Tides of life rise,
with aim to consume.
Stay afloat by ceaseless sculling—
and count self lucky—
from one day to the next.
Tides rise wildly
in the face of a leadership monopoly,
dark skies looming,
illuminated by bureaucratic lightning
and ominous claps of thunder—
a storm making violent the tide.
Swimming blindly,
no reset button in sight,
a cureless malady—
of corrupt statesmen—
with a Get Out of Jail Card-Free.
It’s about Monopoly with a Twist at dVerse!
Click and join in! 😉
Sitting in front of her large PC monitor, she is bombarded with viral news—ranging from facts to the alleged. YouTube algorithms feed her digital broadcasts from the West, with content creators on both sides of the divide airing their views—Isaac and Ishmael; Donkey and Elephant; Bear and Trident. War, death, and oppression are the order of the day.
Her many clicks finally bring her home to reality—online echoes of weary youths raising their voices, expressing her homeland’s frustration with a political administration that cares little for its own. Leaders who line their pockets, fattened by greed, entangle themselves in meaningless scandals.
The viral online rant of a young citizen spreads like wildfire, igniting a movement— even the powers that be tried to silence it. The ongoing 30-Day Rant Challenge—watch, listen, and you will hear—there’s a lullaby for suffering.
Dear reader,
My apologies in advance if my piece carries too much of a political undertone. Today, I am participating in the dVerse challenge -Prosery, Leonard Cohen- while also taking part in an online protest here at home. So please bear with me!
Besides, you get to know a little about where I'm from... 😉
Happy reading! 😊
Where I come from, there is a belief that if you want to see a ghost, you need only go to a marketplace in the dead of night—bend over and look between your legs, and voilà! You will be visually transported to the realm of wandering souls in the marketplace. This action supposedly even reveals those in the market who are actually of the spirit world—but heaven forbid you are noticed by one of these specters before you get back up… you never get back up.
Now, the first time I heard of this, I shrugged it off with a “Yeah, rrrright!”—but as superstitious a belief as this may be, I would never try it!
Another “cultural” superstition in certain parts of my country is that of the Osu caste system—a traditional practice in Igboland, characterized by social segregation and restrictions on interaction and marriage with a group of individuals known as Osu (Igbo: outcast) (Wikipedia). Igbo families believe that marrying an Osu only brings bad luck and, as a result, they frown upon it. Some families have actually gone as far as disowning their own for doing so.
As an uncle of mine, of Igbo descent, once said when he was asked if he would allow his child to marry someone of such background:
“I count myself to be a modern man, able to see past our local superstitions. But you see, on this matter… no be me start this cultural belief, and so no be me go break am.”
(He is basically saying that he’d rather not question the belief and therefore would not allow his child to marry into such a family.)
Like my uncle, I, too, see myself as one who has risen above superstitious beliefs, and that’s because I won’t dabble in them in the first place—not even when it comes to a lucky rabbit’s foot or itchy palms that supposedly indicate money is on its way.
Away sounds of distant thunder
sparks prayer for cool weather
for a moment humidity flees
silence is broken by rustling trees
sounds of night competing
as distant thunder abates the heat
coming dawn gazes upon the scene
coming unforgiving Sun-
not caring a hoot…
Sitting in my chair, the crack of distant thunder inspired this piece. I hope it does justice to this week’s Quadrille prompt on dVerse – Quadrille #219 – A Poetic Hootenanny
Join in and “give a hoot about the rules and write a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title), including some semblance of the word hoot…“
Cheers! 🙂
“Just kidding! I bear no resemblance to the walrus—just thought I’d entertain you while you’re here. 🙂 I, for one, see myself more as an elephant, and for good reason: An elephant never forgets!
Funny as it may sound, my love for elephants began in my teens. I had watched Disney’s Jungle Book countless times before, but one day, the phrase hit me differently: “An elephant never forgets!” Maybe I was studying for an exam and wanted to embody that persona—who knows? But from that moment, the words and the idea of the elephant stuck with me.
My love for these magnificent creatures only grew when my aunt gifted me a silver waist chain adorned with elephant charms—the most beautiful piece of jewelry I ever owned… until I lost it. After that, I found myself searching for a replacement, and I was drawn to an ankle chain with the same elephant motif. Why the elephant? I wondered. It wasn’t until I wrote My Honey Bee… To My Daughter, a piece about the essence of the honeybee, that I revisited my fascination with elephants.
It turns out elephants are more than just creatures with keen memories. They grieve their dead, symbolize strength and wisdom, and in many cultures, they represent luck, prosperity, and leadership. Among the Ashanti people of West Africa, elephants are believed to be the reincarnated souls of their great leaders... Too much? 🙂
Now, I’m “playing with the idea“ of getting a tattoo—you can probably guess what it will be. 😉
… To me, the elephant embodies peace, wisdom, strength, loyalty, majesty, family, culture, and longevity”- and I am she.
