As though it was born free only to eat,
The soft caterpillar keeps on its work--
Just to turn and finish the leaves neat;
And on it goes unchanging,all in the lurk
Till begins the self centred walling in plot;
A soft, round globule comes up wrought
Only to be boiled and disrupted to fraught
The potter wasp has flights great many,
To the clay and water pits far and near
As is chosen the safe nook or slot puny
With all vigour, labour and concern dear,
The little bit sticks to the select spot fast,
That the set purpose resolves till the last,
And greed does not breed a monster ghast
an aching
silence abides
young love
b
e
c
k o n
i n g b a c k
once tenderness starved,
t
u
s s l e s t o
s
s
e
d
into
love’s brutal
apex
warping sting,
in bated
breath’s requited ring,
wished upon the same star
in
each other’s resolves
You...are more than everything and anything,
An actress that is perfect for any scene.
You...are the reason my heart beats like a "gbedu"
A love, stronger than the nupe voodoo;
"Anipe..." You...are the rays of the sun bright and shiny
A mighty queen that make others look tiny.
You...are the reason the earth revolves,
The reason that my all my problem resolves;
"Orekelewa, " You ...are the edges of my sharpened dagger
That has slain those who dared to touch our ladder.
A prayer warrior that evokes fire to quench them all,
You ....are the reason "Alayinde" is standing tall;
You...are the best amongst the rest,
I wear your love around like an armoured vest.
Niggyraslife 2026
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I found your silence first—not the hush
of snowfall or stopped clocks, but the raw
unraveling of a symphony mid-note,
the bow still hovering above the strings.
What composes you? Not the obvious:
not the freckles like tossed pennies,
not the laugh that cracks like thin ice.
Deeper—the way your shadow hesitates
at doorways, as if it remembers
a threshold it once couldn’t cross.
Your hands are not just hands:
they are the aftermath of holding on,
the creases where light lingers
like a rumor in an empty room.
I trace them, learning the braille
of all you’ve clenched and released.
Sometimes, I catch you staring
at the spaces between things~
the pause before a downpour,
the breath a mirror steals
when it forgets your face.
You are the almost, the not quite,
the symphony that never resolves.
And yet~
when you turn to me, unfinished,
I swear I hear the music
begin again, and I fall
in love with you
all over again.
I found your silence first—not the hush
of snowfall or stopped clocks, but the raw
unraveling of a symphony mid-note,
the bow still hovering above the strings.
What composes you? Not the obvious:
not the freckles like tossed pennies,
not the laugh that cracks like thin ice.
Deeper—the way your shadow hesitates
at doorways, as if it remembers
a threshold it once couldn’t cross.
Your hands are not just hands:
they are the aftermath of holding on,
the creases where light lingers
like a rumor in an empty room.
I trace them, learning the braille
of all you’ve clenched and released.
Sometimes, I catch you staring
at the spaces between things~
the pause before a downpour,
the breath a mirror steals
when it forgets your face.
You are the almost, the not quite,
the symphony that never resolves.
And yet~
when you turn to me, unfinished,
I swear I hear the music
begin again, and I fall
in love with you
all over again.
He said, it’s futile fighting raging fires
With weak resolves that may tend to stoke it,
I’d much rather go with my heart’s desires,
So spare for future your wisdom’s tool kit
And loosen up to enjoy passion's heat,
Bask in desires’ warm glow, never retreat.
Beware, warm passion often heat acquires,
She posed, to know it is what this life is.
Why? Enough to know fair from foul desires--
The fair ones feel much like a pleasant breeze,
Whilst raging fires are whirlwinds, far from joy.
Fair, fanciful, desires are leads of life,
Let’s be a child engrossed in her new toy,
Yea, toys each to each be husband and wife.
_______________________________
Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) | 06.04.2005 |desire, fire, life
Note: Here is a dialogue between two newly married. It begins with philosophy, but as the moments warm up in passion, they tend to forget all arguments to come close to agreement. A conjugal bed is a great leveller where all differences tend to even out.
the thought that we are separate
is simply what’s called the ego
pursuing its own well-being
attachments afraid to let go
this false identity serves us
to navigate this harsh terrain
but somewhere the soul’s script is lost
and then life is felt as a strain
there then are two of us in here
one the ego, other the soul
love is the pulse that determines
what path we should take to feel whole
karma, law of cause and effect
arises from ego’s craving
whilst if we but choose to be still
soul’s free from desires enslaving
love alone resolves all conflicts
so it’s really up to us
to succumb to lust or to rise
by getting aboard God’s bliss bus
when ego acts karma rebounds
as fate birthed by seeds we did sow
being but our brothers calling
to repay debts of love we owe
“Let silence teach”, the master said
“that soul may be by God’s hand fed,
whence graced by His touch, we ascend,
on choosing to be by love led.”
