Best Ibadan Poems
WE . . . NOT FRUSTRATED
Those whose mouth speak and ooze
Only fire of a voluble vibrating vocabulary
Those whose sin is just speaking for others
In order for their other orders not to be ordered
Those whose lives were almost snuffed
Away by the ordered ultra-fascists gangsters
Those whose words sparkles only fire
To fire the unfired spirits into burn- fires
Those whose political jargons-renditions
Send thousands frenzy for action
Those whose offence is probing beyond
The nostril above their faces
Those who are ostracized for louding the truth
Above the speaker of the U and I garden
These
Are those my bird flock together with
During the day in search of the night
I among those given heavy knock on
The head for these inequities known only to them
I among those who are painted in stinker Toga
Of Miscreants, Disgruntled elements,…
I among those placed on a four season wheel-chair
With a gun powder explosion underneath
But
For them their son that strike the cheek of a Porter
More thunderous a slap to be queried nor be punished
For them their sons and daughters whose oblongata
Remains blank but full of giraffe and chips in the exams
For them their stooges that converse with guns and goons
For them that smile with axes, guns, daggers . . .
To strike, shoot and maim others
For them their anchors that knows nothing but something
For out of their nothing lies violence and blood
For they speaketh nor write
For them their boys they present a golden plate of honour
Found worthy in learning and character
Doomed to become menace to the society
For we . . . remain resolute
For we . . . not frustrated
For we . . . not cowed
For we . . . unperturbed
For we shall uphold the pillar of truth
Until our struggle shall beam light en route the tunnel
Alayande Stephen .T
12th February,2006
11.28am
Conceptualised after my four semester rustication
Verdict by Prof.Bamiro UI VC led SDC in
University of Ibadan on the 31st of January,2006.
A Promise to myself to refire the struggle not to retire.
Brobdingnagian people of wealth
Possessing sinewy warriors of health
Brawny nature makes empires shiver
City wall stronger more than ever.
The people of great black magic
Though they are meek
Gallant like the pride of barbados
They brought glory to us.
Their food, culture, tradition and music
Known all over the world like Sikh
Great Empire Dynasties of Oyo, Ibadan, Ife, Owu and Ogbomoso.
Source of great writers to Nigeria
Whose work are publish around the world in various media
Salute to the shrewd people
Of the South-West Pole
PERSERVERANCE BREEDS SUCCESS
Jss One was an insult, I cried
Like time should hit full stop,
My breakfast was sweet without
Salt,
My parents tasted like this evil
Citrus,
I continued to hide like Air Force
Was only for my seniors.
Jss Two arrived with the wind called
Releave
I began to breath as an aspiring king
Now I believe the race would definitely
Finish.
Jss Three was the mighty season
Everyday had a sweet beginning
Suddenly the queen became pretty
As boys begin to fill big,
Every Sunday I was in the dining hall
To clean wasted beans,
The brown Khaki now fits my tiny skin.
Never did I forget the mighty JSCE.
Ss1, trousers became the big deal,
I was also a victim for every ss3's
Laundry,
Morning duty was almost ending,
Up keep of the latrine was attached to
Me.
Inter house games had huge meaning
These was the day to show all my special
Skills
And entice that pretty queen,
As we stroll through freedom tree
Dangling the box room's key,
My sunday wear now had this profound whitish Glimpse.
At ss2, I became a commissioned officer
I began to predict the whether,
Even during holidays, I dreamt of returning
To my headquarters,
In Jaguar I had two lockers.
In Dornier my friends sent invites for
Dinner
Alpha wasn't my regular signal,
She whipped me in basketball finals.
I measured my days and wised there
Could be an alternative taste
But JPE was the key to unlock ss3 dreams.
Been a finalist was like magic
Today I float on the atlantic
As I scream 'ONE BOY'
The hostel begins to panic
Ariku becomes my transit
I trained this special team of bandits
So I had a contraband producing factory.
The days now had wings
Time flew without traffic.
My ink recollect's like she was a five
Minutes conference meeting,
Many couldn't climb this Iroko
For sex seasons.
Today, am not only an ALUMNI
But an harden fresh corrosive lime
Ready to swim under river Nile's eye.
AFCS is high in the sky
With the flying colors that now
Leave in my life.
KEYWORDS:
Jss_ junior secondary
SS: Senior secondary
Jsce: Junior secondary certificate examination
Jpe: Joint promotion examination.
