When the body is weary,

And the brain sluggish,

Home is all I think of

When the pressure’s mounted up,

And the stockpile’s tumbling down,

Home is all I think of

When the day’s gone sour,

And the mood sublimes to the dark,

Home is all I think of

When they hatin’ on me,

And displaying their wrenching wickedness,

Home is all I think of

When they stride in pride,

Deceiving themselves to be more than human,

Home is all I think of

Home is the place I can pour out my desperation,

And all my pent up exasperation,

To the next available ear

Home is the place I can lay my weary bones,

And relax my overcharged brain,

On the next comfortable thing

Home is the place I offload burdens,

And forget the silly events,

That nearly cost me the joy within

Home, the place I can be me,

With no lingering judgy eyes,

Without a care ’bout nothing but lemonade

Home is my haven,

From where I observe my wonderful world,

And bask in the familiarities around.



The man, a Father

He worried about the future,

But he trusted, putting up a front,

With chest out, and shoulders up,

He marched on forward,

Striving to the goals, toward

He upheld his values,

Marked himself with discipline and hard work,

Advised with his words of wisdom,

Helped in his own loving way,

Cherished, with his own loving heart,

Cared for, with his own faithful hands

He looked up,

He looked at,

He looked around,

Covering up his wearied strength,

And fighting with each passing breath,

Having faith in who he looked up to,

And helping to bring his loved ones to an expected end.



Will It Ever End?

The whites see themselves as the most civilized and say they introduced it to us.

Yet some are hatin’ on the other all because of color.

Aren’t they being illogically brain-dead about this?

Shame me once if I’m wrong but damn them twice if I’m right.

They push us out of the way,

Spiting us like we carry dread and doom all around,

Trying to pull us in a wave of fear to be accorded them.

If only…

For we embrace them with hospitality

But they roar at us with hostility,

A ‘dis-‘ can be factored in to their grace as human beings

On a flip side, they are like cannibals

‘eating up’ their fellow men in the name of colour.

O thou man of man,

Missing out on the core attribute through which the earth revolves,

Confused and utterly lost by your self-implored thoughts

The blood of our fellow dead black men, screaming out in restlessness.

Oh, for the souls that bled,

For the cake of injustice served,

That always recurs.

To the places of uneasiness,

Where the black race continue to find its foundation shaken on foreign soil,

Will this racism ever come to an end?

Is a black man ever likely to exert such cruel actions on a white man?

Indeed, who’s more civilized?

Interestingly enough, they can show care and love to animals, but a black man, No?

Are We Not Just The Same Human Beings Inhabiting This Earth?

Black Lives Matter!

– Silverlady



Another Prompt on CURVE.

Their life is not always as it seems

They display their luxuries,

And all that glitters,

In, out, and around them,

Behind a camera’s lens

everything’s sorted,

fallen in pleasant places,

A big ‘but’ comes around,

Is all that true?

Are they really happy?

Probe further and you’ll discover

What truly lies before them,

That their life is not always as it seems.

– Silverlady


A prompt on CURVE.

The air was humid

The crickets chirped away

The day had been too sunny

Work had been demanding, as usual

Last year, by this time, she reminisced

She was throwing a small get-together

for her friends and immediate family.

This time around, there’ll be no show.

A lot of factors had taken up most of her money.

As she got closer to the door of her house, blackness immediately engulfed her eyes.

An assailant.

Goosebumps dotted her skin,

Trepidation had set in.

Who was he?

Why wasn’t she oblivious to her surrounding?

Her bag was taken from her.

A cloth had been tied over her head.

Her assailant uttered a grunt signalling for her to move.

Something was being jabbed at her back. A gun?

Where were they going to?

Her next door neighbor’s house?

Her assailant guided her by placing his hand on her shoulder.

She heard footsteps coming closer to her.

An escape, she thought.

But those footsteps stops at her direction and seemed to be on the same page as her assailant.

Who are these guys?, she wondered.

She wanted to ask but she was too afraid.

This new assailant held her arm and made her quicken her steps.

Where they had reached had to be her neighbor’s house, Ms Mandy.

Had they hurt her?

Why her house?

They walked past the veranda.

