Amity’s Passion…

It is Day 2.

The second of the fairy sisters have spun her wand and out comes this jolly and feel good poem that reminds us of the cheer in the air, and the reason for the season.



It is Christmas

A season to be merry

Gifts and wrappers

Brightly lit streets

Snowless winter
Leafless trees-a-Twinkling

Puddings and crackers

Somewhere in the busy city
A soul-a-crying

Down in the cold alley
A heart is a-mourning

‘Cos it still don’t feel like Christmas without-a-loving

* give a gift of love to those who can’t repay you…
Visit  the Motherless, homeless, old people’s home… Lets share the joy of Christmas with them*


Life passes by in a blur

Days merge into another

And the rushing wind howls past

The world is on steroids

And speeds past high on weed

Leaving you dizzy and flushed

Looking on helpless

Head as light as wool

Limbs as lead

Flailing, and on a downward spiral

Towards an uncertain end

Spurred on by gravity-

Whatever goes up and stops

Accelerating must surely come down.


Jules Writes…

Finally, it is the 21st! The first of the fairy sisters of the spoken word has spun her magic wand…

And a story is birthed.

And one more thing, this is her first story… officially ‘Jules Writes’ has been launched…and to think I have the singular honor of featuring her debut story!

So sit back and enjoy “A Christmas to remember”



Merrie walked into the kitchen to get a glass of chilled juice. She walked past the mahogany dining table, picking scattered plates and cutlery as she went. She sighed deeply then smiled. Thinking about her younger siblings always brings a smile to her face.

She knew she should be firmer on them about their habits of leaving trails of strewn clothes, plates, even their school things all over the living room like toddlers but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, considering what they had been through together and so she indulges them.
It was that period again. That time of the season that makes her reflect on her past. The Christmas season has always been a time of mixed feelings for her ever since that Christmas fifteen years ago. In a cruel twist of fate, things had changed and their lives had taken a downward spiral. They had been sucked into life’s vortex and it had threatened to drown them in its depth. Just when they were about to give up, the wheels of fortune had smiled on them again.

Sometimes when she ruminates on those events, she always get the feeling that it had all happened in a dream, a very vivid one. She was in this mood as she poured herself a cup of orange juice and returned to the living room and sat on her favourite sofa, that gave her a view of the garden. She closed her eyes and allowed the events play out in her mind.

Life had been all happy and cheerful for her and her two brothers, Dan and Ben, up until that fateful Christmas day fifteen years ago. Their parents had died in a car accident when a petrol tanker had overturned on the highway and caused a fire that killed several people. She had been nine then, and Dan and Ben were six and three years old respectively. It had come as a blow, one whose effects was in ripples.
The first ripple was a sudden change of status. Her father’s family had sold their parents’ house and all their belongings and distributed it amongst themselves. They had then been carted away to live with their father’s immediate younger brother.

Things had been fine until their uncle began to have problems at work and then his business had begun to dwindle. Suddenly, he had become hostile and accused them of bringing ill luck and a curse to his household. Within three months, he thrust them out.

After much persuasion, the youngest of their father’s brother agreed to take them in. it was like going from frying pan to fire. Their uncle and his wife had been hostile from day one. They were saddled with all the chores in the house and seeing as Dan and Ben were still too small to be of much help, Merrie had been the only one saddling the responsibilities. Aside the chores, they were ill-treated- starved of food and taken to the worst of schools and even then, their fees were not paid on time and many a time, they were chased out of school for non-payment.

They were beaten severely and for even the slightest of offences. Dan had his fingers cut with the shard of a glass cup that accidentally dropped from his hands while he was washing the dishes. Things came to a head one Saturday afternoon when her younger ones had accompanied her uncle’s wife to the market, and she had been saddled with cooking lunch for her uncle. Her uncle had called her into his room and tried to sleep with her. She was no match for her uncle and he had pinned her down and was about to have his way with her when her uncle’s wife burst in and caught him hands down.