Ariku: A small town in Iwo,Ibadan,Nigeria.
Khaki: A thick brown material
AFCS: Air Force Comprehensive School.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
Seed of anthropology
Blue-print of ancient antique
Antecedence of brown skin politic
Deity to pre-colonial centralised culture
A republic with institutionally adorned grace for violence
Bodija (they are ever ready)
Awon ti ogun koleko; undefeatable and resilient in battle
Ibadan the light to many
The beauty of brown in head covering
Ibadan the birth-place of ancient civilization
The unbreakable wall of Yoruba defence
The home of warriors,
the seat of bashorun,
even the Lords of Britain knew Ibadan for it art and act of unique diplomacy.
If there ever was a city
If the brown continent was to have a Paris
If love was to have a home
My rest and comfort will be my city; IBADAN.
Our convergent joint
The rallying point
Mecca to the Pastors and Sisters
Jerusalem to the “Alhajas and Alfas”
Refuge to the weak
Shield to the strong
Nowhere on campus like our building
Life made more lively
Added life to the lifeless
Ever enliven to light up a dead soul
Restore spirit to the soulless body
Nowhere on campus like our
World Trade Centre
Goods and services are synchronized
Prizes are greatly subsidized
To augment sense of belonging to our belongings
No wonder, young and old ones throng in and out
For more copies of pieces of paper
Scrupulously they stay glued to
Modern screen for good job
Ours is the biggest edifice in Nigeria
Ours is the best in Africa
Ours is amongst the best in the world
Swimming pool completes the unparallel
Beautiful scenery that I behold every
Midnight that I lay my head on the
Cushion to cushion the tedious effect
Incurred in my sojourn on campus
Twenty four hours was for
Wisdom chicken and chips
A delicacy prepares with wisdom
Which often times leaves Couples off wisdom
As they whisper pouring out farrago of lies
Unto each others hearing
In a latter day hobo’s manner
Like a Romeo in the world of a Juliet
Savoring the dishes
Drinking all drinkable and all gulp-able
Browsing and dancing to the
Rhythm of Yahoo and “Aluta” gyration
Ours was unarguably the best
Our building clad a chamber
Where the Honourables meet
Where ideas and views are chewed
Where political and cerebral jaw jaw are cross fertilized
Where rhetoric and oratory seed are swallowed
Where we read and blessed with “8 points”
Where we digest skills to become splendid
Managers of human and material resources
Our library is incomparable in quantity and quality of materials
All these before they came
They came, they vandalized
They came, they destroyed
They came, they extorted
They came, they collected and replaced for man
Receipt of hopelessness and anguish
They came . . . killed the spirit
They came . . . gauged the soul
They came . . . stole the body
But . . .
Like the Son of Man
The spirit will rise again
Like an “Ayekoto” bird
The gauged soul will escape and fly away
Like the Biblical Zion
The stolen body will be returned
And restored for better glory.
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
August 12th 2005
4.00am
My mind distills away.
Scraps from the underworld.
Of education, tradition and media ****.
I'm tired of caring.
Sick of hearing, if I could.
Control my ears closed.
Block them from ******** talk.
Chain my eyes off the road.
The road is blind,
It twirls in murky worm fences.
I can't trust it. I don't know it's source.
I need to run from it.
The deep valleys eroded.
Brick red flooring, it's Ibadan.
Wobbling houses like sinking boats.
Like the school, the earth is.
Mixed with fire and water.
Bisexual topics, racial terms.
It hurts people, Education does.
Other opinions.
T-rays reveal ancient scripts.
Kept secret from us.
To lull in the sinking boat.
Like torpid trees.
Staring and observing.
The mystics become religion.
Which in turn, morphology of tradition.
A culture brings unity.
Under the slavery of memories heard.
To bare the burden of language.
A barrier, a paranoid ant.
To consume doubt.
Embrace the stories, devour the myths.