Beast without Burden
From Africa to Asia
with strengths unquestioned
Hi! How’s it going? Are we doing okay?
Did the world ‘as we know it’ finally end? What’s the situation on global warming? Has AI finally taken over?
How is our baby girl? Are you and Sena still best of friends? Any grandkids?
I truly hope you’re in a good place and time right now. If you’re reading this, it means you’re of sound mind and body (I hope) at a hundred—congratulations! Please write back and share the regimen that has kept you going so long. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to fill me in on the global stock market… should I be selling my Tesla stock?😧
‘Came by way of a thief in the night
Said Ma’
Initially unwanted by
… Papa
Four months too soon
Preterm
Complication stirred up intercessions
… Please stay
Decades since, “Celebration” in my name
“FK” 😉
Festival King, FK for short, is obviously not my real name – BUT just so you know, my pseudo is coined from my first and last names … First name actually meaning “Celebration”:)
An old poem of mine gives insight into my Last name. Click the link if you’d like to read: OTARU
MTB: The Poetry of Names – Today’s MTB prompt on @dVerse has us writing a WaltMarie poetry style*:
And the theme of your poem should be
Consider/imagine how it was chosen, what has it meant to carry that name.
ENJOY!!! 🙂
Hello! And if you haven’t experienced it yet, welcome to a quick intro to Nigerian Pidgin language! 🙂
The word “Wetin” is a Nigerian Pidgin word that means “what.” For example, “Wetin dey happen?” means “What is going on?”
Now, my mom—who also happens to be my housemate (Love you, Mama!)—is the absolute worst at minding her own business. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not a gossip… who am I fooling? Aren’t we all, to a certain degree? 😉 In these parts, people who have a knack for giving the best updates on other people’s business are called “Gist masters” or “Amebos.” But I digress!
In my 20s and even my 30s, it was cool when Mommy dearest wanted to know what I was up to or what I was wearing out. But these days? COME ON, MAMA!
I walk out of the kitchen, and if I so much as make a fist as I leave, she goes, “Wetin you dey carry for hand?” If I’m chewing, “Wetin you dey chop?” Even right now, as I’m typing this message, she could probably walk into my room and ask, “Wetin you dey do?” And in my head, I’m thinking, “Woman, I don’t owe you an explanation!” But, of course, as a good old-fashioned Nigerian daughter, I have to give an answer—even if it’s not always the full truth—just so we can MOVE ON.
Now, the word “Wetin” has even more cool variations, like “Wetin dey happen?” or “Wetin dey shele?” Or just plain and simple “Wetin dey?!” So never look down on that term, ’cause it’s cool! 🙂
To my younger self: That dream came true. You are a single woman…
Looking back, the desire for connection, a soulmate, and that fairytale happy ending B.S. only led to drama and smoke screens. Most scenes ended with the classic “It’s not you, it’s me” speech—wrong frequencies of tribe, class, or religion.
I sure could pick them, right? 🙂
This cycle ran from my 20s through my mid-30s. And then, I met her. We crossed paths just as I was about to check into heartbreak hotel once again—well, not so much heartbreak this time, as I had already given up on the relationship and was ready to walk away. And then she appeared, full of beauty and charm, completely enchanting me.
The first time I told my mom about her, she said something profound:
“You’ve spent all this time running through failed love stories. Now she’s here, and you have the perfect chance at love. I pray you do right by her.”
That was the moment I realized—my past wasn’t a curse. It was a path leading me to my true love story.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned—among the many lessons she has brought into my life—it’s the discipline of loving myself first and enough. That way, even when love isn’t reciprocated, I remain whole. I am good enough for me—strong enough to know I deserve better and wise enough to move the hell on.
To my younger self: That dream came true. You are a single woman… and the proud mother of the most incredible 8-year-old—the kind of love money could never buy. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Raped of essence, Gaya thinks:
life is an affliction!
homo sapien sedition,
greenhouse emission,
they ruin my flawless skin…
Take me back to Eden's wake,
time of the primordial soup
when all was new
and only felt was heaven's embrace
cradled by sun and moon's light
Skies filled with faraway stars once vivid
now blanketed by industry’s breath
the heavens polluted by technology
nothing is left undefiled
like a dog with fleas, I am sets unease
Overpopulating, they
consuming all in their wake
their parasitic resilience
unsusceptible to my defenses
all failed attempts to quash them
weaponizing my tears
my quaking body and seething pants
yet the malady unable to shake
beset, but corrected I stand
… man, not life is my only affliction
Worn, abused and tired am I
Awaiting what're be my end
by tormenters within
'else by heaven's kind hand
leading me back to Eden's wake
Inspired by the dVerse prompt: Metamorphosis of Sorts
Festival King 