The uncle’s wife accused her of witchcraft and seducing her husband and insisted that she and her brothers be expelled from the house. It was the lowest point of her life. Having nowhere to go to, she had taken refuge in an uncompleted building.

For a year, she and her siblings had eked out a living from begging for alms and doing any menial jobs they could find. Sometimes, they helped buyers carry their goods and at other times, they washed the plates and fetched water for roadside food vendors. Merrie had had to grow up to provide for and protect her brothers. So many times, she had escaped being molested by a hair’s breath.

On a Christmas day, two years after their parents’ death, something terrible happened, that changed their lives forever.

She had been hawking ice cold sachet water and had been about to cross the road to sell to a potential customer when she heard screams from behind her. She turned and saw a black Pajero SUV barrelling towards her at top speed, and froze. The air was silent and everything ground to a halt. She looked on, as in a slow motion as the car made for her.

Then the moment was gone and she heard a screeching sound as the driver applied the brakes accompanied with the smell of burning rubber. The car stopped a fraction of an inch from where she stood. The driver rushed out of the car and to her side. She could not answer any of the questions and her skirt was wet with urine.

The man had taken her to a private hospital and the doctor said she was in shock. She was to be admitted for observation overnight. She was discharged the next day and the man had asked about her parents. She had narrated her predicament to the man who was touched and had offered her and her brothers a place to stay in his house.

That was the beginning of the good times. After efforts had been made to contact her people and had proved abortive, their benefactor, an Engineer, who had been married for seventeen years and with no children had decided then to adopt all three of them.

Their new parents, Engineer Donald and his wife Sharon had been God-sent. They were wonderful people and kind hearted. They had enrolled them into the best schools and had private tutors for them at home. Merrier had just finished her Master’s degree in Economics, Dan was presently in his final year studying Computer science and Ben was in his first year studying Accounting. Life had been good in the last thirteen years and they had almost forgotten that darkness in their past.

Except that every once in a while, she caught sight of that darkness in her brother, Dan’s eyes. He had been old enough to understand the hardship and had been hit hard. She could only pray that he would have the strength to keep that darkness at bay.

Her reverie was interrupted as the boys sauntered in. They had gone to visit with friends earlier. They had been arguing about football as usual and stopped when they saw her.

“Hey big sis” Dan greeted and winked at her. Her heart soared as she replied the smile with a wide one herself. She was so proud of them.

“I know you are thinking again” Dan said as he came over to hug her. He was the touchy feely type and was overly sensitive. “You should stop brooding” he added in a gruff voice

Merrie closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “No, I am not thinking she said as she squeezed him harder, I am just grateful” she reached out to Ben who had been watching and smiling. “Come over here and give me a hug” she cooed “or you are too old for hugs?”

Ben laughed heartily throwing his head back and then moved closer. “Never too old for a hug from you big sis”.

Merrie was happy. In a cruel twist of fate, their parents had been taken from them on Christmas day but fate was determined to right the wrong she had done and had given them new parents on another Christmas day. So, rather than Christmas being a gloomy time, it was filled with happy memories.



Yes, still blank.

The cursor beeps



Blank still?


The eyes move



Another blink

Yet another.


The screen fades

Emotions rage

It is time

For a break




Diary of a whimsical being

Dear Diary,

I am all alone, even though I am surrounded by smiling faces of seeming friends. No one really knows me or understand me. They form an opinion of me and do not bother to find out who the real me is. Beneath their smiles is a thinly veiled indifference.

I have always been alone, never really belonged. In the university, my friends too never bothered to listen to me. Well, I was always the listener and when I want to talk, they are too busy getting wrapped up in their own troubles to find time to hear about mine.

