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Best Poems Written by Aliagan Abdulrahman

Below are the all-time best Aliagan Abdulrahman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Life of An Orphan

I am a poor tailless cow.
The creator chases away my infesting flies.
I’m clotheless at the prime of the hamarttan
and my only blanket is my feebly tanned skin.
I’m barefoot on the pathful of thorns
and my teardrops reports my miseries to the earth.
I need love and in the midst of mates I go.
I’m trashed with the most painful looks,
and punched with the heaviest words.
My only crony thus remains my mischance.
Every right I’m denied.
And too bitter is my plea to the ears
of the unobliging heads.
My merit is always belittled,
and my promising tomorrow begrudged.
For every good I’m worth I’m sidelined—
that’s why I grow wild!
My fierce eye devoid of their leniency!
My ambition is rent into fragments—
that’s why I bust back so hard!
And in the end I’m felled,
taking my poetic justice.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Happy Birthday

FOR MA’RUFAH ODETUNDUN
Humanitarianism, humility...be your professed mien, Hajiah.
Although sceptics abound everywhere with satirical sarcasm,
Project a sanguine character, prophylaxiating stray focusedness;
Perhaps all their perspiration will drain in the sewage of oblivion.
Yours will be coveted excellence on your path to professionalism.

Banality is the bane of life vis-a-vis the hereafter.
Indeed, even you’d cast preference on the inexhaustible eternity.
Rue you shall not for sardonic conceit in your benign character
Till you reach the peak of your professional career, against all odds.
Happy birthday should not be excepted from this didactic acrostic, 
Dear, and healthiness, long life and progress—all constitute my wishes.
As you continue to lead a modest life deserving of emulation, 
You shall be elevated to desired heights till you sight your expectations.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Lost Poem

A mother that hears the cry of her baby 
does not turn deaf ears to show indifference.

A woman prepared for a culinary task, 
by all means, gathers the condiments required.

A barricadoed road, however restrictive, 
suffices not to keep an incubating hen off her eggs.

A nocturnal darkness does not stand to disorientate 
a hand to miss its way to the mouth.

Scavenging any available heaps in sight 
reflects the missing of a valuable.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

The Icon of Nigerian Politics

FOR DR. ABUBAKAR OLUSOLA SARAKI
Ilorin is bereaved again: another calamity has struck!
Ilorin has lost another pride of the community.
Saraki this time! Why has Mr. Death focused on us?
He has already extorted enough from us already
but his discontentment has prodded him
into snatching Saraki again. Ah! Extortionate!   

Our unique exponent of politics has deserted us,
leaving us bereft of confidence.
After the consecutive demise of Oniwasi Agbaye and Sulton Kamal,
I thought my pen would go to bed and rest
until the dawn of 2013, but it was not to be.

Abubakar Saraki’s departure is enough to cause me
to bestir myself again, especially when I visualize
how he lived and bested his opponents,
 leading a life that was devoid of failure and defeat.
God has a way of perfecting some like that.

After the death of Baba-l’Agege,
I believed Arabic literature and outright bravery 
had followed their commander, and that was the end of it.
But a good many brave writers surfaced afterwards,
though their skills not matching his.

After the passage of Alhaji Agba,
I thought we would never get over the expensive losses:
his matchless knowledge, adorable tolerance, effective prayers…
But many an embryonic scholar emerged,
though not the exact like of Baba.
God’s omnipotence is not subject to limitations.

I send condolence to Dr. Bukola Saraki, Sen. Gbemi Saraki,
and my brother, Laolu Saraki, including their followers and fans.
The peoples of Nigeria I sympathize with you.
And Ilorin community should not be dejected.

Saraki was a man of conspicuous looks,
a man of benign character, his benevolence
extending beyond his arms-length.
To him kindness means kindness, even to one’s enemies.
He was a man that commanded respect home and abroad.
Yet all this appealed not to desperate Mr. Death.

O’ God, Saraki’s presence was encouraging,
characterized by successful children, love and care.
Strengthen us so that his absence shall not create
a foreboding of more tragedies, but be an exit
that betokens more fortune for the bereaved.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Dear Pen

Dear Pen

I learnt you are the oldest
of creations, and you’re modest.
You’re the muse of the wisest student:
you inspire him, make him prudent.
Here I come with my mendicant hand 
to caress your multipurpose stand
so you can transmit into my blood 
diverse knowledge, in abundant flood.
Accept my proposal, grant my wish
lest I squander time or lavish English.
Your relation is what I most desire
and your company, what I admire
since I do not know where and when 
I am destined to drop you, dear Pen.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Morning Adventure

(FOR MA'ARUUFAH ODETUNDUN)
Today I was but walking on my path, full of self-confidence,

heading towards a purpose I had set from my residence.

My humble head bowed very low, I pressed forward in haste,

yet I was mindful lest I outran my chance to court a waste.

Leaving behind the sights and all that my back had brought

to face what my way’d unveil, I prepared even to be fought.

Forcefully my head was raised, for something had beckoned—

it was an irresistibly pretty figure I saw or so I had reckoned.

