THE VICTIM
I am the victim
when two elephants fight,
trampling down my happiness.
They make me bend as if in a sleep.
I am the victim
in darkness when they sleep
peacefully in air-conditioned rooms;
full of lights and comfort of security,
while I sleep under the watch of mosquitoes.
I am the victim
when laws are made for gains;
not considering my pains,
since they depend on my sweaty earnings.
I am the victim
when terrors happen.
I have nowhere to run.
I am not even known abroad.
I am the victim
of every religious hullabaloo;
for I believe God
but they’ve considered me a sheep to kill.
I am the victim
when wars and famines storm;
when floods and rivers visit my home.
They have a safe haven.
Yet, I am their refuge
when their lust, to gain my trust,
has again come
To lead, to rule, to tyrannize.
Yet, I am the hope of tomorrow
For God has made me so
Having little pleasure in the proper,
But picking the lowly and rejected.
ODE TO A SWEET MOTHER
What idol shall I compare my mother
Who made my path clearer
While I was sent from up yonder
Into this universe of chaos and wonder?
Which Theresa shall I compare thee
Whose bossom was the only place I trusted
Of all unknown hands wanting to carry me?
In your loving arms, my naive soul rested.
On her hidden hunger, I fed on.
Her nakedness tailored the fine linen I wore.
Neighbourly abuses metamorphosed into my pride in the streets
For she kept them from us!
And so, we walked like queens and kings
Amidst other children who needed such grits
With which her hidden tears over us had fixed.
Her daily worry about the family and l
Bred my own carefree living
For I knew not what the elders have seen
That made their eyes, in their sockets, sink.
What selfish nincompoop will I be
If I, in the future, make it big
But turned my back to her like letter “C” to “B”?
What mathematics would ever calculate
My insanity, if I never ruminate
Those mammoth times she took to substantiate
This present me, void of past lacunae?
Idols may burn in fire,
All things may flow away like a river,
Time will fly like the kingfisher.
My mama will live forever!
As this ode travels the world over
Men will learn of you hither and thither.
They shall pause to truly reconsider,
“Oh, just is the memory of this sweet mother.”
AUTHOR’S BIO
Ayotola Oluseye Olugbenga is currently an English Language teacher in St. David High School, Molete, Ibadan. He is a graduate of English and Literary Studies from the faculty of Education at University of Ibadan where he graduated with a First-Class Degree. He currently resides in Ibadan, Oyo State in Nigeria. He is also the coordinator of the St. David High School Press Club, raising students for the future Press.
Committed to growth and gaining relevant experiences in the literary field since his year two on campus, he is an upcoming poet having deep passion for creative expression – written poetry or spoken words, especially those that continually inspire youths and create a sense of moral perseverance and diligence in them, urging them to take life serious.
His inspiration comes from nature, music, and how captivating nature can be with its beauty, complexities and flourishing of life. His main inspiration comes from a desire to describe life and nature with vibrant imagery and dynamic musical language. He writes from a perspective of deep reflection about life, moral, truth, and particular moments of man’s intense struggle. He spends his free time reading books, writing, making dresses, and listening to music.
He longs for platforms to really grow and showcase his raw but dynamic literary talents in poetry, and art generally. He hopes to publish an anthology soon.
