LETTER FROM ABRAHAM LINCOLN TO HIS SON’S TEACHER

He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, all men are true. But for every scoundrel there is a hero; that for every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader.

Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend.

Teach him that a dollar earned is far more value than five dollars found.

Teach him to learn to lose and also to enjoy winning.

Steer him away from envy, if you can.

Teach him the secret of quiet laughter.

Teacher him the wonder of books; but also give quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and flowers on a green hillside.

In school, teach him it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat.

Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone tells him they were wrong.

Teach him to be gentle with gentle people, and though with though people.

Try to give him the strength no to follow the crowd when everyone is getting to the band wagon.

Teach him to listen to all men, but teach him also to filter all and take on a screen of truth and take only the good that comes through.

Teach him to laugh when he is sad.

Teach him there is no shame in tears.

Teach him to close his ears to howling mob; and to stand and fifth if he thinks he’s right.

Teach him gently, but do not cuddle him, because only they test of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage to be impatient, let have the patience to be brave.

Teach him always to have sublime faith in his creator and faith in himself too, because then will always have faith in mankind.

This is a big order, but please see what you can do.

He is such a fine little fellow, my son:

Abraham Lincoln

STANDING BY THE GRAVE SITE

STANDING BY THE GRAVE SITE

It has been over thirteen years now

I couldn’t resist the obligation then

A son been obligation to be there

Dust to dust for a man I looked up to

Last week I was again obligated

To strand beside a friend in grief

Earth to earth to a brother so loved

The song of weeping filled the air

Standing by the grave site

Once again am faced with reality

A reality I live with but not by

Soldiers we have lost along the way

Very soon I’ll come visit you in at school

Was the last word he said to me

But never kept those word to me

Much later I was called to cast earth on him

Timothy was yet another good soldier

He never looked like he was go early

He always planned to travel abroad

But a place broader took hold of him

Tell Kikelomo that I still don’t understand

You gave everything to be one of the best

The best my department produced in 2004

Died a day after you collected your result

I was the last to see Banjo that night

He came by the office to get his sweater

On that cold night but never returned

My heart bled so much when I was told

Reminiscing, tears in my eyes and my heart

As I write these lines without poetic mastery

The list goes on but at this point says no more

Rest in peace Dubeim Sunre O!

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). January, 2012

Morenike

Let me call your Name

Morenike! Let me use it as a song

For true love have no wrong

It’s always there wherever you turn

 

I will shout your Name

Morenike! You are a balm to heart’s pains

Bringing joy non-stop like season rain

You bring more hope filled in a train

 

My heart will keep mentioning your Name

Morenike! I found you in a land

A land many called an empty land

But found you when I dogged dip with my hand

 

My friends are calling your Name

Morenike! They all say am lucky

Pslam 31 woman who will takeaway worry

Bringing peace of mind in a lorry

 

I have found a real treasure

I will call you my Morenike

Listen O ye trees mo ti ri eni ti mo le ke

Rejoice with me I found eni ti mo le ke

 

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). November, 2012

 

Abaramoreje

Abaramoreje

The cosmos was made and it was good

A master piece of creativity personified

To immortals it was given as custodians

Freedom was given and choice was currency

Am confused as I write these lines

The thought of a snail destroying its shell

Such was the case of these terrestrial beings

Little by little the shell is crumbling

Unto us cosmos was given as stewards

We began to device ways for better living

On this voyage we are destroying the tower

Tower that has been our protective cage

I look and see a massive abuse

Because she’s not vocal they continued

With tears rolling down her eyes

The pains like a woman in labor

You take from her never given back

You labour her yet choose to starve her

She opens her arms with no reservations

Yet these arms you inflict injuries and hurts

Push to the wall with no more space

Now the silent is now speaking

Now faced by her wrath we are confused

Thousands dies at her every enunciation

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). November, 2012

She was sixteen

She was sixteen

The teenage years started

Physical expression runway started

The baby’s treasure becomes pronounced

I look around and see stares paraded

 

What is it about you

Everyone is talking about you

Is that all these applicants see a treasure

Or they see another victim for pleasure

 

Wisdom called on the street

Shouting with passion from his tree

The words of the elders you ignored

Now by all of them you have been abandoned

 

You are now thirty six years old

Now all the men say you are too old

Each time you look at your face

You weep because the beauty has fade

 

Remember when you were sixteen

A good home was part of your dream

Now everything has changed

 Begging for any husband to be named

 

 She used to be sixteen

 

 

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). October, 2012

 

Where are the Jingle Bells

Where are the jingle Bells

We are already in the month October

The second month on the months of ‘Bers’

The beginning of the holidays

When the families gather rejoicing for spent days

 

Growing up if we can all remember

Jingle bells start ringing from October

Now we are in September

Celebration mood looks far not closer

 

Where are the jingle bells?

What has the country done to the bells?

Has the country situation mute the bell?

Or the millennium age overtook the bell

 

It used to be so sweet

The joy then was so real

The whole family countenance glowed

When the Christmas melody flowed

 

Where are the jingle bells?

Where are the Christmas Carols?

Where are the silent nights?

Bring back the days of early jingle bells

 

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). October, 2012

I am BacK

I am back

Poetry was the way I live

Never thought days would come

When situation help put a pause

To what to me was second nature

The inspiration never stop coming

But this was a period of academic writing

I always knew a part of me I was missing

Poetry’s passion never stopped flowing

Several water have flowed things are changing

Kere O! The gong is ringing

Heralding the return of poetry voice

Let the bush rabbit listen

Go and tell the house rabbit to hasten

Am back! Mode O! Na dawo!

 

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). October, 2012