I remember during my final exams, I was so afraid and I tried to tell my best friend but he didn’t even listened. In fact, he laughed. It was true that my grades were better and that I was among the top ten in the class, but did that make me immune from being afraid? After all, success has not being willed to a particular person, and someone that did well in an exam yesterday can flunk today. Moreover, the fact that I was among the best even made the fear worse. What if I don’t perform to expectation? What if I actually failed and have a referral? How would people look at me?

It is not that I define myself by my academic prowess but you see all through my first year, I was an unknown. Nobody knew me, they all passed by me and I was living in the shadows. By the second year, when the results were compiled and I emerged one of the best, I suddenly became known. People started to recognize me and even greet me on the corridors. Ladies and high profile guys began to talk to me. So, I was afraid to fail, I never want to slink back into the shadows again.

My friend was not like me, he had always been in the limelight, and was quite popular. He didn’t understand my fears. He was too quick to dismiss them, I was a genius and I couldn’t fail. Some would argue that he had faith in me and thought highly of me but I don’t think so. I was truly afraid, my fears were real, and if he did really have faith in me, he should have taken some time- five minutes would do- to reassure me and tell me how much he believed in me. That would have made a difference. It would have meant the whole world.

I do not blame him. It just further made me realize that I was on my own. So, that day, I smiled and we continued studying. When the tension became too much, I left his house and came home. I prayed and tried to encourage myself. I asked myself what my worst fears was, it was the fear of failure. Then I asked again what would happen if I failed. I would be devastated, people will laugh at me, and some would even insinuate that all the previous results were a fluke. But then, I won’t die; I would write the exam again and I would pass. The world would not end.

That was it. I steeled myself and prepared for the worst, hoping for the best. I couldn’t sleep all night and my insides were twisted in knots. The next day, I dressed smartly and wore a smile, appearing confident and even helping a few people with their last minute revisions. The results came and I passed. It wasn’t as much as I had expected, but it didn’t matter. I still ended up in the top five.

I wonder if there is something about me that makes me feel invincible and make my friends always believe that I couldn’t fail or come to any harm. They never believe me if I tell them of some bad deeds that I had done. So, I have stopped telling them. I keep them to myself.

But oh dear diary, it gets exhausting keeping it all in. my head is full and my heart is heavy. I wish there was someone I could talk to that wouldn’t judge me or mock me or even wave my issues aside with a single dismissive hand. Where can I find someone?

At least I have you. I can come to you and pour out my mind to you. I know you will listen without interrupting my rantings, even if they are borderline incoherent and make no sense. You wouldn’t judge either. In fact, you wouldn’t even react.

That is why I can tell you that I am in love with my best friend’s wife and that we have being having an affair for the past six months and it is killing me.

Tempted to Abandon Ship!


Writers are sensitive people, and after the hard work of creating, they are often afraid of what they produce and wonder if it is good enough. Feedback from readers provide the validation they need to believe that they are good enough and the criticisms help to improve too- the healthy ones that is.
Also comments are a way of paying back the writer for the hard work that they have put into creating their art. To not comment is rather painful.
Most writers beg for comments and readership but this writer demands it and I actually admire her courage and her self worth. For bloggers we expect a relationship with our readers and that relationship is built only by the readers commenting.
I especially thank the fairy sisters, lyrical genius, bimpe, fade, inkheart, walter and all the people that have always dropped comments. For the ‘ghost’ readers, it is time to step out of the shadows! We demand your comments!!
Read and enjoy the flows of my blogger friend… and remember, comment!

Originally posted on alifediary:


abandon ship

I once read this joke on blog I visit regularly and saved it as I thought it not only funny but truly a life lesson…

attachment%2B(1) So true, right?

This post here is specially cooked and served for you, my dear, dear readers.

Something tells me we’ve done this before, hmm? But I think when we did, I was actually begging you, dear people, to come on board and be a real and life part of this blog.  That is not the case today. I am not begging. I am not even appealing. I am definitely not cajoling you. Heck no!!!

I am telling it like it is and like it will be. Gbam!!!

