Ibadan Poems | Examples

Covid

COVID-19
On our planet suddenly appears,
A pandemic so fierce
That literally seem untameable
Holding people hostage without weapon
Restricting our gatherings to fifty
Mouthlessly closing down borders
And microscopically sapping our economy

Fuels boredom to raise its ugly head
As we no longer watch Messi’s magic
Nor see Ronaldo shake the net
Hitherto, spreading its tentacles across the global circumference
Sending fear into the spine of the brave
Just at the sound of a sneeze
A villainous viral virus

Victorious the human race has been over and over
This cannot be an exception
A Moses will be here sooner
To make the world cross over this viral red sea
And deliver its inhabitants from COVID-19 plaguing time
In all these things, we are more than conquerors.

YEMI AFOLABI, IBADAN, NIGERIA.    +2348037750808   yemiafolabi66@gmail.com

My City

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.

I B a D a N

A city on a set of hills and valleys
Rusty brown roofings a symphony
Of rhythms in colourful harmony
Ibadan a large city with a village sett.

A cauldron of the old and the new;
The
Present
And
The
Future
A fusion,
Ibadan,ilu to Dan
(The city that glitters)
A star on the West whose
Glare is on the decline.
Ibadan my beloved city
On a set of hills.
(Written on 21/06/2015

So

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.

Baluba Love

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.

Nigeria

Author: Okechukwu Iroegbu
Title: Let them hear...

Let them hear...
From the hills of Isuikwuato
My sleepy hilly land'e
From my new'est bride Uyo
To the ancient muds of Enugu
From Makurdi's Benue river beach
To those peaked crags of Jos
Let them hear...
As I dream of the undying
Lights of the Lagoon city
The snake lanes of Abuja
Cockcroachin' thru undergrounds
From the deserts of Damaturu
And the grasslands of Jalingo
Let them hear...
That I am a citizen of Owerri town
That my Calabar is very pretty
That Ibadan I adore so much
That Minna is a scenic beauty
That Kano makes much of the Suya I love so 
much
That Port Harcourt is really a city of liberty

Let them hear...
That I love you my Nigeria

Yoruba

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

75 Miles

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

Journey Paused

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.

Still Trapped

We got trapped for seven hours 
We couldn’t un-trap ourselves
From the dungeon of the road
Couldn’t call or receive calls
Was indeed incommunicado 
Sim card got stuck 
Would we ever get to our destination?

She got fed up, endlessly waiting
Luck smiled on me briefly 
As I got through to my cousin 
Who told her of my trap
My sms met hers on the way
She was still very worried
Only short of being scared

The day crawls by gradually,
Hours tickle away slowly
Behold! Darkness hovers 
As it took over the day set aside to unveil 
The faces behind the phone 
The day was over.



Alayande Stephen T.
2.01am
21st November, 2007


It was written at the Abuja Garage in 
Iwo Road, Ibadan on my way to her in Ado-Ekiti.

Women Revolt

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!

A Dance of No Tune

Twisting up my body emboldened
Hyping my spirit to Planet 9
Thrusting gently my soul to an off beat
Jerking up my feet in no fete
Throwing hands in the air

Moving my carcass to an unheard hurly-burly
Heaping up dance on my hips
Humming to a tune of no name
Shaking ones head like an Agama.

Until my Fibula was aching
I became hyper-active
For what, I queried myself?
For a dance of no tune
Indeed a Fandango only of the Spaniard. 




This time in Samonda, Ibadan.
In my quest to situate the 46 years
Independence Anniversary of Nigeria.
We are dancing to no tune in particular.

Again,They Struck

Again,
they struck with a stroke.

This time ,
of a Tony Tonero on their list.

Four stroke handed to him,
in a court of no justice.

Twostripes of cane for a struggling Struggle,
from the rulers of the campus.

Fight back's time is now,
poised for our pond of flesh.


Alayande Stephen.T
6.45am
18th,August,2006


Just yesterday,Tony told me of his rustication and that of Com Struggle
in University of Ibadan.A promise to fight back with all our blood and vigour.

Dusting Off the Kingdom

I kissed the bed bye
With a dusty blipping lip 
I couldn’t dust off with water
For dusting the dust off my body
Means to be in love with night
Cold chilling breeze in “Ibadan”.

With dust all over me
Woke up only to yawn of dust
With it still casing me all over
I sneeze and breathe of it endlessly.

Why pretending to dusting the dust?
For everywhere is full of dust.
Our road is the king of dust
We eat and drink of it . . . dust
Nose and mind of all full of dust
We live in the kingdom made off dust.

When is it of a day when the road
Will be dusted off its dust?
When it shall vamoose off our rooms
When it shall zoom off our kingdom

Its time to dust them off our kingdom
The few ruling cabals dusting hunger on us
Blinking with bleak shall our future be no more
For we shall dust off fear and dust them off  . . .

15th August 2006
12.58am.    

On my way from Ibadan, conceptualized from the perspective
Of the dust we are daily battling with in Samonda, Ibadan.

"ajorosun"

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.

• Short Ibadan Poems
• Famous Ibadan Poems
• Best Ibadan Poems
• Read Ibadan Poems
• Long Ibadan Poems
• Ibadan Quotes