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Best Poems Written by Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun

Below are the all-time best Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I Refuse To Die

I refuse to die

Life is not my slave 
Though I am always brave
Even in the torrent wave
Yet, my choice sometimes life does wave

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

I chose to love
But none was a dove
Do you remember, I put my culture above
I am a Yoruba in move
'Eyele ' ni won n pé ni 'dove'?

Sebi won leyele kìí bonile je
Ko bonile mún
Ko dojo iku onile ko yeri

Pardon my conversion
It is just to quote an assertion
As mentioned in this conversation
That Love should not be a selection
Well, I am not going to make an aversion
All I love made an accusation

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

Knife came knocking at my door
Pleading myself  I should shook
My phone rang and, alas, it was Gun
Asking earnestly that I shoot
And  Rope on me all day long
Wanting myself hang on a hook
Oh, I am too tired and poor

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

Why? Why must I my life I take?
When everyone's joy would be at stake
My dear mother her bread I bake
My darling wife her fast I break
My lovely children we game at break
Though my love someone does brake
Not my heart for once they did brake
I owe my life to them to take

So, even
When they make me feel life is an oven
I love to be with them even
I ward away from them all evils
I owe my life to them to take
Oh, I am too tired and poor
All I love made an accusation
'Eyele ni won n pé ni dove'?
Yet, my choice sometimes life does wave

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

#LEARNERSpen 9, Jumadath Thanni, 1439 (7/4/17)
I locked up some poems under the heading *poems* in my blog akewiagbaye.wordpress.com  please, do check them, interesting

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Irony

IRONY

My joy that I wasn't born a Nigerian
Is that my parents are Yorubas
I would have been limited to Naira

Mo dúpé pé mo lókó nílé (All thanks, I have a hoe)
Mo láyò pé omo alápatà sá lèmi(I rejoice, I am the butcher's offspring)

Nigerians should say alhamduliLhai
That our legislators are not as corrupt as our president
The country would have met with a great recession

E wá womo alápatà bó ti n jàsán (behold, a butcher's meal begging for a piece of meat)
Eni tó lókó nílé tó tún fowó ó kómí kiri(and a shovel merchant handpicking wastes)

Nigeria is blessed
With green pastures
And various rich liquids

Láyé Olúgbón, mo dá borùn méje(in the reign of Olugbon I owned seven different brocades)
Láyé Arèsà, mo dá borùn méfà (in the reign of Areas I owned six different brocades)

Nigerians are blessed
With great leaders
And various 'politricks'

Láyé Olósèlú mo ra àrán, mo ra sányán baba aso( in the reign of politicians, I owned linen and silk)
Ení pé ilè yìí o dùn ení kó wá bòmíràn lo(who dare thus pasture is not green should please make an exit)

The rich no longer cry
They are the beneficiaries
Of the poorman's labour

Sisésisé wà lóòrùn tó n làágùn (the labourer are dripping with sweat)
Jeséjesé wà làbétè tó n jè 'gbádùn(the beneficiaries enjoy the clubs)

Oh God of creation
Guide our leaders right
Perhaps, to spend our labour well

Bámúbámú mo yo x2(My hunger is satisfied to the fullest)
Èmi ò mò pébi n pomo enì kankan(I doubt if there is any languishing in hunger)
...

Whenever I see a Nigerian
I see along the irony of a country
Where hunger is an offspring of plenty

Nìnú òpò ará ìlú n jòwón(despite the riches, inflation is at its peak)
Nínú oyé, èése táráyé tún n sunkún oru?( and though its winter, the masses sweat is still profuse)

I hope to change the condition
I wish I could turn this irony around
And make a great change of situations

Sùgbón níbo laó ti bèèrè?(But where hence do we start?)
Tani ká kókó gbá lówó mún gan an?(who should be our first suspect?)
Sájépo lájà ni àbí eni tó báa gbà á sílè? (The looters or their abets?)

Where from should one start
Rewriting the story of this country?

