Godwin Inyang's Blog

In all aspects of life, you’d find thorns and flowers: Sleazy shacks beside glittering city towers; Massive talents emerging from slimy slum gutters; Gilded jails for some starry-eyed gold-diggers.   Thorns and flowers among lovely sons and daughters; Thorns and flowers among great mothers and fathers; Thorns and flowers in the clock chiming the hours; Thorns and flowers as birds flap their wings and clean their feathers.   The hawk eyes the sparrow in sunshine and showers. In the red-light zone, you’d find these among the hustlers. Thorns and flowers among mediocrities and superpowers. Thorns and flowers from nursery to ivory towers.   Presidents, senators, governors and ministers. Thorns and flowers far and near, novices and masters. Thorns and flowers among shrine, mosque and church worshippers. Thorns and flowers in a breeze that turns a gale and hollers   At buildings, then everything on its path down it hammers. Thorns ...

‘What insensitive siblings!’ mouth did say; Letting its long-drawn-out seething overflow. ‘I, all the time give; out of it now I’d stay. If you can’t give, don’t take – that you must know.’   ‘You’d pick the food and eat,’ hand said in reply; ‘From now on I’m not a part of feeding you!’ ‘And you’d walk to market the food to buy,’ Foot added, ‘and feel too the pinch of the shoe.’   Eye, ear and nose joined in the rebellion And they turned to mock navel and hair. ‘I linked you all to mother at creation,’ Navel said, ‘so what nonsense now do you blare?’   ‘Go ahead you all,’ hair intoned, ‘yes, be bold. Leave me and see if you’d survive the cold!’ ‘In being one, no part is irrelevant,’ Nail at last quipped, ‘though the size is like an ant.’ (Verse is taken from my collection, #Colours_of_Life_Love_and_Faith)

  We all sleep but we don't have the same dreams; I come from the abyss but the stars I aim. The obstacles I've seen give me the screams But I have this resolve to surmount them. The sky is for things that have wings and fly And water for all the things that can swim; Season comes in all shades, plain wet or dry And dreams, just like physiques, come stout or slim. Though my path is blocked by a great mountain, I'm sure tunnelling in a big way through. Though beaten mercilessly by the rain, I keep my focus, there's nothing to rue. I come from the abyss but the stars I aim; Getting there is my all-consuming dream.

Once, we were wretchedly mud and thatch poor; Now, we step on concrete to the top floor.

Writing your ideas down is surreal But editing what you wrote down is ordeal.