Pen Minds Poems

From the springs of deep minds


Countless times, have we sought for moments
as this,
gently purifying the fruits of our lips,
That the untold truths of our humble hearts
speaks forth;
Calling our fathers the name that they are:
The heroes of our world.

King of our hearts,
thy seed is the bedrock of motherhood,
Thy fatherhood, the wings we fly with as
As wives, we honour your rulership,
As children, we value your leadership.
And as the head of our homes,

We cherish the golden treasures you give to us;
your love, your time, and yourself.

Father, papa, cover, lover,
Source, protector, provider,
Seed bearer, life giver, care-taker, bread
Strengthener, leader, ruler and our superman.
Many great words describe the beauty of your
But, I… I choose to call you: father of today,

Father of our world… our hero and

D – Determined
A – Admirable and
D – Driven
We may deny a million truths, but this:
There is no better world without a dad.
To every dad in the world, you are cherished
and loved, always

“Strengthener, leader, ruler and our superman.
Many great words describe the beauty of your


My heart calls for my king,
Let his red roses be placed at my bosom,
and sweet perfume be lavished on my skin,
That I may bear upon me the sweetness of his fragrance,
And the charm of his radiance.

Let my apparel never betray me,
That the king ever treasures me as his beauty.
Let the elegance of my appearance
be to him a zest of relevance.
Let the brilliance of his affection
be my chant for kingdom advance,
And the sweetness of his love
be the decorum of my dance.

My king, I have come with salience and embrace,
To wear thy ring,
Rave and sing,
And adorn thy feet.
Until all I can ever see is the love you bring


A great writer, Chinua Achebe, once said:
“there was a country”
I say “there is a future”.
A future that speaks life,
And tells less stories of strife.
A future that sings ‘hope’,
And makes a joyful noise
as bad prospects elope,
A future of peace and not pieces,
A future of order that permits
zero blunder and disorder.
A future that writes your beauty
with pens far from ugly.

The structure of this future
lies in two simple words;
You and I.
Yes! We are the future.
And together, we shall climb high,
Together, we shall break and make records.
Only together, can we stand tall
to achieve the perfect couture of our culture.

While pacing to and fro
in deep thoughts of ‘Africa tomorrow’,
My mind dances to the tunes of the land of history,
To celebrate great heroes
that worked in the magic of mystery.
Speaking of the likes of;
Patrice Lumumba, Kwame Nkrumah, Nnamdi Azikwe,
And of course, Nelson Mandela.
Indeed! The works of these men
still makes heavy noises
In the lands of Africa.

Great leaders of tomorrow,
If these men, who were born
with one head like ours,
Could achieve such great things for a great nation,
And a great society,
Then you and I can achieve greater things
for a greater nation,
a greater generation, and a greater society.
Alas! The land mark of this compound matter
is to remind us that we are the true elements of the

“The structure of this future
lies in two simple words;
You and I.”


In the atmosphere of joy, there is love.
Like a river it flows in the hearts it abodes.
There is more to uncover in the fullness of joy.

Many are yet to enjoy the greenness of life,
Because with a bitter heart,
They trample on stones and stumble upon

What is life without joy?
What is hope if it doesn’t reside in the bowels
of joy?
Why plot scenes of sorrow or plant seeds of
When His joy can be your fullness?

Embrace His joy and let him be your life
As you swim in His river of joy.


This script is pathetic,
As the pen scribbles to tell you it’s story.
When the songs of Katherine came to my window,
I thought it was weird,
as she was one who never saw through the meadow.
Yet I wallowed in her songs.
Why sing songs of love and peace,
when all we see are rifles,
and its sprawling shadow?

She paid no attention to my empty words,
The more I yelled,
the more she responded with chants of love.
I thought it was bizarre,
so I denied her food,
hoping she would suck in wrath.
But she chanted more love.
I should have responded with love,
but didn’t know how to,
hence, I loathed her guts.

I troubled her,
and denied her every moment of peace.

My words were like a blade,
cutting through her skin to see it bleed
Still, she chanted love, joy, and peace.
I should have seen through her heart,
But was stuck with my ego and soreness.
Couldn’t she see the aches in blueprints?
So why fake a life of love, joy, and peace?

If I knew better, I should never have dared,
But in the coldness of my heart, I dug her grave.
Still, her last words to me were chants of love.
My heart bled,
as I travelled far north to hide my shame.
Her death drew me out of my chains.
Once, I was blind, but now I see.
Once, I knew only the coldness of life,
now I know only the fullness of His love.
And everyday seems a new day,
to chant His grace and love.

Romans 5:5… “And hope maketh not ashamed, the love of
God is shed abroad in my heart.”

“My words were like a blade,
cutting through her skin to see it bleed
Still, she chanted love, joy, and peace.”


Like the clouds of beauty
surrounds the clown of triviality,
fear has bemoaned huts with her dark stand

Oh! How I hate its sense of guts,
a bewildered shrine that squeezes man into its hut

I curse her gongs
I curse her tongues
She is dark and naughty,
and can never bring me to nothing

Seize fear this day,
and throw her in the bottomless asylum.
You have been given a Kingdom of freedom,
and a sword of faith,

Learn God’s truth!
And by his truth, you shall be free
So if fear comes searching for you in her hut,
disappoint her quest,
That she never finds you,
not even in another world.

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Poetry at its best calls forth our deep being. It dares us to break free from the safe strategies of the cautious mind; it calls to us, like the wild geese, as Mary Oliver would say, from an open sky. It is a magical art, and always has been. –

Poetry is so important because it helps us understand and appreciate the world around us. Poetry’s strength lies in its ability to shed a “sideways” light on the world, so the truth sneaks up on you. No question about it. Poetry teaches us how to live. –