Two Poems by Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale



Here is a rose for their absence

– boys chiseling God’s eyes to look like him

– boys running in circles, after their reflections

– boys cuddling their dreams on cold nights under the bridge


The radio said a boy dissolved in his mother’s eyes, following the footprints of the wind

Same path his father trod and became a lost bird

He said to risk life is to mock death

To tell her, her beauty lacks some sense

That, heroes are boys who rose from zero to infinity- they are creatures, with their creator flowing in their veins


Here is a rose for the whips they absorbed from the sun, to lock broken memories in cages

Building new ones with the bricks of silent days, solemn nights

Days spent in a border somewhere in Borno

Nights spent speaking to pictures of their loved ones, singing songs of home in sad tones


There are boys on dusty roads- walking deep into the bruises on their father’s head, and the wounds between their mother’s legs

To find the masterpiece of how the earth was before men choose to be their own G(g)od




To survive

– is to outgrow your shadows

– to skate on the surface of red skies

– to call the street; ‘a art after God’s heart’

– to break your voices into sad songs of homecoming

– to be left with questions that leaves your body in the pool of its own blood


To survive

– is to count your days with teary numbers

– to sleep on bed of stones, with the comfort of an infant

– to live in rooms with desolate images

-to cross bridges over strange waters

– to have holes in your heart only black roses can fill


A girl held her mother’s face between her legs

And watch men make her up with lustful-kit

A boy cut his skin into street with lost names

And call it his father’s house

This song is a bird with empty wings, it shuts the body into itself- it’s the chronicles of a boy, broken before he could fly, and a girl fighting wars with weapons of whore


Too many girls died on their quest to become mothers

And many boys became dusty roads on their way home

I know of women who burn without a touch of fire, to raise fatherless children

This war is filled with souls, gulping funeral songs to quench their thirst for blood, water and history

We fought too close to death, our skin began to wear its complexions- ask a boy whose throat knows only dark waters


Father said the day we become men

Is the day we know how to trace our ways through the lines on our palms

Mother said, to survive we must live in places where memories melt into ugly photographs


We left home, without its fragments in our bones

To sing these psalms, hoping we return someday with new names


This is the tales of lives on the street- it’s the recycling of a world, created by gods





Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale is a Nigerian poet and writer, who hail from Boripe local government area of osun state. He is a graduate of mathematics from Federal University Lafia, Nasarawa state. His love for art helped him to find his way through poetry and his works has featured in different anthologies, blogs and magazines. He goes by the pen name; Undiluted Poet

No Comments

Leave a Comment