I journey for love on 75 miles
With admiration for your love
I walk pace the hill of 75 miles
With respect for your person
I swim through an ocean of 75 miles
With determination to be your king
I travel with butterflies on 75 miles
Only to pick you in a city of tenderness
My car tank runs dry on 75 miles
Your love fuels the engine to reach you
Morning, noon and night on the 75 miles
Your love never stops raining dew on me
I am on 75 miles from Lagos to Ibadan
To find you the queen of all women
Only at the top of “Mapo” Hill
Lies the old but tattered roofs
Of the ancient city of Ibadan
"Ajorosun" the second largest in Africa
Archaic modern city with which we measure
The political tempo and potentio-meter
Of the most populous black nation in the world
The city of those who only chew “Oro”
And converse with the mat for the dinner
The city of those who ride and rid people
Their properties with horses and impunity
Those who refuse to know “Laipo”
Stand not to know the city called Ibadan
The city of the real warriors and conquerors
Alayande Stephen. T
2nd of Novembere ,2005
12.09pm
Inside a Lagos bus on my way to Ibadan
From Lagos.The inspiration came when
The vehicle (Sango-Molete) got to Bere,
Behold I saw Ibadan and the tattered roofs.
NB-"Ajorosun" is a Yoruba word from an Ethnic group in Nigeria.It is used as
praise poetry for the Ibadan people of Nigeria.
A perfect plain in the Sub Sahara
Discerning screens, Japanese Madara
Your frame formidable despite design
Why shan't I sing aloud about your shine?
Your songs of praises serenades females
A wrecking train that never derails
Conquered jealousies try to bite your style
They lost teeth from treading your field of mines
You oppose disruptive dictatorship
A might that oppresses oppressors' grip
A real lion, the rest just copycat
Your tales get people wild like bank alerts
Your burning desire defies flame tests
But your heart I treasure here in my chest!
©2016.
Kunta.
Birth name: Olaoluwa Ola-Williams.
Note: Olaoluwa Ola-Williams is a resident of the Nnamdi Azikiwe Hall (also known as The Baluba Republic), University of Ibadan, Nigeria. Though not a pure sonnet, Kunta borrows some styles to make it seem like one. The poem is a tribute to the legendary hall of residence.
When in April 2013
Her soul fled... ignited
Like a car engine...
Still, he steered hard on her timid face
Oh passion mixed with tension
Even at a Praying Ground?
On her, he kissed with words
Making her dance and say 'cheese'
Into her soul like showers of waters
Penetrating her resilient heart
With words, rhymes and signs
As such..she scattered her Brazilian hair
At every little chance,
she, of his name, chant
Even in the belly of struggle
she lept in bubbles with jumping smiles
Wow! the - vocally endowed!
Little wonder,that feeling of 'Somehow'
Caress the walls of her pointed nipples
As she murmurs ...With a loud silence.
Painstakingly combing a breath of fresh air
In and out of her very unique nostrils
Like a helpless lamb in the altar
..Curling the angered joy of distance.
Words, rhymes, massaging rhythms
To the veins in her flowing blood
Back, front, left and right
Signalling at her swelling "Kinni"
"I will never let you go..."
The song she sang with a resounding bang
Ko-La 'wole' come in to stay, stalk me today
Into the bottomless deep of my sweating "Kinni"
Cos from 'Maba, she, in irony surrender,'
Her head, her shoulders, her feelings, her soul
Like they've long belong
To Bankole Kolawole, her funky, naughty Lover.
(NB: Maba is a place along Lagos-Ibadan Expressway, Nigeria)
"Kinni" literally means "something".
Weaker sex we’re known and termed,
We are made idle like lexis
Without structure to construct sentences.
They treat us as infants for we’re fragile;
To rear offspring we’re considered fertile
’Tis then we would be teased as agile.
Stop creating professionalism based on agile from fragile,
We’re gifted as you are and fertile;
Blessed with abundant power and charisma!
Where were you when Moremi Ajaasoro
Persisted and resisted the threats of the Ugbo raiders,
She rebelled when many men trembled?
Where were you when Efunroye Tinubu
The great Amazon of Eko land, mutinied
Against alien plans of the colonial consuls?
Where were you when Iyalode of Ibadan
Overthrew the entirety of old-Ibadan land
Whilst men of complex cablire were used as luxury?
Where were you when Idia of Benin
Led many men to war against the Igala
And returned with victory to Benin?
We’re equally up to the task,
Still we’re agile and fertile as the past,
You’re on our path please pathway!
Our journey got paused
I insisted to the passengers
Let’s sleep on our way
We got to the Ibadan garage 1.05am
Then, we move on ‘morrow morning
Dissenting voices echoed diverse views
I offered to alight at the park
Couldn’t put my life at risk
Some of my co-travelers concurred
We paused at Abuja Park of Ibadan
For its of it good to be late than be a late.
Alayande Stephen T.
