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Best Poems Written by Olalekan Ajayi

Below are the all-time best Olalekan Ajayi poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

At the Foot of the Unknown Soldier

At the foot of the unknown soldier
I heard them speak about the past
The generation born after the war
I heard them sing of warfare
Like children recite rhymes 
I heard their threats of war 
Even from lands abroad 
I heard them talk about 
Fighting to the last man
As though they knew 
The pain of a mother letting her son
Go to fight for the fatherland
Or the anguish of comrades 
Falling to foes in battle
And embarking on lonely journeys
Into immortal provinces
The generation born after the surrender
Speak of fanning the embers of war
And lacing the drums hung for decades
They say war is the only path to freedom
Unknown to them that 
Men fall like cattle in battle
Where rifles rattle in senseless rage
And men long to return home to 
Laugh with families and neighbours for 
The gory sight of blood and torn flesh
Is not worth the hopeless glory
The commanders seek 
It is not a tale for one’s children 
So, when I heard them say the ended war
Needed to be revived because 
One clan lays claim to perpetuity 
I knew they were oblivious that 
Those who started the war 
Were absentee members of platoons 
Whose children mounted no wagon
Destined for the warfront
Where helpless soldiers turn to dust
While the new generation yet spoke
I heard the voices of many unknown soldiers
On both sides of the fraternal war
Echo from unmarked graves on the battlefield
I heard them ask if the war was a good cause
I heard them ask if any side won the war
I heard them ask if we won freedom
I heard them ask if they were given
Heroes’ burials with the band playing
I heard them ask if those who started the war
Were now satisfied and cared for their kith
I heard them ask if they had not died in vain
And if this generation knew not the woes of war.

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Unprepared

Even when our fathers were not there
They penned the edicts on their behalf
And decreed how the people should live
So, like sheep we followed their lead
Hoping for fields of lush pasture
Full of dreams where honey drips
Noble lies told on the eve of liberation
From the strangers’ imperialism did not last
We, the people, were unprepared for 
The freedom obtained without sword
Though children waved flags with smiles
And the bards sang songs of redemption 
Deep within, we were not prepared
Unlike the neighbours whose blood was shed
In the quest to fend off manacles
We scrambled for the remnants
Left behind by the sojourners 
And never learnt how to cook the broth
The statute was blemished from the beginning 
Doling out unequal laws to the people
Ascribing to each tribe its own destiny
Though we never cease to journey 
Ours has been that of cyclical progress 
From where the stranger left us
Because we were unprepared
Though ingredients rut in the storehouse
Weary hearts roam the streets united in hunger
But their anger is not fiery enough to melt 
The adhesive that binds together 
Inheritors of the power 
We are tired of the untruths that themselves
Have reached the age of retirement
But we are unprepared to chart that path

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

The Servant Leader

In the season of the ballot
He came on his knees
Like a servant and saint
He sought to be crowned leader
He reminded us of his humble breeding
In the creeks of our land
He was our very own
And so, we chanted slogans
In the hinterland and on the highways
We had found our servant leader 
The true Man of the citizens had come
To do the will of WE THE PEOPLE
And so, we chanted from dawn to nightfall
We had found the one to bring down 
The torsos of former despots
That sting our eyes from accursed daises
Along roads they refused to tar
And so, we defied the scorch and downpour
To defend the ballots to secure his mandate
With his left hand on the Holy Book 
And the right raised to the Heavens 
He swore to lead us like none had done before
Then he entered the Palace and inhaled the air
Then he tasted the food and drank the wine
Then he sat on the sofa and laid on the bed
Then he slept and arose with roses at his feet
Then the spirit of the palace possessed him
In a short sequence our very own was altered
We who chanted on the streets and the creeks
Became brigands in his eyes and had to be quelled 
Before our eyes, the servant leader turned sovereign
The servant leader turned builder of statues
He brought down busts of former lords and planted
On pothole-riddled bridges horrid statues of himself
In every town, large and small stood a statue of him
Made of limestone, wood, bronze, marble and clay
He likened his images to that of the Redeemer 
And those of Liberty and the Sphinx
Upon all his name is engraved 
Those who dared not to worship the sovereign leader
Were sentenced to piteous fates 
What men labored for decades to build
He pulled down by decree between the sun and moon
Once a Man of the Citizens, the servant leader
Sought immortality by abolishing the ballot
To attain everlastingness, he opened the vaults
And the lords proposed that he be beatified 
Even while blood flowed in his veins
Thus, the servant-leader became a Saint among us
Now, having long abandoned the companion of his youth
He sought our wives and daughters to quench his lust
But the curses of our naked Mothers spoke for us
Alas! We hear the servant-leader pleads for mercy
But to forgive him will be counted as sin unto us
For he betrayed the trust of WE THE PEOPLE