The door to her house was easily opened.

Right at the entrance of the door they had walked into, her assailant began to remove the tied cloth.

She was brimming with fear and sweat.

The cloth was removed.

SURPRISEEE! A chorus of voices shouts.

Her eyes tries to adjust to the light in the room.

“OMG! You’ve got to be kidding me”, she says even though her words are drowned by the birthday song being sang to her.

“OK, so this surprise birthday was just way out of league,” she says as her close friend, Kuukua comes to hug her, amidst the confetti which dances its way to the floor.

She turned to look at her supposed assailants and see Tom, her bestfriend and her favorite cousin, Max, grinning like two little boys who have been on their most best behavior this time around. Now she was at a lost cause if she should strangle them, beat them up or just hug them. But they took the initiative of hugging her and wishing her. She began to wonder whose idea this was anyways. But her close friend, sensing what she could be thinking about, laughed and told her to save that for later.

Her other friends and family swooned in on her with their smiles, affection and presents. The place looked and smelled good as well.

– Silverlady


TENDER SHAKING (short story)

He was hyperventilating. Crystal beads of cold sweat began to stream from his forehead. A blanket had been draped over him to comfort him but it wasn’t helping. The sound of a young lady’s voice was far too distant for him to notice even though she had bent right in front of him. She touched him, speaking softly but audibly. His attention began to focus on her voice. “It’s alright. Everything’s gonna be okay. Just calm down. You’re in safe hands…” His fast-rap thumping heart begins to slow down. After some minutes, she was heard telling her colleague, “I don’t think this is the right time to ask him.” “It’s been three days now, damn it!! For how long, Emy? How long?? Time’s running out!”, he roared.

“For a boy like him to go through what he went through, he needs time before he can tell us what happened. Allow me to do my job whilst you do yours”, Emy retorted.

Three months passed by before he finally spoke. It was a fine Thursday morning. Emy had bought ice cream for both of them after strolling in the park for some time. After he was almost through with the ice cream, he said out of the blue, “I really miss them.” He heaved heavily as he watched a family of four laughing as they passed by. He looked at Emy with droopy eyes.”

“It all happened when…” he began. Emy bulged out her eyes. The moment she’s been waiting for was finally here.

“Wait, wait, wait”, she said as she quickly rummaged through her bag for her recorder. She’s been patiently but painstakingly waiting for this day to come. She had used subtle means to get him to talk but stopped when she realized his chest began to heave rapidly and his pupils looked dilated anytime she brought that up.

“Poor Tom, just 13 years old and he had to go through this unfortunate incident”, she would think. He became attached to her though he was quiet most of the time. Emy indulged him in conversations and activities but tried to bring up the subject every once in a while. He loosened up after some time but she definitely didn’t know what happened today of all days, that he decided to speak up.

She was thrilled but terrified by the confession she heard from the boy. Finally, justice could be served. Her police friend, Constable Dre wasn’t amused but ready to take on the task when the recorded message was brought to him. He had wanted the boy to confess the moment he stepped foot in the interrogation room.

Damn his trauma, or post-traumatic stress disorder and all the whatnots that was said of his condition, for the suspects were released for lack of a witness testifying in court, and evidence. But he eventually became happy that justice could be served on those wicked criminals.

Eventually, they were caught, tried and charged, and locked up in prison for a very long time. Their offence; for using a trap to kill Tom’s parents and assaulting and molesting his sister before she was killed too, and for arson.

In the days that followed, Tom and Emy became very close friends and kept in touch with each other, telling their own immediate families the stories of how close they became till death separated one from the other in their old age.

– Silverlady


A prompt on BELOW.

Below the ravaging sun,

On the planet called Earth

It’s inhabitant live,

Holding on to what is clear and true

Their creation, their workmanship

Forgetting their creator,

Putting pre-eminence on the inferior,

Neglecting the very essence of their lives,

Being occupied unwholesomely

Deceiving their sorry souls’ capabilities

Disregarding He who can unleash their true potential,

And so, below average, they roam

However a class of people

Chosen by the Creator,

Have been shown the revelation,

Decisively walking in His illumination.


– 10/04/2020