our time to God we pray.. 

We go online and "I'm bored",we say
I'm no saint .. U bet your left eye, I stray
But then I wonder.. Look out my window and stare into yonder 
Life's quality, how then do we measure?  
Because Some kids can't afford boredom to them its a treasure

You see, boredom is a luxury, absence of usual pleasure 
Henceforth, I'll slow down, let me give u the low down
The important things I'll appreciate
My worries I'll elevate high to Him whom with, more I should relate

Empty things and meaningless treasure 
For want of such we heap on our heads enormous pressure
I hope therefore, my point I've made
Vanity upon vanity ... Everything will fade

- @seuntomas thinking on ObaFuntAy(dot)com

My Silent Cry

Redrawn by Rekia

In a place I shouldn’t be,
How did I get here? What happened to me?
Once upon a time, I used to go on my knees,
Dot my I’s and cross my T’s

I didn’t only look back, to Sodom I went,
The familiar felt safer, the past I held on to,
My knees clean, my hands dirty,
A furnished wardrobe filled with dirty apparel.

In pursuit of happiness,
In this wilderness,
It’s all but fleeting happiness,
Let me sleep… allow me to be.

Priorities have taken a walk,
What I look on the outside matters more that what’s on the inside,
I spend on what I ought not rather than invest in what I should,
My mind in pandemonium, deep has become shallow.

Wake me not, the dawn, let it tarry,
This weight I can no longer carry,
Like the one in Notre Dame, I have a hunch back,
When the light is off, and it’s all dark…

I stop to think, ponder, wonder… how do I fix this? Get it right?

You see, at this point, I don’t know what to do,
I’m not ending this post with a “I choose to do this or that”
‘Cause frankly, this time, I don’t know what to think, talk more of do.
Along the line, in this maze, I got lost.

This is my scream for help… for now, my mask I put back on

But there you have it, my silent cry.