Àbí e ò rórò bí? (Can you see?)
Òrò n bá rò ma ròfó, èfó n bá rò ma mún jèko (that this issue begets another)
Irony nlá leyii je, it is a big kàyééfì (this is a big kayeefi, irony nla leyii je)

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My Father Land

MY FATHER LAND

My father land
A fertile land
Of pastures and grains
Legumes and wealthy trees
Oh, my father land
Rich farmlands but
Once upon a time

Then,  the kings owned some plots
And the chiefs harvested crops
The poor tilled the soil
And living wasnt very tough 
The mighty hands owned some hoes
And the cutlasses were money based
No one ever lacked
But that is once upon a time

My father land
A fertile land
Of petroleum and gas
Some rich liquids
And wealthy airs
The kings the hoes abandoned
The poor their tools neglected
All in haste to the oily land
And the knights detest all labours
For the juicy, tasty land

Oh, my father 
Is it not you that groweth the money tree
And gushes out the very rich liquids? 
Why then do you starve so? 
What source is for this famine in Nigeria? 
The blessed yet unfortunate
Fortune smiles but Nigerians cry

' Nigeria go better '
The popular saying among the commons
'Nigerians will survive'
We sing without any hope
O, God of creation 
Forgive us our heinous deeds
Reform us, our dear Lord
And show us Your merciful eyes
O, You Merciful
Let my father land smile again

`#LEARNERSPEN 1439,

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The Peacock

The Pride That Worths The Price

Once, there lived an eagle
crowned the war commandant
strong and very energetic
enough its community to secure

Soon came an invading war
the eagle with gang and ammunition
so confident the battle to win
but unfortunate for the troupe it led
the intruder caught it all it slaves

In that community also lived a peacock
full of beauty and pride, though very allergic to arms, claimed it could rescue the enslaved team

So, off sent it the king
to go and die with its colours of pride
and without a single soldier, it left for 
the unknown, the land of its greatest enemy

Full of pride, just like a bride, with songs 
and smiles, it dances towards the 
enemies land, twisting its body, stretching its
tails, to reveal its beautiful feathers

All eyes, behold the beauty of the peacock, and 
all hearts were filled with the love of a peacock 
so, all powers fought to own the peacock,
and all riches contested for the ownership of the beauty

And soon, a duel was held, in the community, commons against commons
in their army, soldiers against soldiers
the king was maimed and the soldiers all died, including their brave and strong commander

yet, the king felt no pain at all
all he desired was the ownership of a great beauty, the greatest he has ever seen
the king so asked for the peacock to be its, but the peacock asked for a reward for that

Let the peacock rule over the kingdom, through the king that shall be done.
Let all the captives be released. And 
home went the enslaved eagle, who
was only filled with empty pride of ammunitions, power, strength and energy

Of course, the peacock remained in that community, for there they valued its worth more
and, of course, for an appreciation of its effort
I mean for releasing the captives, including the eagle, the peacock was crowned the king of all birds.

Details | Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun Poem

Be Great Again

Be Great Again

Oh, my fatherland
The envy of the West
The owner of great farmlands

The honey comb 
The sugarcane plantation
The liquid treasure

Where is your greatness?
The groundnut pyramid
Do you still harvest cocoa?

You've got just enough
Enough to make greatness again
Enough gifts and resources

Enough of slave trade
Enough of ethnicity 
Enough of religious bigotry

And of corrupt leaders too
Who fly about in costly jets
And of citizens without focus

Enough is enough
Oh, my fatherland
Enough of clueless youths

Enough of slaps in the NASS
And of fight on protocols
Enough of killings and blackouts

Oh, my fatherland
Stop being a begger
And  be great again

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Say No To Rape

Click! Click!! Click!!!

You praised me into it
When my brain was too young
I dig the soil so deep
With my bloody tongue

You forced me into it
When my limbs were too weak
I looked into the sky
And prayed it will someday leak

That price is my pride
You paid? No, you will turn pale
This hour by my honour
You will pay! Yes, with a pain

Sown in the soil
Deep down as far
As my tongue did toil
Behold, your joy is over

Because the sky's let loose
For you that always or sometimes choose
To lick from the weaker sex
By clicking the wrong button

#LEARNERSPEN DHUL QADAH,1438
@
#Poeticwednesday

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Relieved With Pains

RELIEVED WITH PAINS

Fed with hunger
Consoled with grief
Pitied with wickedness
They were relieved with pains

Freed with slavery
Pampered with child abuse
Educated with ignorance
They were relieved with pains

Married without grooms
Honoured with disgrace
And praised with blames
They were relieved with pains

They were given hopes with hopelessness
To live like ghosts
To be happy in sadness
They were relieved with pains

Where is our freedom?
Slavery isn't our home
But we are here as captives
Why this relief with pains?