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

I Have Known This Land

Conceived and born in the rainforest 
I have traversed the Savanna and the Mangrove
I have trudged through its Swamp 
And dwelt I have in its Woodland	
But I only bear tales of 
The Montane and the Marginal Savanna 

I have beheld its landscape 
With the Yellow trumpet spreading its wings
Like a peacock exhibiting its splendor
And taken shade under the Neem tree
While its Masquerade and Eucalyptus trees 
Shield us from the sun’s afternoon anger

I have known its two largest rivers
And its highest heights at Chappal Waddi
I have seen the rocks at Olumo, Zuma and Aso
And the beauty its coastlines once harboured 
I have danced in its rainfall and borne its desert dust 
And heard myths of plateaus in Mambila, Jos and Obudu

I have heard the drums, flutes and maracas of its sons
And seen maidens from diverse tribes and tongues
Wriggle with beads across their waists and ankles
While men swallow morsels of cassava and millet
And drown themselves in wine eked from palm 
While we feast on the flesh of sacrificial beasts

I have known this land and its riches in 
Marble, gold, sapphire, salt, oil and timber
Yet, like the stars of the skies, I am unable 
To number its armies of tired and hungry masses
Who enthrone kings but must paupers remain
Because their forebears swore to oaths of servitude


I have seen this land wrestle with destiny
And chiefs of the tribes growl like crabs
Proclaiming that the different marks on our faces
And symbols of our creed make us fish and bird
I have seen patriots metamorphose into traitors
And builders of monuments hold the garments  
Of those that brazenly rape the old woman

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Our Native Land

When this plague passes over
And we emerge from our arks
Let not the euphoria of seeing
The rainbow in the horizon again
Becloud our vision or deafen our ears
To the sound of heavy chariots from 
The end of the spectral
From whence travel a people 
In the direction of the sun rise 
With boundless treasure 
In search of new lands to sow 
Crop and human seeds
Let us not stray far away
For these wanderers seek titles
They will come first as farmers
To buy our crops
Yet will not allow us a square metre
On their own soil
Their prisoners will dare to do
What our envoys dread to do in their land
They will pay bride prices 
To become one with us
Nomads will seek to become chieftains
And will drink with primogeniture
Till they enter chambers of princesses
In the name of wedlock
And become lords of vast fertile lands
Which natives boast not of
We crave for civilization but
God forbids us allowing princes sell lands
Where dwell the bones of our ancestors
We shall welcome strangers but 
Will not share our beloved land 
With vile visitors
Lest when midnight comes, 
There shall be no shelter

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Waiting For the Plague To Pass

I know not when we shall shake hands again
Or hold in warm embrace for the sheer joy 
Of each sunrise and moonlight
For the plague and news of frightful deaths
In faraway lands 
Have erected monuments of fear in our hearts
This scourge knows not the old or one with gold
It has made unsure the prophesies of seers
Who did not foretell its emergence from the East
Though bearers of the Rod of Asclepius have 
Responded with their art 
Each day is made uncertain 
With sirens announcing the next patient for isolation
And the morticians awaiting the next carcass
Of the mighty and the lowly levelled by the plague
The king’s men and town criers have told of 
The enormous chains at city gates 
They have forbidden us to act as free men
But a woeful lot propelled by raw ignorance 
Have defied the king’s edict and 
Like stray goats tempting a rustler 
They dare the plague to come nigh
Our store houses have grown lean
And Like a century ago 
None from this can flee except 
God shows mercy

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Unbelieving Believers

Heavy with thoughts that abort sleep
My mind goes on a pilgrimage to the sky
The view from above makes heaven cry
The earth is plagued with despotic souls
And altars of different creeds are soaked
With the blood of innocent worshippers 
Spilled in mortal conflict in defence of God
Their ancestors did not serve and who
They have no knowledge of 
But claim monopoly over 
So, they seek to invoke lightening and 
Draw rain of misfortune upon all 
Who will not beseech Divinity as they do
Or believe their half-borrowed beliefs
That deify robed beings on the rostrum
And abhor supplication made in solitude
And broadcast water offered the thirsty
Or rags put on the backs of the destitute
In concealing their sumptuous abstinence
Their faces resemble those of mourners
They profess compassion but will drive
Seared iron through penitent reprobates 
Declaring them undeserving of mercy
Intoxicated in pious conceit
They seek to cause pain because 
They possess the power to hurt
I too have read from the books they wield 
The letters do not preach hate for neighbour

