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.
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
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.
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
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.
Written by: Daodu Deji Cornelius.
Witty Quill 2017.
As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I feel the threat of tears rise again.
My face! I thought solemnly. I look down at the array of make-up lined up on my dressing table and I realized that no quantity or quality of make-up can cover a swollen half closed eye, a split lower lip and a broken nose.
I shuddered painfully.I raise my left hand, devoid of my wedding ring, to touch my swollen eye but, I end up wincing as the sharp pain in my ribs reminds me of his shoes’ brutality.
My reflection is distorted…shattered…battered.
I sigh mournfully as I make an attempt to sit on my bed, recalling last night’s incident.
He had returned late in his black mood, ignored my welcome greeting.
I usually stay away from him whenever he is in this state.
An innocent question of “would you prefer jollof rice or efo riro and wheat?” had turned his anger on me.
I didn’t back away fast enough, his fisted hand connected with my nose and I heard a crack.
Unconsciously, I yelled out in pain. The sound seemed to have fueled his anger.
Ten hours later, I am staring at the results of my husband’s black mood and I wish I could be anywhere but here. Save me please!
#diary of an abused wife
Written by Okusun Mercy
Another blow has struck, this one has shattered my fragile emotions.There is an internal conflict between both voices inside my head.
The cruel voice cackles hysterically “you are even more naive than I thought” the voice says.
I shake my head in grief and almost agree with the voice. I can’t help the rivulets of tears staining my face.
I feel numb and devalued. My eyes have refused to give in to the lure of sleep.
The quiet house offers no consolation, the sound of the ticking clock does nothing to soothe me.
I turn to my pillow for comfort… It soaks up my quiet sobs.
“The cycle is repeating itself” the cruel voice taunts. I cover my ears with both hands to block out the voice.
This is me now. …pitifully helpless, desperate for love, wanting reassurance, yearning for comfort.
“Wipe your tears” the gentle voice calls out, a lifeline in the turbulent storm. I smile for the first, since the incident, I pat my face dry and give myself a pat on the right shoulder.
I can go through this.. I tell myself, I’m strong enough… I can survive.
This is why I am who I am… The woman who refuses to let anything weigh her down.
My personality is my identity.
#Chronicles of her choice.
Written by OKUSUN MERCY