They were once happy like I
Before sadness enveloped their eyes
And back they are to be like I
With pains like reliefs in the eyes

Welcome, Chibock girls
To our joyful bondage of evil angels
Where parameters for paradise is kept in hell
We are relieved here in Nigeria with pains

I celebrate you girls
#bringbackourgirls
#welcomeourgirls
#giveustheremaininggirls
#giveusourfreedomall

From all of us
@
#poeticwednesday
#LEARNERSPEN
#poetrycsoup
© LEARNERS    14th SHA'ABAN, 1438 (10/5/17)

Details | Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun Poem

Precious Gift

A PRECIOUS GIFT

If you were a prize
I couldn't have won you so
For all my skills and knowledge
Do not merit the credit

Or, let's say the price
Of a commodity so purchased
That I could foot the bill
With my own mobile credit

But a child is so priceless
Ask Aliko or Mike Adenuga
Money cannot truly get you one
Except you receive a divine gift

Welcome my precious gift
Muhsin Ayinla, Sheriff-Balogun
To your own special world
Of peace and progress by Allah's leave

All that hath shall not loss
All who want should be blessed
All these blessings will be successful

Details | Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun Poem

My Great Pen

My great Pen

    
    Even when my hands are too weak to write, my mind unrest with worries, my head a lot to carry and my shoulder some burdens to bear, my Pen refused to stop, and on it goes to a #Poetrysoup

LEARNERS’ PEN
I began like a stick
Without much to click
Until I started to think
I never knew I could be this thick
I am a pen
Not just an ordinary pen
But Learners’ I am a pen

All those eyes
As frozen as an ice
Saw my fingers so wise
Melt with such smiles
That only joy could rise
I am a pen
Not just an ordinary pen
But Learners’ l am a pen

It was going to be a war tomorrow
And everyone a sword would buy or borrow
But my ink along as I burrow
Burying it even before its birth, the sorrow
I am a pen
Not just an ordinary pen
But Learners’ I am a pen

Perhaps, you know me not
I tie the weak a strong knot
And build the great a downfall naught
The least battle I never faught
Yet, all my enemies generals are cooly caught
I am a pen
Not just an ordinary pen
But Learners’ I am a pen

Some are so poisonous
Some are so promiscuous
Some are sorrowful
Some are scornful
I am peaceful
And my ink is powerful
My moves are meaningful
And my legs are wonderful
My being grateful
Is in handful
Join me, let’s be thankful
And be joyful
Learners’ pen is ink tankful
I am a pen
Not just an ordinary pen
But Learners’ I am a pen

from: LEARNERS’ PEN, 3, Jumada al Thanni, 1438 (01/03/17) I lock up some poems under poems in akewiagbaye.wordpress.com

Details | Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun Poem

Who Dare Stops This Bleeding

Who Dare Stops This Bleeding? 

Once upon a time
I heard it time, time
From the horse's mouth
That Love is imbedded in Sacrifice

So, I started without wasting any time
Building my heart without a dyme
Every day and month
I put a stone of Sacrifice

My building was in its  prime
When I decided to have a  past time
And i saw people with different mouths
Especially about Love and Sacrifice

And, from that time
I started experiencing tough times
They forcefully shut up my mouth
Mankind refused to discuss Sacrifice

It soon turned lime
You understand, sour thyme 
Relationships last only months
Because of lost of Sacrifice

That was the last line
Of my story time
My heart is bleeding for months
Now, and no one is ready to make a Sacrifice

Wont you stop this bleeding
Perhaps with your blood dripping
To share my fate of peeping
Into a faithful Love, by sacrificing

#LEARNERSPEN  Muharam, 1439