2.25am
21st November, 2007
It was written at the Abuja Garage in
Iwo Road, Ibadan on my way to her in Ado-Ekiti.
As they leave
They leave with us nothing but an empty
Treasure to treasure which even Judas Iscariot
The disciple’s Treasure cannot measure
And treasure with pleasure.
As they leave,
They victimize and they seize with impunity
And dishonour students’ union leader’s certificates
Since 2000,for leading peaceful protest
Within and outside campus
As they leave,
They leave with stains of blood of 17 pensioners
And their other colleagues in their hands
While younger colleagues and students mere
Exist like living corpses
They vindictively sack staff who tell them
The naked truth and seize food from their families
As they leave,
They leave with our monetised vehicles and valuables
Monetisation another coinage for stealing people’s
Goods and properties
As they leave,
They relish and enjoy destroying people’s lives
And careers, giggling, later, dexterously smiling
And suddenly laughing hysterically like a naked
Beautifully handsome man dancing to no particular
Beat in Dugbe market
As they leave,
They leave with us fusion of confusion
Sensational exploitation and victimization
Intimidation and bastardization of the then
Glorious University of Ibadan culture and traditon
As they leave,
They leave thinking that their evil deeds will
Be buried and buried with them secretly
Alas!!…the wind has blown and the buttocks
Of the mother-hen is exposed.
Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am
And this song fell out from my father's lips:
Of boys learning to drop the corpse of their
parents' bodies on the high mountain of Jos,
Of girls who came home learning to place fingers
on the holes that evil men dug;
Of children learning to empty themselves
With lies & truths about what happened now,
about what happened in Benue and pleateu,
Of those stories that escaped through our
mother's nostrils as she became past tense.
And this wants to make you leave your body
to a place where lost is freedom to enjoy.
yesterday When teeth fell from our mouth,
We threw them to the zinc for tomorrow.
We never knew they became dancers in
a battle field, making glittering white war.
We wired our way into abstract destructions
We bottled our knowledge to the river bank.
I am not alone in this nightmare of want
When my country men became object of
ridicule, I was never among them to core.
treasure this thawn into dirge of goodness.
Help me knit this morning with a song,
trace Adkins into Wooten of silence
We archived our routes to another smothering
Snow in red places before dawn.
Help me gather the laughters of those girls
Help me tell mother that sin is not a reproach
Tell father that Satan was an angel of light
Not a mystical mysteries as told by all.
If Allah allows the vehicles of my thought
To decamp from the camp of Moses.
When you get to Lagos, don't allow a bus to
carry you pass those graveyard called bridge.
a trailer fell from one of them at Ojuelegba
and another one fell in Ibadan without the express.
There we saw a boy' tale told in
Fe-Buhari in pains & gory and eel mystery.
He carried a song on his shoulder to crying
Forgetting there on the express way has his father's last prayer points & footprints...
There he died also hoping to pick his
father's dust groaning without a comforter.
I whispered these words in secret
Tell nobody that somebody told you the body
of the storyline before the climax erupted.
Till everything becomes breeze, I am not
still a poet but a messenger of the gods.
©John Chizoba Vincent
The_Boy_Hero
Raise your voice aloud
And echo that which taints your heart
The days of the chain are laid to rest
And the closed eyes are made opened
In your order, our light is made to shine
With the scales and sword in your hands,
Our hope is laid
Not as one daily appraise in our land
But one whose purity is not
Dented for a porridge's spoon
Ibadan
Hmmm, eba odan
The edge of a meadow
Wake, I am saying wake
Your purity is tainted in silence
And your voice which is
The essence of your being is laid to rest
The scales and sword are made to bend
That your foes are glorified benefactors
Ibadan
Your worth has been known for ages
It's not surprising that
Your bravery is second to none
Haven't been a place of refuge for warriors
To know the legal practice is to dwell in you
A citadel of great intelligence
Ibadan mesi ogo
Nile oluyole
Nibiti ole ti n gbejare olohun
Alas
Cast your heart off this
As your call is core
In making the groan leap for joy
Trust your memory fails you not
That is your birth the Premier Bar & Uni,
First AG fed, first and second female SAN
Justices of the apex courts
No measures were made
Wake oh wake
The edge of a meadow
Take up your scales, sword and be blind
To that which makes us groan
As the labour of fathers cannot be in vain
Raise your voice so high and be firm
Our nation is mourning your silence