WHO ELSE, DEAR MOTHER?

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

Who else is not with you on this?
Who else is not born of a mother?
Who else is an ungrateful ingrate?
Who else is wombless in origin, artificial, a clone?
Who else is deaf, dumb and blind to her real worth?
"Nneka" says the Igbo, "Mother is supreme"
"Iyani wura" says the Yoruba, "Mother is gold"
"Uwata, ta fi ta kowa" says the Hausa, "My mother is the best"
"Honor thy mother (thrice)" says the Rasool.
"Be dutiful and kind to your mother" Says The Almighty Allaah.

(c) 2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

Title inspired by a potential mother... :) 

TIJJANI'S QUOTE No. 15

In poetry, the less words you can use to convey deep meanings, the better. - Tijjani M. M.

WHY DOES THEFT HURT SO BAD? ‪#‎Haiku‬

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

Why does theft hurt bad
Though one gives a hundred fold
Out of sheer freewill?

(c)2014 tijjani m. m.
all rights reserved

WHAT'S MY NAME? ~ ‪#‎14Haikus‬

...by Poetic Tee ”Here, take a sip"

Check, who bears no name?
Check again, what is nameless?
Now, ask "Why these names?"

Faces impress some
Names are transient to them. So
They forget them quick.

What contradiction!
In this life, names are sacred
Faces, we forget.

Names or nicknames get
Stolen in identity theft
Are they that worthy?

Name identifies
Authenticating our souls
None exist without one.

Name is like a reign
Once called, the owner answers
Aloud or silent.

Better a good name
Than silver and gold, though now
Most do not care.

Good, bad, names affect
Owners. Success or failures
Are tied to their use.

Give me a good name
A bad one, I pray you keep
Good names slam bad ones.

Change your name to good
If you are saddled with bad
Taught by the trusted.

Many a great man
Is remembered by his name
Never by his face.

Names are valued keys
Opening treasures hidden
In man and nature.

Names for the living
Natural or man-made. Tags
We bear, even in death.

So when you're long gone
A good name leave behind please
By it, live life on.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

EBOLA, I HATE YOU!

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

What calamity, what absurdity
How can it be so terribly denying
How am I suppose to survive this
This might as well, equally kill me too.

Can you imagine this wickedness?
Placing a ban, a mean embargo
Upon my favorite of meals, me cousin
Nay, call me not a cannibal please.

So what if he has five fingers each
Two eyes, two ears and one nose
Yes, we do look alike, so what?
He's delicious to taste when cooked.

Not only that, I am also to keep off
The night flyer, right? Gosh, you are
Surely after my carcass! To do what with?
Grilled or fried, my mouth's salivating already.

Look, look, they are both deliciously safe
Lies, just lies that they harbor a virus
Propaganda to deny hunters their livelihood
And me, my most sought after delicacies.

Ebola this, ebola that! How many deaths in
Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia and Senegal?
Now in America, Belgium, Spain, Germany
Do they consume monkeys and bats too?

A neighbor was touched with witchcraft
She hates bushmeat that I know for sure
Yet, they say she has Ebola virus. How?
She vomits blood in quantum sputum.

I, Akagadogunkudiata consume baboon
For lunch and dinner, sweet biomboli bats
For breakfast, grass-cutter in between
Ebola, for tainting my meals with death! I hate you!

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

I'M MARRIED TO 4 WOMEN... WEALTH, ROOTS, BEAUTY OR FAITH

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

I am married to 4 women
Not so do many men
For some prefer only one
Not because they don't pawn
Nor desire more butts at dawn.

One wife for her riches, wealth
With it, I buy me more than health
Though huge, my liberty demands
Are bruised with running her errands
For love bows, to excessive commands.

Another for her deep sunk roots
Vast, far and wide ancestral offshoots
I sprout offsprings lacking my identity
Swallowed by waters, oceans of security
Never to be free of their choking obscurity.

The other for her spell-binding beauty
A creative masterpiece, O what tranquility.
Asleep to moon gaze, awake to shimmering lights
Trouble is, wolves, vermins, sleuths seek too her delights
Turning my heart into a mad pot on fire, brewing more fights.

This last for nothing, but her faith
She holds the keys to the many gates
Guardian of thrills, treasures, pleasures, preserved
Soft smile, silk sheets, scented satisfactions, reserved
Yet, all these veiled from view of vanity, blindly observed.

