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Ode To A Dancing Pen

Published by Laybels Publishing

Copyright 2018 Brenda Eziafakaego Nwafor

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This collection is dedicated to all humble beginnings; everyone who is a seed planter. To poetry, for seeking me, finding me and sticking with me.

To love; my muse and my distraction. To everyone who loves me without reason and believes in me even when I don't. To Mummy, for being all you are and more.

To God, for being the source of all inspiration.


One: Beginnings and Endings

Two: The Preacher

Three: Housewife’s Rant

Four: Serial Date

Five: Eating To Die

Six: Distraught

Seven: Para Mi Amor [For My Love]

Eight: Love Drought

Nine: Deathly Passion

Ten: Pidgin Sweet

Eleven: Lie [The Pacifier]

Twelve: The Woman’s Spell [Enchanted]

Thirteen: Like Brenda

Fourteen: The Journey

Fifteen: Bugs

Sixteen: My Lagos

Seventeen: Deprived

Eighteen: Royal Rascals

Nineteen: Sexual Amnesia

Twenty: Insurance

Twenty-one: Candid Uncertainties

Twenty-two: The Mocker

Twenty-three: Blind

Twenty-four: Man

Twenty-five: This Earth, My Brother

Twenty-six: Against All Odds

Twenty-seven: Love Repellent

Twenty-eight: Heart Tales

Twenty-nine: Unblotted Scenes

Thirty: Ode To Sleep

Thirty-one: My Country

Thirty-two: Which Tomorrow

Thirty-three: Nwakaego

Thirty-four: Abraka Sun

Thirty-five: Love

Thirty-six: The Journey – The Sequel

Thirty-seven: Falling Again

Thirty-eight: Sanguine

Thirty-nine: Abandoned

Forty: To Racists

Forty-one: Macho Man

Forty-two: Better As Lyrics

Forty-three: Those Who Have Slept

Forty-four: Empty

Forty-five: Discovery’s Aftermath

Forty-six: The Sun

Forty-seven: Solitude

Forty-eight: No Love

Forty-nine: Scars

Fifty: Loveticide

Fifty-one: Oga Nla

Fifty-two: This River



Here again

I get to the finish line

The end which gradually will fade

Fade into a new beginning

A beginning with new hopes and aspirations

Which with time

Will diffuse into another end

My life

A cycle of endings and beginnings


No ear listens to my talk

No heart tries to understand

No brain to assimilate

No conscience to weigh options

From reason everyone takes a walk

Patience and love becomes but a strand

Ego and pride comes to mediate

Strife gains several promotions

I am an ancient preacher

I preach the old sermon

Of love and tolerance

Of empathy and humility

I am but a teacher

I call all elements to summon

I engage perseverance

I plead objectivity

I restate the old interrogation

“Can several succeed except they agree?”


Go, go and cool your heat

In the Atlantic Ocean

Get fresh air on the Kilimanjaro

Get warmth down the valley

Bask in your insatiable aura

Go, go and grill your sausage

In the oven

Grab the papaya

Smack the rear

Stroke the edges

Go, go and return

Stagger back in your chauvinism

Bath me in the shower of your insult

Point to me with your left hand

You will meet me at home

Fly with Wendy to Dubai

Run with Mandy to Paris

With Shakirat, go to Katangua

Enjoy your conference in Linda’s wrap

Sow your wild oats

I am the one at home

I tend your wounds

I am the one people know

The one who suckled you and Junior

The one who has your life in her hands

Be macho

Stand like the tip

Of a didi elegbe kan weave

Cold water will calm you

Your name is Balogun

You beat your chest

Like King Kong

Go on, ward off enemies

Agbe, plant well

Replenish the earth

Remember you whimper like Nkita

When I refuse to sleep well

I am the one you call that woman

Or when you wish, wife


You will meet me at home


I am a real lady-killer

Breaking their hearts by the minute

But they are taking me back by the second

Rocking their world

Then digging wells of tears in their eyes

I rip their souls

Making them plead at my feet

For sins they did not commit

They seek atonement

I drain them of life

Yet they beg for death

I got them all over

Biggies in Africa

Middies in America

Skinnies in Europe

I nib their doubts in the bud

I keep up appearance

I am their guilty pleasure

They have buddies

But keep me as honey

I finish them

And twist the knife in

Pacifying them

I push their faces in the mud

Making their nights sleepless

And their moans ceaseless

Then I dust my butt and walk

They say I am heartless

Or even wicked

No, I am not… I am just a poor serial lover


With spoons we dig our graves

Though slower than spade

Yet deadlier than lethal drink

We munch

But only to die

With our hands

We groom our doom to bloom

Our cuisines are

Road maps to our caskets

We are in close romance with sucrose

Fiends with whole grains

Cholesterol we embrace

Fiber we detest

Goats are healthier

Even the horses

We leave fruits to maggots

They grow big and plump

By our recipes

We shrink and die


Every day I carry this hunger

When will I be filled

When will this thirst

This insatiable thirst be quenched

I, every moment bear a burden

When will I be relieved

When will this yoke

This burdensome yoke be loosed

I strain my eyes

Against all piercing lights

To see beyond the mountain

When will the vision become clear

I try to stir and mix the broth

With all ingredients

When will my skills

Produce the applause I yearn

Day by day

Patience is strangled

Hope keeps fizzling out

Defenses tumble down

My sunny day

Becomes a drizzle

My shea butter

Only but melts away

But this is what I’ll do

I’ll dust my butt

Put on my tux

In place of my admirable sackcloth

Jut my chin in the air

Grin and say,

“Tomorrow is just a day away,

I only have to wait.”



Let us play the play

That brought us forth


Let’s be marooned

Within the solitude

Of passionate affection


Is where we come

For the pleasure sought


Let our fingers be entangled

In pre-foreplay

And our throats gulp

As emotions stream down our spines

Let us lock the world out

And let our heartbeats

Be in consonance

With our impassioned frames

I want to shudder

As your breathe caresses the nape of my neck

And wonder what next you will do

Then our lips clasp

Allowing our tongues search for lost nothings

Let us play this play

That gives our hands liberty

To explore

And give life to our fantasies

We will have no need for blanket

Our heat will warm us fine

There will be no need for utensils

We will dine off our skins

Let us play that play

That breaks down defenses

Making us souls apart

Become one

While our legs

Play interlocking footsie

Let us to each other

Be a million things

I, your rhythm

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