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Bliss and Abyss

When I consider this tug-of-war that lingers 
And for which neither camp will forsake 
Even for the sake of avowed earthly love
I see disinterred before my weary eyes
The folly of the wise and bravery of the coward
Where bliss and abyss eternally duel 
Where in some cases adoration at first sight
Turns into fight at the slightest provocation
And love and hate choke each other’s throats
I see men cringe at being called equals
And women go to war to be called equals 
Both recruit ignorant foot soldiers 
In vain pursuit of ephemeral vanities 
Ignorant that these mortal titles will mean nothing
When and where souls enter retirement
They hurl words as hard as stones
For a cause more passionate than religion 
And a tradition foreign to their ancestors 
Pride-sink souls fuel arguments that foul the air 
Unable to find the compass to each other’s minds
The woman asserts that the man is a mean despot 
Her soul despises him and his voice makes her spew
And he claims she is the tyrannical weaker sex 
Glances of fury and murmurs shoot darts at him 
And a ten-fold anger burns in his heart for her
Both are the objects of each other’s scorn
For which they engage heavy artillery to tarnish
She uses her garden and mouth as weapons
And he, the unknown mistress to fan 
The embers of her jealousy 
She mobilises hosts of female trumpeters
Waving banners of hate
He gathers a legion of male drummers
Seeking to proclaim the woman’s 
Contempt for the Holy books
The man sees, as Divine, his right to be head
The woman her undeniable right to be heard
At the height of passionate ignorant arguments 
Where there is no balm to calm frayed nerves
None of these hearts can vow to purity of purpose
Yet, alone at night, far away from opposing camps
That fuel this vicious and dubious battle 
There rest the exhausted stoic woman and enduring man
Seeking fraternity of the loins before dawn breaks 
When they return to the folly of contention
The next generation shall validate what I write:
When foolishness from all eyes evaporate
The mortal warriors from both cliques will realise what
Has been there since Eden that
Spirits and souls have no sexes

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Conversation With Myself

I abhor the night 
For sleep has sworn enmity with my lids
Lethal questions plague my peace
And my heart shows me no pity
In finding rest for my head
Try, try and try I try
But the questions gush like 
A burst public pipe
What if the sun were to rise from the West
Or trees were to grow from the sky?
What if I were not my progenitor's seed
Or I was conceived in slavery?
What if these scions of mine
Came off the loins of another? 
What if I have vehemently sermonized 
Against those I was anointed to preach to?
What if I have plucked at a time, I was to plant
Or spared that which I was to burn?
What if I have chosen horde of words
Over stillness amid vexation?
What if I have diligently removed ancient landmarks
When I ought to preserve the milestones?
What if my kinfolks were to kill another unjustly
Will I, as judge, pronounce the guilty verdict?
What if he I call my brother is the staunch adversary
And the perceived foe is the blood-friend? 
What if I were to be made king
Will I lose the touch of the commoner
And vanquish those that will not bow before me?
What if I were to be at war with another
Will I kill a starving enemy or wet his tongue?
I perceive I may never know until it confronts me.

Details | Olalekan Ajayi Poem

Unmindful Man

You may think countless ticking of the clock’s hands
And eras of rainy seasons have erased the sore past
And that her silence has acquitted you of your guilt
And your gang of morbid villains is now anonymous 
And the soiled pages of her story are now burnt
And a silent victim she must remain or be shamed

Although the downpour drowned the maiden’s voice 
As you, a kinsman, blindfolded her in the open field
and led others to deep their hands in blameless blood
The stars bore silent witness to your iniquity as you
Forced open the gates to her pride on the wet grass
Your legion of lewd spirits believed this story would 
Never be told, but she saw through the fold

The years between the deed and now remain fresh
Fresh as the field where your band of wild beasts
Ambushed a bland maiden clad in amorphous  apparel 
Unbetroth, she implored that you show mercy
But you defied her unconsenting innocent cries 
With forceful thrusts fueled by youthful lust 

Now you dare to approach the very one you violated
To be a concubine because you think she has no soul
And no remembrance of the vicious stain of her purity
Your words are unable to conceal the lust in your eyes
She has a voice and will speak for herself...

Though wounded by your accursed members, I survived 
My womb denied your ejaculated seed soil to germinate 
And I stopped being a sufferer once the garden healed
But like seed sown in fertile ground, my story has ripened
My courage has grown and my voice has come of age 
I shall be silent no longer and will not remain invisible
I demand to also hear the confession of your transgression
I dare you to deny forcefully taking what I did not give
Even if the statue of justice allows herself to be unmasked 
And the people doubt my story because you dine with the king 
My unrevoked curse will accompany you beneath the earth