Inertia cajoles us to blend
with the crowd that we may defend,
attachments to which our heart clings,
though all that begins will soon end.
Time holds its breath when our heart sings
and it is in these little things,
moments when our ego dissolves,
from our very core, soul’s light springs.
When head to heart power devolves,
the scent of love conflicts resolves,
whence thus doing nothing at all,
our true Self as God’s spark evolves.
When we see, we know and recall,
our luminous Self standing tall
and breathless beholding this sight,
we’re blown away in a bliss squall.
Wonderstruck beholding God’s light,
the flame that banishes the night,
we are at peace, feeling complete,
heart dancing with unbound delight.
My resolves, like ivy vines, coalesce around.
My caverns of thoughts constantly open and close.
Amidst scorns, I hear a spitefully silent sound.
Absurdity whirlpools as though decoded morose
Courage, like a well-built rampart, guards me, I know.
Confidence overflows from the jar of my heart.
Why, yet, does darkness of despair engulf my hut?
Why do breezes end and storms violently blow?
Though reason, like passion, plays a parallel part
Why do doors of my homecoming seem to be shut?
Son of a gun narcissistic
With a personality pessimistic
Everything resolves around you
Victor or victim that you bruise
When you look in silver mirror
You can’t see because you fear me
My natural beauty that you deface
Graceful in defeat as you beat me again
And yet somehow I still WIN
I let you walk in my trap
Recorded it all and sent it zap
To the authorities for proof
No more abuse wear your cell
Meant for my mind on yours
I’m forgiving me for loving YOU
Parting ways is so sugary
I have reasons to enjoy life
No longer fearing empowered
I am a black flower blooming
“I traversed the path from blind faith to wisdom ~
Recognising within me lies God’s kingdom”
~ quote by poet
When I was a child, I was told God exists
but growing up, seeing chaos in the world,
I debated this concept in foggy mists,
deluded no more, when flag of love unfurled,
the elixir that resolves every conflict,
with fragrance oozing from rose petals, hand picked,
consciousness engulfing the sun and the moon,
ushering music of spheres, that makes heart swoon.
sensing strange stirrings of angst buildup
casting an ominous shadow of gloom
we pause the cause of contraction
that rapture within may zoom
awareness thus self-aware
resolves conflicts in the heart
the core of our being always free
causes bliss ignition within to start
What better way is there
To express the feeling
Than with the words,
Agonizing, awful words,
That infest one’s thoughts
When the feeling arises?
“Why am I never taken seriously?”
“Why did I ever think I could do it?”
“How could I have let this happen?”
“This is why they don’t want me around.”
“I’m such an idiot.”
“I’m such a living joke.”
No one particular incident causes this,
No specific error consistently floods the brain
With the inky blackness of despair,
For even the simplest mistakes
Send one plunging into the abyss.
And all too often, it happens that
The only solution one resolves upon
Is to retire in bleak isolation
With the dim, loosely founded hope
That you will forget about it soon enough.
Why did god keep us at earth just to take hs away?
Why allow us to live if for long we can't stay?
What's the meaning of this magical night and joyful day?
Does it symbolize our lives or just god s another play?
How do we evolve? What's the purpose of life?
What do we fear at the darkest time at night?
Why does this evolution become devil in disguise?
Why did it made us so cruel by giving us a paradise?
Whose words were these "hardwork is success "?
What did we do to deserve this stress?
Is this the consequence of how we left nature at mess?
Is god punishing us for our misdeeds in the form of protest?
Why do mankind become curious at every step?
How can we find the resolves of questions we have kept?
How can we deal with sadness? Or learn to accept?
Drowing in the sea of questions, how can we escape?
What sorts a box -- an enigma,
of course, what else has sauce,
when it apprised of a stigma
it eyes wherefrom the source.
Taste, touch, ... senses play the fiddle
minus some chords, off-tunes,
wayward announces a riddle,
classic ... playing the blues.
Discombobulation, a word
that creates attention,
it's a doer, that is absurd,
a giver of mention,
need not be lengthy, quite disturbed,
more elementary,
there lies the mix, that's somewhat blurred,
most complimentary.
Shorten won't baffle, nor ruffle,
may muddle or addle,
there are trickery, kerfuffle --
but snooze in a cradle,
grounds content, shovel the gravel,
make it your battleground,
make confound this awkward puzzle
by day's end be profound.
Hope that it resolves this fluster,
that sets unease, evolves,
make it a game, a tongue twister,
keep watch till it dissolves,
It'll be a throwback, bewilder
if it grows, we'll keep track,
discombobulation, blister,
made it less from perplex.
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