56 | The Lion King
Poems
My Butterfly; My Treasure
By Prince Ayewoh
Imagine an Oasis in the desert
Perched gingerly in the belly of acres of
dunes and powdery sand
The Sun , scorching
Water bottles since run dry
This is a battle of wits and resilience
Miles and acres of sand in all directions
Temperatures keep rising
The elements have suddenly become
hostile
My partner; my Carmel, resisting our an-
cient camaraderie
Parched throats, tired legs, exhausted
souls, trudging listlessly in this sea of heat
,sweat and sand
Many a traveler, along this road, hitherto
adamant, had Succumbed to the mys-
tery of the mirage
Brow beaten, drained and helpless
I must lumber on, my will is my strength,
my destination is my inspiration
The Oasis, I must achieve, all semblances
must dissolve
The hardships I must surmount, alive with
my life
For therein lies my life, my source
A city of glorious diadems, suppleness
and succor
My destiny awaits, to unravel and to
unleash
Vistas of relief and relish
With my Butterfly, my Treasure
In the Days of Yore
By Mathias Mogaji
In the days of yore
When needs were undefined and priori-
ties unclear
Aspirations filled our thoughts
As though we knew what lay ahead
Life became our resolve
To live each day in truth, by His grace
In the days of yore
When needs were undefined and priori-
ties unclear
Little by little we planned as boys
Our sweats were to bathe off despair
We dreamed dreams that made us soar
To explode! Festering hardship into thin air
In the days of yore
When needs were undefined and priori-
ties unclear
Smiling faces that bred love
Frowning ones were just a scare
Broadening horizon, we hope for more
To limit us, you could not dare!
Posterity
By Adejuwon Adegboyega
From the grand stands ahead
From the pedestals afore
You through time peep
The goings-on to see
Latently, within our loins you lay
As once we as progeny, were
In ancestors now cold and gone
Which route we’d someday go
Nature for planning weeps
As ills sumptuously feed
Patriotism coldly embalmed
Tomorrow, a mirage to many seem
History - replete with recurrences
Whisperers divine your thoughts
That fools loudly snub
Till their hearts callous wax
Hands feebly pray
Brains idly lay
Gloom wantonly prey
As dreams shyly stray
Someday in shame, may duck
At conscience’s courthouse
For posterity sure will demand
An answer of you and me
