Random (ryhimg with -ight)

You held my hands for too long

And too tight

You fed my eyes with lies 

And then I lost sight

Of everything I was meant to be

– I was meant to be the light

For others to see – their guide

But you conquered me with your might

Ensnared me with your beauty

Like the little unsuspecting ants, you bite

You held on to me 

Like a restless child at night 

Wouldn’t let go of me 

And to you, this was alright 

Stressing me out and in. every way

But now you see – I’m ready to fight 

For my freedom and my life

In my victory, I will delight!

And as for you,

You will be far far away from me. I, the earth and you a silly little kite. 



Life – the longest poem


Did you know that you’re a tell tale or a storyteller with a label tagged male or female, amidst the other sharers who have tagged or defined themselves as ‘other genders.’

You wake into being and the first thing you do is look into to the eyes of others.

Writing a story – you should have known better – that you were here to live a story which has long been written, and fulfil your destiny.

But instead, you look around at the glory of others who decided it was time to live their story. So now they’re happy and living so happily, happily ever after – they’ve their money. Big big bosses. You – so tiny.

“I’m sorry. Isn’t this the story of life?”, you exclaim. Sweety, you were chasing a blog filled with poems, writings, fiction and human beliefs, thinking to yourself ‘oh what a good read’, maybe I’ll stay a little while and see where this goes, a little longer and see what (s)he knows.

On Facebook, Instagram, snapchat and other social media, which is now the television we used to cling to but have now tossed away because we have chosen to seek information the new way – watching other people grow: how the television people grow, you know when Beyonce was younger and now she has children. And not only the celebrities. You watch your community – how he grows, how she grows.

You’re a scaredy cat. Afraid to chase the lions. Aren’t you a tiger – meant to be in the field. But here you are – satisfied – you’ve had a meal – a scaredy rat eaten by a scaredy cat. You don’t even have cheese because you can’t smile or laugh with the little income you have but you can be satisfied with the information you have.

When will you realise that even if you try – that’s enough. Everyone’s trying. Everyone’s dying. Not everyone’s flying. Because no matter  how hard you try – if you continue to focus on others every single time and forget you were here to help yourself and others who truly can’t, you will eventually starve.

Starve yourself – you’ve been starving your dreams and your skills – feeding them fantasies of icecream because you’re so afraid to eat dirt. It was easier when you were a child. You craved sand and got your hands dirty. Now it’s all spa and nail polish. But oh wait, you get your hands dirty for the news and gossip of others living their lives.

Be wise. You have only one life. It doesn’t matter if another is divorced, heartbroken or has ten wives or only one wife. Why won’t you stop for a second. And stop for a minute. And stop living a life full of oh-so-glorious lies.

Because the more you keep going after what is not your story or caring about other people’s stories or glory or whatever it is you’re even doing, reading and believeing -you’re not inspiring.. you’re going to end up truly tired, sad and lonely.

I’m not saying this because I love or hate you but because I too am a story teller and have chosen to tell my own story. Because I don’t care about the story another will tell of me – past, present, future. You say: ‘But our paths were meant to cross..’ and I tell you: that’s not even poetry.


Women are trying, dying, crying, but are living, believing. 🌸

art by @drakouantigoni (on IG)

‘.. and Mary Magdalene..’

That’s okay my darling. I know you know much about the bible but your baby is starving. Please feed her. 

‘… The milk.. I’m not having.. (sobs) I’m not having any.. (pause).. what if she dies mummy.. what if my baby dies mummy.. (sobs).’

Love, you’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.  You hear me, my darling. Weeping may endure for a night but our joy will come in the morning. 

‘..Mum, I’m not okay, am I?’

You’re fine baby. My darling you’re..

‘Stop lying! Aaaarghh!’

(Sobs) My darling, stop.. stop shouting. you’re already dying, inside you are dying.. stop.. (Pause) (Sigh) I’m trying.. I am. Just let me help you.. please. I love you. 


