Tag: Creative writing
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The Outcast ( Page 5)
Tuesday morning. Time for school. After staying at home for some days, my fees were finally paid. My siblings were lucky, theirs had been paid before those who owed fees were dismissed from school. Now, a certain picture was taking shape in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it…
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The Outcast ( Page 3)
I was finally home. Without changing my uniform, I went straight to the TV. Thankfully, my parents were out. Serving myself a steamy plate of jollof rice and a glass of chilled Zonkom, a local drink mother had made the previous day, I sat down to enjoy my meal and the nollywood thriller on Metro…
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The Outcast ( Page 2 )
Teaching usually started after 8am, right after morning assembly. And the hours before classes started, they were called “silence hour”. During this period, pupils who were present at school were numbered. The teachers on duty for the week would then storm classroom after classroom in the course of the day, fishing out late comers and…
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The Outcast ( Page 1)
“J’ai envie de t’adorer ! ” A piercing voice echoed through the chilly harmattan. “Ready, sing!” The prefect on duty conducted. Soon, a million croaking voices chanted madly. “Stop! Stop!…” One teacher interrupted, a couple of whips landing simultaneously on the backs of Tunde and Tijani who were disrupting proceedings at the morning assembly. We…
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Dilemma
The fortune-teller reshuffled the cardsI pulled out oneA bereaved sparrow on a rooftopNot a good cardI contemplated the contents for a whilebefore handing it backDropping a coin into his bowlI walked awaytoo saddened to be distractedby the sudden commotionat the market square Why invest in somethingThat will only be washed awayOver timeLike a sand castle…
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This is your land
This land belongs to all of usLet us not sit idleAnd watch savage dogsTear it apartIf our leader is an iron beastWith no emotionsWe must show himThe road to the zooWe may fly to greener pasturesBut let us rememberTo come back homeAnd build our motherlandin rubblesThanks to talented thievesin our officesWith long noses and empty…
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Bloom with cheerfulness
Funtime and sunshinePotions to help cope with daily motionsDon’t wanna look back when oldWondering, where did the days go?My wrinkled face, an attraction of gloominessLike money magnet Why let time slip byWhile you sit, doting on silly notionsSpread from head to toeThat all worries must lose teeth and holdOn your happinessBefore you can bloom with…
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One starless night
Dark melodies, playing over and over all night from a nearby cottage. Anna sat in their little farmhouse, attention fixed on Grandpa recounting dreadful tales best left untold, and hoping that evil spirits will catch a whiff of the incense mother was burning and be warded off. “For years she had no news of her…
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On the airwaves
It’s Earl Nightingale on the airwaves and his talks of strange secrets.As I listen, my mind wonder off. It’s been three years now since I left home for greener pastures. The pasture here is no greener than that of home. Damn! And I haven’t saved. Only once have I sent money home. Shame on me…
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Sip by sip
Strong facesare baked in tough ovensAnd tough feeton rough roadsYou and Ihave come from afarAnd if this strugglemust mean somethingwe’ve got to hold ontill the very endThose who have come a long waystarted out with a single stepfollowed by anotherIf you must drink this bitter cuptake it sip by sip
Diary of a Wanderer 