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Best Poems Written by Akinloye Gbajero Sunday

Below are the all-time best Akinloye Gbajero Sunday poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Journey of My Land

I know all,
Even when I was not born;
My teacher told me more,
On the journey of my Land

First day of October,
Yes! My teacher said it's 1960;
Till then,
We were not matured to own our land.

Our nobles raised a beacon of hope,
Shinning with power of justice;
The white were choiceless,
Only to allow us to bear our name.

The kaakis came in 66,
Against the bridge connecting two sides,
Many bloods soaked the ground,
On 'I want to lead'.

'Ali must go!"
Was the raised fist of 78
As 50kobo increment of tuition fee
Came to turn the sky to earth.

Like a bolt of lightning,
79 came suddenly,
Giving power to a pacifist,
But left swiftly to martials 

The ho-o-o-o-ho-o of ANTI- SAP,
Covered the world in 89;
Our income could not save us,
We were in cancer cell.

We totally accepted 
We were in a sinking ship,
When our figure was manipulated in 93,
Our choice was denied

The snake came with mask figure,
At least we were given Democracy in 99;
But later,
It turned to rotten apple. 

Do you remember 2012 removed subsidies?
It was selling #140,
While now is #630.

2017 encountered EndSARS,
Hence, talent were truncated,
Like a story left unfinished 
Until it's off in 2020.

Although I was a boy, 
When I could not identify the wrong and right;
My teacher told me,
Democracy upgraded corruption. 

My country is the best country,
That's in printing new notes,
See how 2023 notes 
Have circulated before June.

I know one day,
October 1st will see our pain;
Its flag will fly with joy
And the pledge will go with pride.

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

To an Underrated Father

O father, unappreciated,
For all the work you've done and made.
Though you go out each day, to earn,
Your family fails to see your worth.

You toil to feed the family's needs,
But little thanks is what you receive.
Your hard work's taken for granted,
And often your efforts are slanted.

Though you are first to face a threat,
Your praise is last, your lot is set.
But know your value's not erased,
For heaven sees your sacrifice.

So take heart, and carry on,
For the family you love, you've won.

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

Black Mercy

We all know the day,
Which we came to fay;
We all remember the day,
Which the black and white were faraway;
We all mark the day,
Which our power became black not grey.

So horrible,
That we were so gullible;
Why is our case always like moth,
That fly into a flame?
Why are we always victims
of 'Black Mercy'?

The Journey of years
Get worse in sneers;
In the beginning, 
We rose a compatriots
But a little trick from them—
We became children
That chase after butterfly,
Not considering a pit ahead.

When will we be out of our predicament?
When is our self-slavery ending?
We pledge all days, all nights,
But the nation has failed us,
All days, all nights 
We always cry to remember
The freedom as a slavery 
Which is a 'Black Mercy'

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

People Will Love Me

I came into the world with one life to live,
The joy of brothers shall be my warrant through—
Even the reach is not their pleasure.

The kindness of a poor is neglected— 
Forgetting that it's the last power from them to men,
Only for Wealth to make a chance for self interest;
The world will sing with the joy of child on Christmas morning.

In most cases,
Just like a marathon runner,
I felt tired with doubt to continue with the last leg; 
But the grateful trees, and  restless breeze 
Made me felt world loves me more.

I will give the world my light,
Although I might not be found;
But when I am there no more,
People will raise the flags, show the world, and build a nation for me 
Where they will talk about the things I've done
Discus my good, but omit my wrongs 
By then, the value is gone,
The light is off.

Ask why light is not celebrated in day?
Only when it is no more, the value will come.

A light man is worthless in a dark shadow,
All the fame, all the riches 
Are transient the moment the light is gone,
The moment I’m alive, celebrate me!
I can be only useful when I am on feet,
Immediately I'm down the feet,
Is there any feeling to experience your love?

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

The Crying Eye Sees

The eye's seen enough 
The heart's beat a lot for the bluff
Of the joyful hope of sorrow 
That’s  promised for every morrow 
By the driver of the land's wealth—
Who's covered the land's breath
Like the spreading sky.

Over many years of false 
The land still remains
Like that of yesterday 
Poverty kills a lot under 
Your table—the record of life.

The crying eye sees
Time is getting older
We see unity as our weapon 
Even you act like deaf master—
Who does not hear the cry of his servant 


Why!
Why always making the poor to face the sun?
Why remembering us the root we came from?
Why making us like a beggar 
Struggling out of mansion without stick?

In your time,
Education was free
Did we commit offense 
That's made our time 
To have an arm and a leg?
This ’s the  unanswered question
We have kept asking.

Come back comrades!
It's time to light our candle!
Walk in street to street!
Move from door to door!
Shift from gate to gate!
With the beautiful song 
Aluta continua!
Victoria acerta!

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

I May Die

The image of demise refined,
Thus, my body was confined 
So dismal, doleful and discomfited 
Although the wicked wish went awry
But, I still weighed 'I may die'.

Suddenly, I saw my soul stalled;
After a short time, it questioned,
"Are you aghast of death?"
This question remained on my eye,
As my tears said 'I may die'.