No darling, stop sighing. You’ll be fine. I promise. You’re trying. You’re trying too. We’ll be fine. And your baby too. We will all be fine. Okay?


Yes, my darling. 

‘You’re annoying.’

– postpartum depression. Did you know? That women, and other women are trying? Be kind. 🌸

‘..crying. The baby’s crying, mum.’


For the fearless

Less of me and more of God. Did you say you don’t believe? in a God. But you believe in a god? Don’t answer that. you know that you’re a god – 

breathing, creating, stating beliefs. 

I don’t understand you. You breathe the air you did not create but you go on and wake up and breathe the air you did not create, over and over, day by day. 

I don’t believe you – when you say you don’t believe that you were created because you go on and create things – beautifully made  things, and even little beings and you say “there is no Creator.”

You amuse me – stating beliefs but doubting the truth, written in leaves of paper: for your guidance, reproof, proof that indeed there is a God who can speak – stating His truth to guide you, chastise you, prove to you that He exists. 

Enough! You walk away with your beliefs. Head up high – look at the sky and take some time. To wonder – 

is there really no God? 

stars shining so bright at night; sun travelling within the clouds; flowers beaming and blooming so sweetly; the air you breathe and need to live; the waters you drink and bathe within; the streams that you pollute; shadows waving back at you; other humans laughing with you; laughter – where does it come from; emotions; tears; joy; little drops drizzling from the sky; a downpour; rain; showers – who controls these? you? the words you write.. are they true? who believes them? only you?

Is there really no God?

There is a God.

And He’s just like you – in image. 

Not in power and not in splendour. Not in might. He’s our mentor – 

He said let us create (wo)man in our image – after our likeness. behaviour, beliefs, abilities, capabilities. If (s)he believes. 

Believe thou fearless. 

Fear God. 


Picture it – your life.

“Take a leap of faith – then you will meet your fate. Smile within and shine without. Your goal is to let your star shine not to become a star for you already are – since you were – since your tiny head came into life – the world saw you and knew – and you too knew. that you already were a star. shining so bright. A star is not a celebrity. It is  a sun at night – using its light, amidst other stars – shining with love, poise and everything – just because – it loves.”


“Shine bright! you’re a diamond, tried in the fire, shattered in pieces, slipped off from your casing – so many times. But it was I who made you and knew your weak frame. I never called you, not once by a strange name – not unbeliever, sinner, weaker vessel, nothing, whatever. I love you. My diamond. I tried you with My Own hands – in the fire. I saw you slip and I felt the pain when you fell and whenever you break into many pieces – my imperfect being – you are not sin.

I alllowed you break, faint.




your shattering is a design. your many pieces is part of my plan, my darling. shine. shine with my light and care not about anything for no human is ME. I gave them life and fear not about anything, I will always provide. for you. and every being – that loves ME.


LOVE like you’ve never seen,





Roses are growing, thorns too.

Good day. May I serve you?

Yes, please.
A vase of flowers..
um, roses would do.

But we don’t do roses
without thorns.


Shh. Let me take it from here.
Bring the flowers, yes, with the thorns.

Okay sir.

Ah yes, my dear.
Some will dare you:

That you should not grow.
But be patient. Be patient with them.

Here you go..
Your roses with thorns.

Forgive them. For they do not know..
What they are doing..
Is daring you – to be great.

Bloom, blooming darling.
Bloom, my beautiful darling.
The thorns would not!
They shall be cut.. Off.




photo by ohlovequotes


Lay me down in paradise,



Lay me down in paradise,

and let me never go back.




Let me stay with you. one night,

for ’twas  lonely in the dark.




Sweet smelling roses,

birds singing choruses,

maybe i’ll even see Moses

(smiles – laughs).




They’re asking me to come back.

Please, don’t take me back.


Tis French for paradise.




Sweet smelling lavenders.

The wind’s breeze is so tender.

Please, let them no longer,