This is a blog, a literary blog. It therefore calls for a writer/reader relationship. I write, you read. We have clearly established that we have at least that barest…

View original 2,075 more words

Book Signing!

Book signing!

No, it is not mine.

Yes, you guessed right, it is for the “Saving Dapo” novel.

You really need to be there, it will be fun. You get to meet Seun Odukoya, the brilliant author in person and he gets to sign a copy of the book, and get him to write anything you want on the book. Amazing isn’t it?

Okay, see details on the posters below.



So, I know what you are thinking. When is mine? Oh, you just keep your fingers crossed…

Thank you! *bows*

Sisters of the spoken word

So, this idea started as a poem, one that I had hoped to find the words to write it, since I coined the term here. But then yesterday, the idea bloomed and it has metamorphosed, and I shall present it shortly. First enjoy the poem….


They are fairy sisters

Joined together by their love

Of the spoken word,

Wielding magic with their wands

Casting spells of love in the hearts that read

Amity of the alternate reality

Words that flow in a gentle rhythm

Of aliens and monsters

Love and passion

Zee, motherly and mystical

Writing in brilliant colors, warm and breezy

A windy summer day

Jules, vivacious and effervescent

Sometimes broody and waxing philosophical

A bold stroke in dark colors set against a white canvass

Yemie, the fairy goddess of words

Fiery and feisty

A maestro of words

A dynamo

Lighting the blogosphere from one end to another

Possessor of the blue pixie dust

The essence of magic.


So, I was thinking that in the spirit of the yuletide, and as an appreciation for their support to me throughout the year, I give each sister a chance to write a post on my blog. One sister per day…isn’t that fun? I can’t wait to see what they would write…I am excited already!

And No, you cannot say no to this request. So get ready… the show will air live on the Z channel from 21st to 24th December 2014.

Okay, now comments everyone….

In your arms

Hold my hands,

I am falling;

My knees are weak

I am overwhelmed;

Way in over my head.

If I say that I have a clue

As to what to do,

I lie, it wouldn’t be true;

Hold me up,

My legs give way,

I have no more strength in me;

Like a reed I sway,

To the boisterous winds of fate;

I rock to and fro

In a hazy dance to the frenzied beat

Of life’s bizarre rhythm,

Writhing and staggering, drunk on despair.

Take me home,

My steps are wobbly;

No, I can’t make it on my own;

Carry me, let my head rest on your chest

As you take me over this hilly crest

And in your inner chamber let me nest

For only under your shadow is true rest.


image: Google


The Alphabet Poem

I was reading a blog post “story of the ABC” in response to the daily challenge “Alphabet soup” and I was inspired to write a poem with the letters of the alphabets- each line will begin with a letter of the alphabet. I set out to write not having any theme and this is what I churned out.

It is not perfect, but it is a pretty good attempt. Please drop your comments, don’t spare them. If you are up to it, let your comments be written in alphabets too- each line of your comments to start with the letters of the alphabets. This should be fun!


Although I would love to

Brag about my proficiency and

Creativity, I really can’t.

Despite the accolades and the

Encomiums, I still think it

Fit to keep my head down;

Great as it might be to get

High on the praise, it is

Inimical to growth and sound

Judgment in future endeavors and pursuit of

Knowledge, which is key in

Literary circles lest I become a

Moniker, and a monument.

Nevertheless, not to acknowledge the applause

Or allow the ointment of adulation grease the chaffed

Palms is not also a pleasant thing to do.

Question is, how do I find the balance?

Relishing the delicacies while

Silencing the urge to binge, learning to

Tread cautiously along the tenuous slope that is success

Understanding that it takes only an unguarded moment and the

Vicissitudes of life like a violent storm can overturn a life’s

Work and lay waste an empire build with sweat and blood, and like a

Xoanon, an image with no power, be left to

Yearn for the days when one was alive and not a story to be told in

Zines of what could have and should have been.


So, who is the first to go? Let the fun begin….

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