poetry

Guest Post: Finding the meaning of a word (Beauty, beautiful) 

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The words: beauty and beautiful are no strange words to the human race, I mean they’ve been used since as far back as man came into existence. 

Remember when God looked at all he had made and said everything was beautiful? Yeah you do. I really don’t have issues with the word itself but the way it’s being used nowadays is quite interesting.

 I want you to look around you as you read and see how many people are beautiful, its hard to really judge right? You probably wanna know why? Well its because the word has no essence on it’s own. 

I mean it’s defined along theborders of various yardsticks, most of which are irredeemably subjective. Let me refresh your memory a little bit. 

You must have heard, times without number, this cliché ” beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” Alright, here’s the thing, when a guy comes over and tells you “you are beautiful”, how do you know that you and him use the word the same way? Think about it. 

 According to Ludwig Wittgenstein in his work(scholarly paper) “The Language Game”, where he argues that language is like a game whose rules one must master before effective use can be achieved, the real meaning of a word is in the mind of its user, (there we go) so the problem of definition is engendered right there. 

I once stumbled on a poem that reads ” you are beautiful as the stars in heaven” (Really?) Okay, but we need to analyse this. I know, I know what you are about to say ” it’s a poem”, “nature is beautiful”, (long face activated) bla bla bla. 

I get that but what if the reader is not a fan of stars, what if it’s tornado instead that appeals to him or her that would mean that they (writer & reader)are not on the same wave-length.

Let’s consider another vantage point on the same issue. Life is marked by time (think of centuries) and each period (generation) has it’s own ideology that shapes it’s world view. 

The way fashion in the 16th and 18th centuries is different from what is obtainable in the 21st century. So also, the way beauty was defined back then is not the way we see it now. 

These concepts are in a constant state of flux. There was a time when the whole tall dark and handsome (TDH fever) gripped ladies and it was chick for them. At a time it was all about abs (Six pack fever).

These yardsticks have been used by women as a standard for judging men. There was a time when BBW (big bold nd beautiful) was chick though but in this current dispensation, two kinds of women really get a man’s attention; the slim ones and the thick ones. So tell me, is the word beautiful still one and the same??

  The quest of finding the meaning and true essence of a word can be an herculean task, so often times than not, we stick with assumptions borne out of ideologies, as strong as the Empire State building, that have guided our lives from the outset. 

I’m no expert but trust me, next time someone uses the word on you, you won’t too eager to blush.  

Written by: Daodu, Deji Cornelius.

                             2017

Guest Post: WALKERS

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You’re such a wonderful beast, 
You either bring trouble or add to my needs. 

When I needed you the most, then would you flee, 

it had always been love, now I can’t tell what I feel. 
You used to be the radiant sun, 

You shone for light but now you burn, 

and yes you claim to be the Holy one 

while we both know you are but a scum. 
You said true love was all you felt, 
I think you placed me under a spell, 

but right now I can boldly tell, 

even a voodoo won’t move my pen.
I knew you would never admit your guilt,

whether or not, I still wish you peace

’cause no one could teach me better than you did, 

You’ve been such a wonderful beast. 

Written by: Oluwadamilola David Yusuf

Guest Post: When whispers die

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The news caster appears again to echo yesterday’s sentiments:

Monies growing wings
Agbada and Ghana-must-go bags become friends

All the while there are no horns men to sound the alarm.

 Child: Father, will no one speak up against these crimes?

Father: my child, as you age in life, you start to appreciate the safety in silence.

 Child sighs as justice drowns

From a distance, 

Mother: my child come for your food.

  Written by: Daodu, Deji Cornelius.  

      2017.

Guest Post: OUT AGAIN

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I knew I wasn’t deceived when you touched my left cheek. 

I felt the warmth of blood from your soft fingertips,

I saw an angel though you were just a lady, 

Brother you are lost, my mind silently told me. 
I had found earlier no relevant thing, 

Just trees and dead leaves that roamed freely. 

The thought of being lost stirred thick within me, 

I couldn’t prevent my head in confusion from ringing. 
Your eyes posses such a wonderful gleam,

You ought to be special, a supernatural being. 

At an attempt to offer a passionate kiss, 

The couch shook and interrupted the blissful dream. 

Written by: Oluwadamilola David Yusuf

Guest Post: Lullaby

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  Incessant tears ran rivulets on my face
  Til you stepped into my pain

  Your voice calmed my frail nerves

  And sent my worries to Thebes

 Once again, sing and lull me to sleep

   #Evening_Muses
Written by:  Daodu Deji Cornelius.
     Witty Quill 2017.

Guest Post: For DUNAMIS

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 Dunamis is the epitome of feminine grace.

 Playful and mild like the breeze yet lethal like the viper when riled.

 Her voice swallowed the echoes of the crowd and put us in a world of our own.

 A beautiful bag of trouble laying in wait to be unraveled but a great catch for one who speaks wisdom.
 She is the confusing flight pattern of a bat yet she is the orderly march of armed men.

Sweet-bitter spicy sauce cooked with succulent sausages washed down with exquisite wine.

#Morning_Musing

#Poetry

Written by:  Daodu Deji Cornelius.

           Witty Quill 2017.

BROKEN DREAM

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I am at the peak of my youth
A beautiful broken woman

An emotionally devoid woman

An irreparable damage has been done

A life threatening and colossal damage

A damage that cannot be compensated

They hurt me

They hurt me terribly

That day has been forever engraved into my memory

Oh! On that cursed day

My parents had turned their backs on me

Telling me tradition demands it

Tradition? I asked, laughing hysterically

Which tradition? What tradition?

What cruel tradition destroys the dream of a young woman?

I cried, I almost ran out of tears

My heart-wrenching sobs almost made my heart stop beating

The excruciating pain almost made me stop breathing

I have just an identity left now

I am the woman with a broken dream

A victim of Female Genital Mutilation

Bearing the brunt of tradition demand

I will never be the same again.

 

Written by OKUSUN MERCY