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Muktar Oyewumi Poem
Mother said, “Avoid the bilge,”
Keep your dreams clear, don’t let them delve.
No depth in anger, nor strife,
“Steer clear of paths where woes are felt.”
Do not let your heart be like a delft,
Cold and rigid, set by a protective shelf.
Live close to the warmth, shun the frosty guise,
Let no icy barriers govern your heart’s ties.
Happiness isn’t found in mere eighths,
It blooms in each breath, in small and grand states.
Life’s not a problem to be conquered or braced,
But warmth in moments cherished, unspoiled, and embraced.
When the world feels coated in a sticky glaze,
Remember, love’s the beacon to guide you through the haze.
Mother said, “In all your face, stay near warmth's embrace,
Value love and moments, not the race.”
In the warmth of a hearth, not the delft,
Dreams unfold, and joy is felt.
Mother said, “In all things you see,
Stay true to warmth, and let it be.”
Copyright © muktar oyewumi | Year Posted 2024
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Muktar Oyewumi Poem
We rise before the rooster crows,
Stumbling over socks and toes.
We squint to see, but it’s still dark,
Tripping on that garden gnome park.
The sun’s not up, but we don’t care,
We’re chasing something bright and rare.
With bedhead curls and tangled hair,
Off we go, without a prayer!
The road ahead’s a bumpy ride,
With potholes big enough to hide.
A squirrel waves as we pass by—
Even he's surprised we try.
We miss the path, we veer too far,
Take a wrong turn, end up at the bar.
But hey, who says a little fun
Can’t happen while we chase the sun?
We’re back on track, the sky turns gold,
We’re out of breath, we’re feeling old.
But laughter fills the morning air,
As we collapse into a chair.
A picnic spread, we didn’t plan,
But here we are with sandwich hands.
We’ll catch that sun some other day—
It’s kinda nice just sitting, hey?
But soon we see it on the rise,
We scramble up, wide-open eyes.
Our legs protest, they’re sore and done,
But off we go, chasing the sun.
Through fields of daisies, hills so steep,
We start to wonder, “Can’t we sleep?”
But something pulls us toward the light—
It feels like freedom, bold and bright.
The clouds roll in, a sudden change,
We’re soaked, our plans now rearranged.
With soggy shoes and hearts still spun,
We laugh and say, “Who needs the sun?”
For even in the pouring rain,
We find the joy, we ditch the pain.
The sun, it seems, just plays for fun—
And so do we, while on the run.
At last it sets, beyond our reach,
We’re out of breath, sprawled on the beach.
The chase is done, but what a day!
We didn’t need that sun, anyway.
So here we are, soaked to the bone,
Laughing, snacking, all alone.
And though we missed the golden ray,
We’ve had the best of days to play.
For chasing light’s a tricky game,
But who says we have to claim the flame?
It’s the run, the falls, the laugh-filled spree,
That makes the sun chase wild and free.
Copyright © muktar oyewumi | Year Posted 2024
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Muktar Oyewumi Poem
The attire was set ablaze,
Consumed by a mystical haze,
A moment lost in sudden daze,
All sparked by a reckless craze.
He poured his heart in investments,
Joy climbed high with increments.
But wealth, with weighty requirements,
Turned triumphs into bleak laments.
And when the errors made their rounds,
He found himself in ruin’s bounds.
Instead of wins and hopeful dreams,
His world unraveled at the seams.
He set his own attire aflame—
All he’d gathered, all his claim.
Before he even saw the shame,
The ashes whispered his own name.
He traded cauldrons for a bowl,
Chased greed, losing self-control.
Blinded by desire’s toll,
Now stripped and shattered, heart and soul.
Under the sun, his treasures burned,
From riches to rags, the tables turned.
No cloth to cover, just empty strife,
A glimpse of his once lavish life.
The fire took it all away—
Dreams that seemed too bright to fray.
He watched them crumble in dismay,
And tried to fight, but lost his way.
Now peace eludes his troubled mind,
Extinction comes, the ties unwind.
In pools of tears, he finds no rest,
For silly desires that failed the test.
The fire roared and took its prize,
Leaving him to realize
Success demands more than his eyes—
It needs the heart, the soul, the rise.
He got what he wanted, then it was clear,
Desire brings more than it may appear.
Without wisdom or patience near,
He lost what he held dear.
Regret now cools his fiery pride,
He sees his blindness magnified.
Relief? It comes in waves so thin,
Yet the sting still lingers within.
No more crocodile tears to shed,
For no one cares, the cold instead
Will bite and gnaw, his only dread.
His dares have left him hanging by a thread.
They warned him not to take the road
Of selfishness with such a load.
But careless ears turned from advice,
He chased his wants and paid the price.
Now the boomerang swings back,
The song of trouble beats its track.
Remember all the boasts and tags?
Now a weaver stands in rags.
The race is lost, the shame is here,
The path ahead is less than clear.
But maybe, tracing back his stride,
He’ll find the strength he once denied
Copyright © muktar oyewumi | Year Posted 2024
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