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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

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

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 A Teacher

O teacher, noble and kind,
You're more than a model, you're a guide.
You're not just a teacher of facts,
But one who nurtures, as life's tracks.

Though you teach them all the truth,
It's life's lesson, that you uncouth.
With kindness and love, you instil,
The wisdom of life, to fulfil.

You treat them not as mere students,
But as children, your love is dense.
You don't begrudge their future sight,
But hope they rise, to great heights.

You're a teacher true, of noble mind,
Who knows that your reward is kind.

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

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'

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His Struggling Life

From birth he grew and grew,
Growing up to a young man anew
Though was not the same
For the most he hoped in the beat eloped.

Everyone desires for the best
But much effort of man
Suffers riding the crest of the wave 
That ends in rest.

When will the joy be achieved?
When will the pain be relieved?
In the life 
That moves like a gazelle to end.

Just like the moon destined 
To chase the sun till end of time 
Same the struggle life remains difficult 
As nailing jelly to a tree.

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

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

My Students and I

“MY STUDENTS AND I”

In the cool dawn of each new day,
My heart swells with a joyful array,
As I greet the group of eager minds,
Who await, with vigour, new knowledge to find.
To lead a class with intent and care—
With listening ears and silent air,
—is the pride of a teacher true;
A gift that few are gifted to.

The modern students, with youthful brawn—
Break the teacher's heart, steeled and worn,
As they ignore the wisdom shared;
And dreams of excellence are impaired.
The teacher, with a heart of gold,
Gives all, the students to mould;
But the students, unkeen to embrace,
Leave the teacher's heart a lifeless place.

Silence!" I roared, fierce as a lion,
But as I did, a serene spirit shone,
—like a whisper of peace, calm and true,
And so, I held my voice, and my fury too.
With heart open, and words of gold,
I spoke to the restless students bold,
Seeking to reach within their souls,
—the wisdom and knowledge I wanted to unfold.

I uttered, with passion and truth—
"Face your studies, knowledge is youth,"
But the students, unmoved, replied—
"Money is the key, sir, with no lie."
In shock, I stood, as my lesson fell,
Like petals plucked from a broken bell,
And understanding then did strike,
—the source of their disinterest, now in sight.

I posed, with fervour in my voice,
A question of truth, to make them rejoice—
"Why do the wealthy seek knowledge so?
If money is all, as you all seem to know?"
Their gazes, they shifted, their minds perplexed,
As the truth I gave them, their views corrected,
And I held their attention, like a web,
—spun with words of truth, no longer led.

My voice, it soared, resounding strong—
"If knowledge you lack, you will go wrong,
For those with it will eat the fruit of your toil,
And leave you with nothing, but a bitter coil."
"Money can purchase certificates true,
But wisdom and learning, it cannot do,
And as for standard, it's knowledge's friend,
Together they stand, till the end."
My words, they did penetrate their souls,
The truth, like a light, began to unfold.