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Poetry

Mediator [a poem]

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woman in black and white shirt looking at the sea

Now that I think about it, it all feels like a series strategically stacked in a stipulated sequence.

The days of my childhood vivid in my head, the memories of me walking down the streets in all confidence, troubling my fellow kids anyhow with the hope of running to my dad for help incase I got attacked.

Then I became much older only to realize, there was something called “laws of the land”, and the consequences of violating them.

Again I walked by freely, acting as I pleased, flinging the fear for jail, the memory of my chief justice Uncle in my head.

Then I hit adulthood and it dawned on me, my Lawyer Uncle can’t save me from every case. I needed a more dependable figure.

Then I got introduced to someone called Christ, one who stands for me and on my behalf, pleading my case even without my asking Him.

The realization was deep. How happy I was at the discovery. I had a mediator, a completely dependable one and I didn’t even know it!

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5 Comments

5 Comments

  1. Daphny Aqua

    July 13, 2021 at 9:10 am

    Its so beautifully written. Loved it 👍 There’s no one we can depend on than Christ and His love for is unconditional ❤️

    • Dera

      July 13, 2021 at 2:01 pm

      Exactly!
      Thanks for reading through ❣️

  2. Daphny Aqua

    July 13, 2021 at 2:29 pm

    It was a pleasure reading ❤️

  3. ViKtorsobe

    July 14, 2021 at 6:16 pm

    I so love this piece. So properly crafted.

    • Dera

      July 14, 2021 at 10:23 pm

      Thank you dear.
      Your support is truly appreciated!

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Guest post

Black Child [a poem]

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By Akuoma Ezeaku/ Featured contributor

Black child!
Sloppy valleys, rocky mountains
Lush bushlands, flowing fountains
Here animals find their home
So diverse, yet mix and roam
The sun towers above them all
Sending rays to the big and small
The benevolence of the Creator
To the black continent
For the black child

Thou, a goddess of melanin
Your wooly, kinky hair fits in
To the perfect embodiment
Of zeal! power! and such great strength
So why?
This feeling?
Of inferiority?
Why trade your gold and become a nonetity

Dream!
Whatever it may be
You can reach the highest hill
Can’t you see?
Grow beyond your need
And take all the lead
Dear black child, your dreams are valid.

Author: Akuoma Ezeaku is a Christian, a final year Medical student and an embodiment of poetic prowess. This is her first publication.

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Guest post

A dim but a hope [a poem]

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By Victor S. Ugwu /Featured contributor

This is the time to be young.
Yes,this time to be strong.
For this time is long.
How unsung and to the end swung.
But what is wrong?


Hope for the young is the song he sung.
Loud it was like a gong.
It was sung by tongue.
Like his dreams will sunk.
Ideas so big for hung.
His dreams now slung.
They always ask what do you bring?
Also said he is not among.
But his lung just says I am strong.
And his dreams they wrung cannot dung.

It is sad, the country is bad.
His card in the game is hard.
Even the ads they show is hard.
The guards, yes, the body guard, is loosegaurd.
In a state where our guide is bad.
He is glad, he is still a lad.
Though will pad but not mad.
Will pass by Chad and use a brad.
He will not be a cad nor only pad.
He not only will fad but be clad.
To his dad, he is an acad and a grad.
So God forbad that he is a lost brand.

Then he use the cleche “WE MOVE”.
It’s not easy but he grooves.
He is a youth and must improve.
The hope they remove he disapprove.
Needless to say they abuse.
His dreams they put under the hooves.
Behoove youve got to improve.
If only they reprove than disprove.
He is young and of a truth “WE MOVE”.

Author Bio

Victor S. Ugwu is a medical Doctor by profession, and an ardent lover of knowledge. He has written some clips in the past but this is his first publication.

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Poetry

Grateful heart [a poem]

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woman surrounded by sunflowers raising hand

Strolling down the street of scrutiny
I could barely breathe,
Choking sensations crawling down my throat.

The thoughts of the events of the past
The thoughts of the likely events of the future

The thoughts of the results I desire,
The thoughts of how dwindling it’s becoming

The continuous prove that I have little or no control,
The continuously diminishing self confidence.

The gloomy face I wear
as I give up,
Knowing my strength has failed me.

Then the day comes,
The moment we have been waiting for.

We gather with fear and trembling,
Expecting the worst.

Then came the shock
The news of our success
The prove that the Lord has helped us

I starred at the result
Not sure how to react,
Mixed feelings everywhere

Joyful noises
Screams
Tears of joy
Overflowing like a river bank.

One thing became clear
It’s not of him than willeth
Nor of him that runneth
But of the lord that showeth mercy!

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