20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers



Pre-note: I apologise  for how long this is… but I do need your help. I would be really glad if I got title suggestions for this poem. It was written by my boyfriend a while back, and we only recently decided to publish his collection with his permission. I believe it only proper that we appendage the name of whomever’s title sounds as a right fit for the poem along-side it in the publication. Thanks in advance… and for taking the time to read.

Wind. Mind and illusion.

Three words of freedom and dream. Dream.

Dream and ambition.

Two words of bravery, audacity and ego.


That which labels not two words or three, or four,

But one.

Neither dream nor ambition, neither mind nor illusion,

Four words of placid bewilderment.

Of deep thought and belief, of conviction and denial,

Antonyms and metaphors. Hypothetical self-esteem,

Purely primordial imagination, prayers and chants to invisible airs,


Inferior noises to the blue skies of day, and black skies at twilight,


Compounded sequences of disturbed segments of notion,

In reposed action, flowery paradises of the future.

Ironies of reality, desperate desire and inception,

Four words of critic and mockery,


Extinct possibilities, like as melting glaciers in the winters,

Simmers of boiling emotion, freezing the ice,

Breaking the skies and pouring evils upon earth.

Desire. Desperate desire,

Needs of the soul, penumbral wishes of the body,

Vain. Dark and vain, aimless as the clouds,

Trailing the wind and erasing the silver lining,


Foundations. The origins of the genesis, the irony,

And absolute misery of rains under the sun,

Illusion. The fantasy of a wet sun, melting the clouds to create the rain,

Chimeras that the eyes can feel and the skin can see,

Figments of daydream, visions of fragmented stars,

Is it the blue in the oceans, or the skies?

Is it the green in the park, or the illusion of the mind’s eye?


Clockwork and timeless manufacture of fabrications,

Beauty inexistent, a whole new world.

That which is created in the mind, is that which is not

The action offered in the physical.

The real world.

Ego. Is all it is?

Decharacterised delusion of self,

Constructed being, that which we may not be- wind.

Airs that shred the summer leaves, that burn the rains,

Black skins in white coating, silver with a clouded lining,

Persons that we are not ready to be,

That is who we are. Non-realities.

Simulated mockeries of God’s image,

Wind. Mind and illusion.

Our minds, caught in wild illusions carried swiftly by the winds,

Carried away to a distant place in these dreams.


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You are the space between my fingers

the bone from which I was formed

You are the sun in my world

the star that was reborn

You are the white of my black

the gap in my teeth

I am the book – You are the chapters

I am the page – You are the words

I am the music – the melody is Yours

I am your dark-side

I am the ache in Your throbbing heart

You are the dream that shrouds my night

I am the wrong of your right

You are the safe of fright

I am your love’s delight

I am the wind rustling your  wings

I am the free in your spirit

I am the calm in the storm

I am the danger unknown

You are the light of my shadow

the portrait of my tomorrow

You are the strokes in my brush of paint

the paper boat, the paper planes

the paper boxes and paper games

You my love


Side note:

ARE – 1. To be everything (to somebody)

2. To be the most important part; all that matters (as in the be-all and end-all of something)

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I will never be as good as you in poetry, even if I tried

I will never be as brave as you with leadership, for that was your life

You taught me about the seven seas,

You showed me love through your eyes

You calmed the storm in me

You brought me to life


And yet we had to say goodbye, before the final goodbye

But still you clung to me, bothering me with check up calls and texts

You hung on to me even when I cared less

You called me a rock star, you did

You loved me, and us, young blood

You showed me how to lead differently

How to dream big, and do deeds

You set the pace


And yes I will miss you now that you’re flown

I will cling to teddy bear Josh every night,

For you have ruined my chance

Ruined I say with this kind of love

I wish I had loved you more

I wish I had given more, given all

I wish we had not been afraid to defy the odds

But I can never know why

All I can do is cry


Take care of my brother, will you?

I know you will, just like you did with Daniel

We’re going to take care of Tosca and Mom,

But who will take care of us now?

Say hullo to Lynda for me

I love you, I love you so much

For although I lost my faith with Joseph’s death,

I found it with yours


Epilogue: I dated Josh back in 2010 from June to August. It was beautiful, his kind of love was pure and undefiled. We did not work out because he was not ready, and neither was I, and for other reasons known to the two of us that I shall not disclose. I never stopped loving him, and that faithful friend called time healed the pain of leaving him. I pray to God that he found true love within the years after we broke up. He wrote one love poem for me in French, but never had the courage to put in on facebook. “The Blue Petal” is the poem he wrote for me, after my nick name. Rest in Peace sweet Tobin Sahib Joshua Ojok.

Further note: I decided to share it on here this places is an inspiration to me. Also I am working on a book filled with his Poems that I will be giving out free copies of in the beginning of October and would like to share with the community here. 

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Dreaming dreams hoping for a light,
waiting patiently for something in the night,
wanting so desperately to mean something,
to mean more than something to some one;

Dreaming of times long gone,
when winter melted into spring,
and burst into summer and fall,
when a season remained just that, a season;

But then time flew,
and we grew,
and that ends the story of me and you.



It’s the cool breeze,

as it brushes softly on your cheek

It’s the sunlight

seeping in through your window sill

It’s rain drops

pattering gently on the roof

It’s little nuances like these

when we embrace and kiss

It’s my friendship to you

and your kind gestures towards me

and I still think my love,

that you are much, much sweeter than honey!

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English: Sunset at Kalpeni.

English: Sunset at Kalpeni. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I guess it’s easier for you to stop loving me,

I guess it’s easier to demand what you want,

without asking me how i feel,

I guess you think I am just so full of it;

How about you just forget all that bull,

how about you just fuck me real good,

how about you do something spontaneous, 

aside from your laid out life for once;

I guess I just need you so freakin’ bad,

how about you kiss me now;

I guess am really afraid of being hurt,

how about you show me how….

to trust

to need

to hope

to love



African Children

African Children (Photo credit: 300td.org)

I saw her today, for the first time,

a broom on her left and her child on her right,

and on her shoulders… a ton of burdens,

she glanced at me as I passed,

but her hands kept that mechanical sweep

brushing away the dust off the road.

The child, her child, a girl,

she was so beautiful,

yet with every brush of the broom, her face turned a lighter brown,

and her mother, her dear mother kept

dragging her wandering feet away from the road side

protecting her like a mother should,

even if all she had were her hands and a mother’s love;

Still she swept.



I had to close my ears to the world,

because  all around me was noise,

and all around me were people telling me how wrong

you were for me.

Why is age that important?

Can’t I choose the one I want to love without worrying

about what he says, or she says?

I had to close my ears to the world,

the world was cruel, and mean, and cold,

too cold for the kind of warmth I had for you,

too cruel for the kind of love I felt for you.

Why is colour so important,

or height, or weight, or religion,

or culture, or tradition?

I closed my ears to the world a long long time ago,

and am glad I did my love,

because now I see that you were my world,

and now I know why we lasted this long,

and I will never let my ears open at all.



I tried, i tried again
to let you in,
to let us breathe,
to let love be.

But somehow I just was not ready.

And every time I tried to give you all of me,
My soul said no, not now, not now
And yet I still tried.

But my heart was not yet ready.

Baby I am TIRED of trying
tired of trying to be ready for you,
whatever that means,
I should probably just jump into the sea eyes closed

But my heart is just not yet ready…

But my heart is just not yet ready…

Baby, I said my heart is just not yet ready!

Not yet, not now, not ever,
because you see, I was already ready ages ago,
just not for you.
Sorry babe, but…

My heart is just not yet ready for you at all!





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