I gave a pause, poised to find what the distance would unfold,

little foreseeing I would enjoy defeat from what I set to behold.

The more it advanced the lesser my endurance and my strength.

I trembled: it was the first adventure facing me from this length.

I am a young soldier though, at home, in haste, I’d left my wit,

and now struck helpless by her soothing hit, I am no more fit.

Have mercy, spare me, for all my skills I have lost or unlearned,

or take a wink to look away while I address the desire I discerned.

If I am blessed to accomplish this task, I shall be more than glad;

but If I fall casualty to the defeat of the challenge, I shall be sad,

for I have never before retreated from a duet of this kind all in vain,

yet if I can use up all I have left, I shall not care to manage a gain.

Now she’s near so it’s time I waved her a stop to give my best,

since I’ve got two awesome things—this task and a school test.

To pass one and fail the other (or miss one) is going to mean a crime.

God, help me here with overwhelming words as my tongue I prime,

because I must not exhibit a repelling style or make a worse blunder

and be displeased with  my waning military spirit if we’re put asunder.

Do you understand I can’t make out why I stand under your charm,

because it always takes place the other way round without any harm?

The ethereal lures radiating from this unblemished skin equals the cost

of your doting parentage, the root you grew from that mustn’t be lost.

Now you grow, grow and grow, while skeptics marvel as you soar tall

from the root of this tree that you must garden and see it doesn’t fall.

If you can disorientate me in this manner while I forget to remember

what I’m capable of,  you deserve kudos from Januaries to Decembers.

Because of waywardness my tongue should give way to my clever pen

which is mightier than the sword and be the spokesman of wise men.

It adores the spotless teeth you flaunt as a sign of mildness and peace;

appreciates the dazzling light in your eyes that reduces one to a piece;

and promises to smear your plumb cheeks with  deserving delight

by ensuring that you beam with dimples like the stars in the night.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Life, a Paradox

This morning as I woke up,

smiling at a new day,

thinking I’m a day older,

I looked forward to another birthday,

but my mind quailed at the aftertaste

before I shared my joy

with friends and kindred:

another day had been taken away,

and my dying day advances!

 

Out of my window I looked

to find out the cause of the noise therefrom—

Mr. Somebody had bought two more cars:

one for himself; the other, his wife.

And delighted they were,

for now they had six cars altogether!

I shivered at the irony:

 their earthly stock had reduced by two!

 

After my bath,

I made for the living-room.

The sights were eye-friendly: assorted gifts!

Everyone gazed interestedly at my exclusive outfit.

‘’An angel has descended Heaven!’’ they exclaimed.

An ounce of disappointment overtook my face. 

All these lots had been withdrawn

from the deposit of my life wealth!

 

There came the merry-making,

but only I did not have fun.

‘’Are you the odd man out?’’ they asked.

But life as a paradox:

it grows every new day,

and dies every yesterday.

It is an ending game,

awaiting the stoppage time.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Time

Time is champion, undisputed—

too strong and invincible

for the world-giants combined to defeat.

 

Time is an author, an accomplished writer;

it scripts our fate and everything

that transcends our comprehension

and capability.

 

Time is weather: it changes everytime.

It is the heat that burns,

and the cold that chills.

 

Time is age,

both younger than all

and older than all.

 

Time is existence.

It ordains our lives

and schedules our deaths.

 

Time is emotion,

deciding when we laugh

and also when we cry.

 

Time is eternity: it has no end.

Time is supreme, without any superior.

Time is the phenomenon behind

all possibilities and impossibilities.

Time is the Creator, time is God.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Poacher

The mother carries about her jutting womb,
pains, torments, fatigue… her daily companions.
For nine months or thereabout no one relieves her
of the bulk, and the toil attached to it.
At labour she is—oh! It’s unbearable!
If a baby girl she gives breath to,
She raises and nurtures her to her prime.



Growing and developing all her puberty signs, 
she swing-walks with a serpentine gait.
Her shape becomes attraction; her face derives affection;
yet her smiles command attention and the bulges
control desire; instilling it deep into the heart.
Consequently, she is adjudged wanted,
and shall soon be cardio-captured.



Unbeknown to her, all this sends invitation to man
who already paints an imaginary picture of her.
He checks with his heart to ensure correspondence;
if it is positive, he innovates finesse  to employ 
in order to lure the mother away
using appreciable words,
to render her weak,
before poaching her daughter away
with promises of eternal partnership.

Details | Aliagan Abdulrahman Poem

Paternal Taste

How does it taste to have a father—
sweet, tasteless, bitter or sour?
Somebody to tell me in an hour,
before I can go any farther.

How does it taste to have a father—
joyful, ordinary, sorrowful or painful?
Let me know lest my efforts go wasteful
before I can go any farther.

How does it taste to have a father—
lovely, empty, rejected or despised?
I request an answer undisguised
before I can go any farther.

How does it taste to have a father—
warm, cool, cold or hot?
Who’ll tell me amongst the lot
before I can go any farther?

How does it taste to have a father?
Why not tell me, fate, why you came so fast
to take mine and did not let him last
before I can go any farther.