Yes, I am married to 4 women
The first, for her wealth
Number 2, for her roots
Thirdly, for her beauty
And the last, for her faith.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

WRITING TIPS (Shared)

Writing Tip: Story Is King

A writer can mess up all sorts of things but pull off a compelling story and will win readers.
Does that mean we give up on craft? Absolutely not. But it does mean that we must think deeply about what makes a story compelling.

Take The Shack. How many people have grappled with the question of evil when it pertains to someone they deeply loved? There’s a relatability and universality there.

What about Twilight? How many teenage girls do you know who have felt unnoticed? Awkward? Insecure?
Tap into the deep longings of people’s lives where they live and spin a story that sweeps them inward and outward and you’ll pen stories that captivate.

By: Mary DeMuth

Today's 6 Word Story Challenge - Poetic Tee's Submission

Chained by yesterday, free today, forever!!!

LIFE, A MOTION PHOTO SHOT

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

Life is a photo, in motion
One single shot, taken
Depicting each day, differently
Developed from negatives, before
Worth more than 1000 words, much more
Fly it, don't walk it, nor ever crawl it.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

What inspired this piece was the crescent moon, which whenever it manifests is usually so thin, like a delicate, fragile, curved, silver thread. Then it grows with each passing day, until it becomes a full circle. Thereafter it starts to loose it all, until it becomes spent, another slim, weak, nearly unseen thing at the end of its journey.

 Then it occurred to me that many things in this life are similar in their sojourn, even mankind. And with each example I bring forth, I discovered they all seem to follow the same natural defined, patterned path. Thus my writing the piece, to show that we must be what we want to be within that single framed motion photo shot (each day)

Based on these observations, one might see clearly that each time a good thing in this life (love, marriage, employment, friendship, collaboration, etc) comes to an end, though these negative developments may pour sadness and grief all over us, yet if we are to adopt the ”never give up” spirit, gather the broken emotional pieces, glue them together and have the courage to move a step or two further, we are likely  to see ahead, a new beginning beckoning at us. And with the sour experiences we’ve been through in the previous engagements, mistakes made that resulted in the unfortunate collapse of such cherished interactions would come in handy and be used to make the new ones better.

Again life being a circle, repeating itself endlessly, one should realize that the saying “If one door closes, many more will open” holds true for always. Rather than sit, brood and cry over spilled milk, it is best to let go and reach out to the milk jug and pour yourself another cupful. Letting go of that unfortunate incident immediately and relish in the new found pleasure of the now available serving.

Besides, there are certain things we feel so sentimental about, attaching ourselves too much to them and ever afraid of loosing. To free us from such bondage, nature often would introduce certain situations, which we might find unpleasant, distasteful and unwanted. But, if we are patient enough to wade through it with time, soon we will discover that we have been saddled with negativity in our emotional and psychological struggle to hang on to them. Their absence in our new found life is not only freeing, but much more fulfilling as other pleasures hitherto ignored would come into our lives and make it memorable beyond bounds.

WHAT IF FOR EVERY WRONG....

...By Poetic Tee ”Here, take a sip"

What if for every wrong we do
Some unpleasant odor and puss ooze off us.

What if for every lie we tell
We loose our voice, croaking like frogs.

What if for every time we steal
We get a percentage body paralysis.

What if for every backbiting done
We have a terrifying, scary nightmare.

What if for every one we cheat
We hear insects crawling in our ears.

What if for every rape we commit
We experience a dangerous, epileptic fit.

What if for every illicit sex we engage in
We fart loudly, uncontrollably in public.

What if for every one we mock
We hallucinate, loosing our sense of balance.

What if for every time we get drunk or high
We get to reveal hidden skeletons in our cupboards.

What if for every corrupting image we watch
We loose a part of our eyesight, a day at a time.

What if for every time we are unjust
We become insomniac, till we sleep no more.

What if for every soul we kill
We become psychopathic, lunatic, then die mad.

What if for every har'm food we eat
We feel nauseated, throwing up blood in clots.

What if for every one we unjustifiably hurt
We get prickly, painful rashes all over our body.

What if for every evil we intend
We become lame, crippled, moving on all four.

What if for every sodomy we commit
We keep braying like donkeys, with erect phalluses.

What if for every incest indulged in
We loose our taste for food or drink till we confess.

What if for every slander spoken by anyone
We suffer from a devastating heart attack, comatose.

What if for every ungratefulness we show
We strip shamelessly naked, walking the streets unaware.

What if for every blasphemy we utter
We bite off a piece of our flesh, screaming in pains

What if for every thing unbecoming of man we do
We have some calamity befall us as part of our nature.

