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Anthonio Clever Moonloight


A compilation of poems and short stories

Anthonio Clever


©Copyright 2018 Anthonio Clever

ISBN: 978-1-911014-89-8

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical photocopy, recording, or any other means except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the permission in writing from the author and publisher

Published by LamLam inkings

Tel: +234 (0) 7054963639

Design by Reverum Studios

Tel: +234 (0) 806 003 4048

Edited by


For all enquiries, please contact

Anthonio Clever


Tel: +234 (0) 816 012 5544

For a generation to come much later


To a beloved with open ears ready to listen

Special thanks to God, Family

And You

This book is designed to take you through twenty and one days of poetry and short stories.

A young man’s attempt to pass on tales from father to beloved.

Daylight, Sunlight, Streetlight, Moonlight and Spotlight are instruments of distinction between the types of light each piece sheds

So you should know, you would find fear in spotlight.

I hope you see the light

(Please note, all works are fictitious)


October 8, 2017

Trying to slice through Baby’s undivided attention

I would need higher powers

Some emotions

A little bit of history

And a tale about lovers just the way she would like it

Maybe then we can have our first session

Here I go

Baby, listen…”

NO WORD Moonlight

I apologize for the obvious lack of words

Since alphabets can’t dance together beautifully enough

Words can’t announce you

Lips can’t pronounce your greatness

No qualifier is an adjective to your glory

Action and doing words are not verbal enough

So even if I add verbs, more still doesn’t add value

So dear conjunction, what is your function?

Every preposition made hasn’t done justice

And this is failure interjected!

Dear God,

I apologize on behalf of lexis and structure

Since the pool of words in my ocean of understanding couldn’t ship back all the glory


The sun cast its bright lights on the long bridge

Ambulances and their sirens became the soundtrack of that noon

With Car horns and loud stereos blasting feisty nonchalant noise

A sour sight laid, lifeless bodies casting a familiar shadow

It was the third of May on the third mainland

Fire grazed three vehicles headed for the industrious island

The third had a girl I knew pretty well

She was just like me

Young, with hopes and dreams

All dashed that moment on the third mainland bridge

As the cars raced past, many more dreams passed

And then her racing heart pumped its last

As air and smoke filled up her lungs

At that point, no one could have asked

She lived a life full of stories

They died in her head, carted away in an ambulance

Flanked by uniform men, who guarded sleeping dreams

She wanted to write her own book one day

I wrote a book, and started with her story

On the third mainland lies racing and dead dreams

And then there’s me and you across the bridge

Awake, Living the dream!

  1. TWOS Streetlight

We spent two nights at the clinic waiting for you to own your breath

Mother was gradually getting over the soreness between two thighs waiting for you to say “thank you”

Granny kept a smile on even with just two teeth dancing to the rhythm of your heartbeat

Every passing moment, my heart raced down on my two knees, praying I have enough to make your world lit

"The food at the naming must have at least two meat", I heard your uncle scream

And for once in all of our worlds, words became too cheap to put our feelings to sleep

The truth is, the house only became a home when you stepped in with your two tiny feet

  1. HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER Moonlight

I did not meet your mother one sunny Sunday afternoon at the shopping mall, Not when she bent to pick a nylon laying harmlessly, Nigerian style, right on the floor next to the dustbin. After I picked my spot and took a shot, it turned out she missed the bin while attempting free throws with pure water nylons with her cousin one sunny Sunday afternoon at the crowded shopping mall. 

I did not meet your mother the following sunny Sunday afternoon at the shopping mall when we both agreed to do same place, same style but without the cousin. Of course, in life, you hear about how you'll meet someone that totally complements you, this wasn't the case, the girl sitting right in front of me with the tiny ice cream spoon the other way round in her mouth on a sunny Sunday afternoon was the opposite.

I did not meet your mother when it began to feel like we thought alike, when sunny Sunday afternoons stopped showing up and we talked all night, she would sleep off on the phone and blame me for hanging up, she was my baby, she was my grown toddler, and I was the complete opposite of everything she ever dreamt about in a man, so it was always easy for her to fall asleep since that was a step closer to her dreams.

I did not meet your mother when love was getting casual compliments on a sunny Sunday afternoon when she chose to do “no make-up”, that day I figured she had wicked intentions as she looked like she could slay queens, I don't remember the compliments I paid, and I remember she rolled her eyes every time I tried. The trance life showed me pictured her in a white gown and a stranger told me suits suit me.

We were not casual, we were in love, and we got serious, and risked all of the hurt, we had many sunnier Sunday afternoons like the one after the wedding where we talked about raising a child yet I had not met your mother.

Luckily, one sunny Sunday afternoon, I met your mother, it was after hours of labour, the doctors wouldn't let me in so I cried for hours to my saviour, when I eventually met your mother, the sun had gone down, I'm not sure it was still Sunday afternoon, but she looked more beautiful than my dreams could ever picture and I grew fears of how I would share the same special woman with you, my daughter.

  1. BABY, LISTEN Spotlight

Listen Baby,

We live in a noisy world that could drown away our voices

Man wants to live, a choice to more than survive that takes away our choices

So when lemons come, we have been taught to prune down our losses

Will ends one day meet, if wishes were horses?

It's easy to get lost in a world long forgotten

It's even harder to be found, like good ratings when the tomato's rotten

So the more I spoke, the more the truth got in

That you remain the most important to me in this world we all rot in

So I penned down stories

From the gods

From my own father

From things that are scared to speak

Wrote them down in words I'm scared to read

I wrote their stories

I hope you read and then, listen

October 9, 2017

And how dare I not give thanks for last night?

In between the lessons of responsibilities and the reminder that karma might be alive, today, we truly begin the trip