The day I met an hijab-clad Rukkayat
I realized that even inside bread
Akara can do shakara.
She was like okpa, wrapped in leaves.
When I saw her soft skin and loft lips,
my eyes developed taste buds
and I savored her sweet beauty
In longings and cravings,
I liquefied my love into fura d’nono
poured my proposal in a calabash,
but to me, she said “No. No.”
Have you seen a bottle of sprite,
spitting out its content into a glass?
So it was with Enobong’s eyes-
laced with endearing sparkles,
flying out from her soul in bubbles.
To her, I sent my love in shells of periwinkles
Hoping to have her till life litters her face with wrinkles
But she blushed like a stew on the cheeks of ewedu
and politely told me, “I am taken”
Showing me her ringed finger
like sausage stuck in onion rings
Not many days after;
Lone, and in search for laughter
I went to watch gbegirig dance
her way out of naked ewah,
It was there that I met Adesewa
Whatever made me think she’d give
me a chance, is what makes anyone think
a stone can cook with several liters of patience.
Her beauty was like the illumine of onion bulbs
Her eyes, stood out conspicuously
like towers of meat in a bowl of soup
In her mouth, I poured chilled Viju
whilst tickling her ears with sweet fuji
but like burnt wick slumps into a stove
with a booooom sound, she turned me down.
I hear that a mouth that eats ewedu
and knows not how to say ‘kedu’
has slim chances with Adaobi
So tell me, tell me, my friends,
How do I woo Adaobi?
Is it with countless platters of hot Nkwobim
exuding the steam of desire
served in the presence of the moon;
or bowls of savory sauces and spicy soups,
to which the Achi of flatteries have been added?
In how many plates of isi ewuo
should I bleat my feelings?
One? two? How many?
Tell me how to speak words
That taste like sweet palm wine!
Tell me how to prove to her that
I can guard her like dodo
secures a heap of vulnerable rice grains
Please, before she passes by,
tell me how to woo and win Ada,
for I’m tired out from trekking rejection’s lane
Shitta Faruq Ademola's #poem, "Sacrilege", narrates the girlchild's plight with such sharp imagery. He takes a few steps in the shoe fate gifts #women and shares the feel. Enjoy the #read: https://eboquills.com/2020/07/11/sacrilege-by-shitta-faruq-ademola/ #WillSmith #LagosIsland
We took out time to make a list of #literary platforms, #competitions, #writing fellowships, and #contests open for #submissions in the month of #July 2020. You have our best wishes! https://eboquills.com/2020/07/03/contest-open-for-submissions-for-the-month-of-july-2020/
Our team of #editors, eagerly await you to answer the phone or #write back via emails to begin working with you on whatever #writing project you are on. Don't be that #writer who underestimates the power of a 3rd eye. https://eboquills.com/2020/07/01/editors/?shared_counts_refresh=1