For whether we live,
We live unto the Lord;
And whether we relive,
We relive unto the Lord
We live or die, we are the Lord. 

With this,
Confidence reported like
There is nothing worse than death
Death is assured;
Thus, we must feel 'I may die'.

You run after riches,
On the floor of the fallen men;
Remember you shall die like men,
And fall like one of the princes
What'll be your gain if you die?

Your father,
Where is he?
Does your prophet live forever?
With your power, the world is slave 
Don't you think 'if I die?'

As it was,
The body will devolve by the earth 
Whatever you call yourself;
Always remember,
'I may die'.

by Akinloye Gbajero S. (c. June 5, 2023).
(ref. Romans, 14:8, Psalms, 82:7, Zechariah, 1:5, Ecclesiastes 12:7).

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

The Royal Epistle to the Ladies on the Street

Dear beloved ladies on the street,

Your beauty should not be for rent,
It's more than that which is spent.
Your body's not for worldly gain,
It's meant for love, not worldly pain.

True love is not in what you do,
But what you are, deep down, it's true.
Your heart is not for money's sake,
It's for God, and love to make.

You're precious, more than any gold,
A soul of value to behold.
I pray that you will come to see,
Your worth is more than you believe.

Virginity is not a sin, but pride,
A treasure to be held inside.
A gift to give to one you love,
A sacred vow from heaven above.

So, ladies, hear this plea,
And turn from all your vanity.
Protect your bodies and your souls,
And let your love for God control.

Your future husband is waiting there,
To love you with all of his care.
Don't waste your beauty in the night,
When you could be a wife so bright.

Choose a path that's filled with grace,
And you'll find love in a sacred place
Your bodies are a holy shrine,
Deserving of the highest design.

Don't let the world deceive your heart,
With empty promises, a false start.
Remember, true love is patient, kind,
It doesn't boast, it's not confined.

So, ladies, hear this plea, I pray,
And let God's love guide you each day.
Don't sell your bodies on the street,
Keep them pure, and love complete.

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

At the Opened Door of the Weekday

At the opened door of the weekday
The throat of the gate is choked 
With the clamour of the cliché 
of Aluta continua! 

The little drop of hope 
For the poor to breath on
Is now for the rich to tope
We might be covered 
Like a stone in the grass
Yet still, we shall rise
Like sunlight from the sea.

Education is a right
Not a privilege 
Why always the poor with austerity?
Why always the lower being suffocated?
Despite we are all the green and white.

The sun's protested for the pain
Even the cloud's lamented 
Are we not the same?
Outside the board 
You show your responsibility 
But those under suffer a lot.

Why the hard decision on us?
Why extorting the little we could use 
For the survival of our dinner dine?
Why forcing our future out of us?
Why so cruel
That you see everyone in your shoes?

The street has no choice,
Many talents will drop as your desire
We struggle to live!
We are students,
Not cash cows!
We shall not be broken!
Our flag will always fly on sky!
Our song will always be sung!
Is either you grant our wish
Or the world is shut!
The poor must breath!
And Aluta will not be ceased 
To continue!

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

The Lying Lady

A tale of woe, deceit and dread,
Of love now turned to sadness spread.

In blame my gaze did fall upon,
A window frame, with truth upon.

A sight most dire, 'twas clear to see,
She with another man so free.

Her lover came, and to him she kissed,
A deception, an art she had perfected.

He believed her sweet, beguiling lies,
Unknowing of her devious disguise.

But her false love was not to last,
For truth can always break.

She left, with lies to ensnare,
A betrayal to leave despair.

A scarring wound that lingers still,
A love to break a fragile urn of will.

A trust that's been made false and fake,
A love that crumbles to heartbreak's wake.

This tale of woe did teach me clear,
No spark of falsehood should I hold so dear.

For lies can burn and leave a scar,
That takes eons to heal afar.

Details | Akinloye Gbajero Sunday Poem

My Error and My Teacher

In days long gone when first the quill
Fearful was I to mar the virgin page,
Lest error should stain my spirit's all
But words of Wisdom did my teacher engage—
'When error comes, do not erase in shame
For mistakes, like stepping stones, 
Shall lead to mastery if thou dost not condemn.’

When errors be concealed 
'Tis like a cloth pierced with holes so none shall it defend.
So rather mark them out with purpose true,
And begin again to mend with ink anew.
Forth my teacher says—
'Let not thy errors weigh thee down with dread
For learning's a path that twists and turns.’

'Tis so with life, as book and quill,
The path we tread is filled with pratfall'
But with this my teacher stood to declare—
‘So when thy steps go astray, do not despair,
But rather view the errors as guide
For 'tis by misadventure thou shalt find
The path to wisdom thou dost seek inside.’

‘Thy life, like a book, is writ with care,  
Each word a step along thy destined way.  
And should thou seek to hide thine errors made,  
Thy character shall not be shown that day.’

Errors do not give anyone's art,
But hiding them mars one's true fate
Life is naught but pages yet to fill
But only if your mind is at still
Cast away fears, let them fly!
Courage reveals the path needs to buy 
If you open your heart and spread your wig.