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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
They stood on highly placed podiums
In densely packed stadiums
Making promises, unwitting and false
And now we wait as time slowly crawls
Now we see
The so called promise of a fatherland
Smeared with cruelty and blood stained sand
Treachery and fear of the dreaded boko haram
Bringing tragedy, pandemonium and widespread alarm
Tainting a religion of peace. Noble Islam
Fanaticism some say; but terror is their way
Now we hear
The blood curdling screams
As we awaken from terror filled dreams
Outcries of electoral rigging
From supressed political teams
Woeful tales in news broadcast
And we wonder, how long these will last
But now we know better
Than to hear their sugar coated words
Or to see their finely painted worlds
Yes; now we know better
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2012
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
I still see your striking face
When I lay my head to rest
I long for those perfect days
I slumbered lying on your chest.
I still know the stirring words
To the sonnets and dreamy odes
You patiently read to me
As I gladly sat on your knee.
I still mourn those long nights
Needlessly spent on silly fights
Clashing rage fortified swords
Exchanging heated words.
I still wonder what might have been
If fate hadn't been as mean
As to tear our souls apart
And to break our fragile hearts.
I still see the hurt in your eyes
As we silently said our goodbyes
When we knew our end was imminent
That we had to treasure each moment.
I still curse the day you left
The day you darkened my bright days
The day you eternally slept
The day Cancer took you away.
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2012
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
I feel poetry in me,
Inspiration in all i see.
In every breath i take,
the whispered prayers i make.
In every exalted praise
and the hope for blessed days.
In a child’s wide eyed innocence
that in man, has long since died.
In the comfort of a mother’s presence
and the glow of a father’s pride.
In the uplifted right hand
and in all their pledged lies.
In the betrayal of our motherland
and our woeful unheard cries.
In the blissfulness of joy
and the tears of painful sorrow.
In the living of today
and the mysterious tomorrow.
In the beauty of the author’s words,
the vibrancy of the painter’s worlds
In the voices of those that sing
and the fact that art is king.
Poetry, i feel within,
Inspiration, I see, in everything.
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2015
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
It was amazing,
Words came gushing from his head,
Clamouring for the paper instead.
It was captivating,
Lots of words played to form a rhyme,
And on paper, they stood the test of time.
It was enchanting,
With his words, I felt the sun's glow,
With his words, I saw pure waters flow.
It was overpowering,
His words made me see stars,
And cured my hidden scars.
It was astonishing,
In his words, I saw his past, his present,
And what to him, the future meant.
It was perfect,
In his words, I saw elegance, saw charm,
And I knew, I held dynamite in my palm.
And it's true,
That though, there's power in the sword of a samurai,
There's more in the words of a writer.
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2011
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
I don't know why I love you
Or why I really care,
I don't know why I miss you,
Or why I want you here.
I don't know why I think of you,
Every second of every day,
Or why, when you want to leave,
All I want to say is stay.
I don't know why I toss and turn,
When I go to sleep,
Or why, when you smile at me,
My heart takes a huge leap.
I don't know why I love you,
I just know that I do,
And, though, I don't know how you feel,
Hope you love me too.
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2011
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
She wore a pitch black suit
And smelled of lilacs and fruit.
Clad in long stemmed heels,
Her cream coloured blouse so sheer,
She spoke of stocks and bills,
A fancy phone pressed to her ear.
But the road on which she walked
Had a very tiny bump.
If only she had known to jump,
She wouldn't have tripped and slipped
And become a laughing stock.
But she was on the phone,
How could she have known?
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2012
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
I see a little girl
Amidst brown sands,
With joy and laughter
And tiny, dirty hands.
I envy that girl,
Innocent and pure.
Adorned in a pretty dress
And a smile so demure.
I wish, like her, i could
Run round red roses
And play ever so merrily,
With tiny water hoses.
I see, as she dreams,
And listen as she sighs,
As she watches fairy tales
With large hazel eyes.
I see radiating beauty,
In that little girl i see
Where all is just right,
In a world i wish for me.
I long for her world,
Without anguish and pain,
Without doubt or fears.
A world that is simple and plain.
I see a little girl,
A girl i long to be,
A girl i wish you would see,
A girl that long was me.
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2011
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
"Just friends, Just friends", I whisper
"Enough, Enough", I say.
Surely, Slowly
This overwhelming need for more
Will go away.
One day
This undying hope for you will find its way.
"Just friends, Just friends", I say.
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2018
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
I'm so tired
Of this feeling of hope
Of wondering how I can cope
If I don't talk to you today
As I did yesterday
Of this uncertainty
This insanity
Of wanting more
Of wanting you
And hoping you want me too
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2018
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Hassana Shuaibu Poem
Letting go is an art
It is drawing fine lines
around your heart
and between you two,
though you clearly do not want to.
It is seeing the beauty
in being without
who you clearly care about
Copyright © Hassana Shuaibu | Year Posted 2018
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