Songs of Anisha
“The Day,”
by Adeola Ikuomola
The day has opened her door
For petals and sepals to prevail
Even when the fields wake up dull
For powers and purity they all travail
The day has sung her hymn
To bees’ and butterflies’ delight
Even when their refrain they hum
Sadness and sorrows seek serial flight
The day has paid light price
From the Eastern Central Bank
The brilliant sky her pointed prize
For nursing the world within her tank
The day has claimed her right
From the golden throne of grace
The eloquent rhymes poets to write
The lyrical tune of wisdom theirs to trace
“Whatsapp Blues,”
by Mobolaji Olawale
On some days, our chats are sweet fruit salads.
Witty pidgin with red romantic emojis blended in.
Good English knifed tu bleed lyk water melons.
On others, her replies are too formal, too boring
Like I’m her boss at work or a twitter stalker.
‘Hello Sir’ or ‘Good morning please’
Damilola is typing…
And I don’t know which person to expect today.
A tug of war in my head
And she doesn’t even know. I click on her avatar
And I see her pursed lips
Made as if to say ‘come’, as if to say ‘go’.
There are some problems WhatsApp cannot solve.
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