Monthly Archives: August 2013

Judging A Book

Judging A Book

He just couldn’t wait for her to undress. He could actually hear his heart beat to the pulsing of his blood veins like thumping of a Makola mummy’s buttocks to the rhythm of her slow but sure steps. He wasn’t sure whether he should help her out of her clothes or not, well, there is no need to rush for his table has indeed been set. It was a though she was shy but the both knew she wasn’t.  What he was seeing before him would make any sex starved man forget his name and who he was. He had always been fascinated about fair ladies and boy oooh boy tonight was going to be the night…

He was feeling bored and the stress at work was not helping matters at all. The only consolation he had was that it was a Friday and he just couldn’t wait for the day to end. As the time crept like the slow motion effect in Nigerian films he let out a heavy sigh when the giant intimidating clock across his desk indicated 5:30. Just as he was about to step out his neighbor Joe had called to tell him the lights had gone out. Oooooh hooooo! Ecg paaaaaa! With nothing to go and do at home he decided to chill out at Celsbridge.

The room was dimly lit and she was the only person on the dance floor. Her dance moves were flawless it was as though she was having the deepest intimacy with the music blurring out of the speakers. He could virtually hear her groan and moan with the whipping of her hair back and forth in a sensual motion he had never seen. He took his seat at the bar and ordered for three shots of Captain’s Rum and a Red Bull and feels himself get into a trance of wanting her after his third order.  Tired of dancing alone, she makes her way towards the side of the bar where he is seated. He could feel his heart race as that of a rat ready to burst out of it burrow to escape the ‘B3la Boys’ digging. Surprisingly, she the next empty seat next to him,  orders the same drink as his and smile coyly at him. This is the opportunity he had been waiting for. He had never done anything of this sort but tonight his trap was going to catch this ‘B3la’. After introducing himself to her and offering to pay for her drinks, they get chit chatting until he finally tells her he wants her to spend the night with him. As they leave the pub and wander off to his house he giggly whispers into her ears

‘I think I’ve found my day and night. And that’s you!

The lights were still off when they get to his place. After fidgeting with the key in the door lock trying to insert the key into the key hole, the key finally found its mark and voila, the door opened. Still feeling tipsy, they clumsily caress and kiss their way to the bedroom. As they draw closer to the bed she shoves him gently unto it and giggles seductively. Then she began to dance to the melody of the night’s own music, holding him spell bound to the bed. Her silhouette looked intimidatingly beautiful as the moon whose light through the Louvre blades. It was a though he was at a shrine where the clay god had come to life to dance and seduce him and indeed it it were so, he did not want to be saved now. Maybe later.

Her smile could blind a man and cause a blind man to see. She danced her way out of her dress like sea waves set lose but the winds. Just then the lights came back on. he is a little bit taken aback by the woman he saw but well, she wasn’t that bad, then as she turned her back, he lets out a frightful scream and yells,

“ Blood of Jesus! How can you back be this dark and your front fair?”

Damn! he had even said she was indeed his night and day. Now the joke was on him.

Feeling misplaced he storms out of the room with his shirt clutched to his bosom as he gasps for air like an asthmatic patient. Then his father’s words about women hit him in the face as the tipsiness vanished like steam in the air. ‘Never Judge a book by its front cover, the back cover to is equally important.’


Posted by on August 13, 2013 in Fiction


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Memories (For DAD)

Memories (For DAD)

Today marks exactly three years ,my Dad passed away. This morning as I woke up the events of that particular day just rolled down my memory’s lane. Painful at it is, I choose to dwell on all times we shared together and the lessons I learned from him. A lot of people who knew him celebrate him as a hero but he was more than that to my siblings and I. This poem is to his honor.

The Irish say when your father dies,

You lose your umbrella against bad weather

But with the tools you equipped us with,

We have stood our ground and tilled the fields of our lives

We have cultivated joy in place of sorrow

Gratitude in place of questions

Tears have been magically changed to smile

For the rainbow of the sweet fragrance of memories clear the clouds

Of shackled pain and anguish that trapped our hearts

We think about the fleeting years, too quickly, gone for good
It seems like only yesterday

The events drip down our memories like blood form an open sore

You were our shelter when Mummy passed on,

No matter what the storms of life brought down on you,
You held the tapestry of our lives together like the waft and weft in a loom.

And instilled in us the fear of the Lord.

Papa Gee, You taught us that hard work pays off,
And so the lives you tended now overflow

Like the banks of a never drying river

Our lives are bountiful

For you taught us how to give
In your firm and steadfast way
You taught us how to live.

Three years down the lane, we are all smiles when we talk about you

And all we can do is thank God for giving us a father like you.


Posted by on August 9, 2013 in Poems


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