What if for every single atrocity we exhibit
We don't enjoy God's tolerance with regards to all above.

Hmmm. What terrible world this would surely be.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

LIFE IS A DREAM. #KyriellePoem

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

False promise, precious to the ears
She falls for sweet nothing "O dear"
Cheap ride on a cone of ice-cream
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

Eyes charmed, simple look indulging
Heart heaves heavily, divulging
Penetration escorts, loud screams
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

Stolen innocence, lost for life
A child abducted ain't your wife
How can you smile, without a grim
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

So close, next door's eternity
Yet he lies, raping vanity
Helpless, hopeless, hapless victims
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

Addict for love, lost all to lust
First a bee, then a big bang burst
Empty at base, overflows the brim
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

A billion lives lost to man's war
Pride, arrogance drinks at a bar
Here drunkards talk as a team
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

Where were you, times gone by
When Pharaoh attempted the sky
To walk his way up, a fool's dream
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

Richer than the earth, more patient
Faster than light, swiftly transient
A mind subtly superb, Lo! Supreme
Yet this life is all, but a dream.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

SILENT SOUNDS. #Limerick

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

She stands tall, taller than Mount Everest.
A burden, a liability, they thought at best.
Silence fills her world with sound sounds
Of which only signs translate, yes, outstand
Yet she breasts the tape first, ahead of the rest.

(c) 2014) Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

SUN KISSING A NEW DAY

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

We make each other win
We are us, floating in us
Not apart or away from us
Yesterday pools for today
And tomorrow, yet anew
Like the sun kissing a new day.

No one runs a race all by himself
No one competes against himself
No one wrestles, alone with himself
We pitch stuffs against another's
So abilities might find comparison
That qualities, its treasures show. .

Has anyone noticed yet
How ice bouys on water
Though it is water itself?
Eventually melting back
To its original state, water
In a spirit of togetherness.

So, live on bards
Breath in time, spank it
See who else comes out
Wearing a deserved crown
Riding atop a rare, beautiful
White uniformed unique unicorn.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

I FONDLY CALL HIM "...A GAMA LAFIYA"* ‪#‎Haiku‬

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

I'm so sad he's dead.
He wasn't even my e-friend
Sound soul, now he's gone.

(c) 2014 tijjani m. m.
all rights reserved

* "May you end off well"

YAWN INFECTION #Haiku

So natural, even Presidents do it... :)

... by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

Why is the yawn so
Infectious? Once expressed, it
Affects another.

(c)2014 tijjani m. m.
all rights reserved

A STRANGER AT HOME ~ (Our Dying Cultural Values)

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

She's dressed, yet naked,
"cozy as a spider sheltered in its web."

Feeling safe to stand attired,
not modest enough to sit covered.

Standing tall, telling tales on heels,
how can Grandma invite her to

Sit on a rafia mat? So aloft she remains,
a stranger in her own land.

Chin up high, her pride's her fortress.
Surely, only a bad bird blindly

Forget its way back to its nest.
"Kowa ya bar gida, gida ya bar shi"*

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

*Hausa adage - He who forgets his home, would equally be forgotten by that home.

1st MUHARRAM, 1436AH IS HERE!!! ‪#‎Limerick‬

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

Metamorphosis: A new second, to minutes, hours, day.
Giving our dreams, hopes, wings to fly, make hay.
As trial, uncertainty, pain, failure, team up with fear.
Joy, success, peace and happiness brims full the year.
Another 1st Muharram 1436AH, let's rejoice play and pray.

(c)01011436AH/24102014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved

FURA DA NONO

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"



"Fura da nono!" she'll loudly, hawkly announce
One of north's best delicacies, ten kobo to an ounce
Grounded balls of cooked, pounded millets, made to
Swim in a pool of raw, rich, refine white yoghouto.

Carried carefully, covered in a colourful calabash
Balancing the thrill precariously, a woman brash
Her regalia craftily sewn off a culture cherished
Where many have allowed theirs to be perished.

"Fura", farmed by men, made by women
Milk, milked by the skilled, skimmed often
Old original recipé, tested, trusted to quench
A midday hunger, served by a maiden wench.

Many add sweet to the mix, stirring to taste
Making buds water, as eyes savor the paste
But the old love it sugarfree, untinged, untainted
As each scoopful gets a stomach satisfactorily satiated.

They come from four corners of the world
Mankind adventurous, in search of its mold
Its aroma teases noses, then pleases them
It's king tongue that celebrates the palatable mayhem.

(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved