ANTHOLOGY OF POEMS
WHISPERS OF BLACK SOULS
Understanding the human mind
Copyright 2021.
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Beautiful lyrics my soul whispers, A yielding ear my black soul lends. Olusola Balogun, whispers of black souls.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface
Acknowledgement
Dedications
1 Whispers of black souls
2 Ode to love
3 African mother
4 Abike mi
5 Round the table of love
6 Our Africa
7 The dilemma of a beggar
8 Agony
9 Painful past
10 Embattled nation
11 Us
12 Dreams of a lost man
13 At sixty
14 The Clarion cry
15 Within us
16 Dreams
17 Unanswered question
19 Life bleeds
20 Embattled nation
21 The war ranger
22 Life bleeds
Epilogue
Afterword
Short note by the poet Preface
Whisper is a sibilant voice or utterance which can be heard only by those near at hand. Black means a stain, a spot or a smudge. Soul is the spiritual, rational and immortal part in man that enables him to think and render out distinctive words of knowledge.
The literary meaning of whispers of black souls is the silent whispers of the human mind.
This anthology highlights the breadths and possibility of expressing poetry in inspiring and exciting ways.
The whispers of black soul is an anthology of poem that tells us about the state of the human mind. The human mind is full of love, hatred, happiness, joy, sadness and lots more. These poems are written based on the things that have been happening in our environments for the past decades and even the pandemic that has killed a lot of humans from 2020 till date.
These are poems that hover around love, the nature of man, God’s relationship with mankind, motherhood, past mistakes, pains and lots more.
Acknowledgements
I would like to express my sincere gratitude to God almighty for the grace He has granted unto me. I would like to say a big thank you to all those that have been there for me.
Thank you all for making this anthology a reality.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all those struggling to make names for themselves.
THE WHISPERS OF BLACK SOULS.
I failed to read the writings on the wall,
I never hearkened to the call of the prophet,
My squashed soul calls with a loud whisper.
I didn’t hearken to the whispers of the wind,
The breeze sounds sonorous,
It whispers good and bad deeds in my eardrums.
Beautiful lyrics my soul whispers,
A yielding ear my black soul lends.
My soul yells,
Unto my Maker.
He gathers,
He molds,
He breathes life into lumps of sand,
To create humans.
ODE TO LOVE
I lay in bed,
Ruminating on deeds of times to come.
The Rhapsody you and I will create,
Will always remain in our hearts.
Every melody will speak of us,
Every lyrics will write of our fate.
Our songs will be on repeat,
Our heart will dance to every beat that pops out.
Our mind will feel the gentle breeze of love,
We will hold each other tight till the end of time.
AFRICAN MOTHER
African mother!
Our lit candle in time of darkness,
My source of unbreakable happiness in times of sadness,
My soul Lifter in times when I breakdown,
My Ink when my pen runs dry,
Within her lies happiness and joy.
My Lubricant she is.
Without you,
Who would have conceived me?
You wipe away my tears when I weep,
You impact what modern education cannot,
You do the best of all things,
Even in times when you bleed.
You nurtured me,
When everyone else gave up on me.
Truly, motherhood is a mission.
ABIKE MI
The handwork of the Divine being
Like the radiance of the sun with a pleasing smile
Beautiful like a blossoming flower
Your eyes shining like the star!
Your teeth as white as snow
Making you glow
Your lips like that of a golden ribbon
How lovely they are when you speak!
Your voice orotund enough to wake me up from my slumber
The beat of your heart like the rhythm of music
Your hand like that of an angel
Soothing to my flesh when you touch.!
Your breath giving life to everything around you
Your body work is ivory-made
Your legs made of alabaster set upon based gold
My delectable maiden you are indeed!
ROUND THE TABLE OF LOVE
I pray we sit at the round table of love
Staring at each other
Remembering our good deeds
Laughing at our flaws.
We shall sit at the round table of love
Looking at the past of one another
Through the wall of brotherhood
Listening to the sprinkling sound of the rain
At the round table of love shall we sit
Writing down our beautiful memories
Smiling at the rain
As it sinks down the roof.
OUR AFRICA
It is morning in Africa,
The descendants of fighters;
Africa, the home of my ancestral being- a land of rare beauty,
Africa, a land of great men and women- a land of history.
Africa, a land of traditions and great talents,
Africa, a land of defined and artistic culture,
Africa, home of the black race.
We can’t run away from her because her blood runs in our veins,
In her music we thrive; in her culture we survive.
Is it her tradition and hunting expedition?
Is it her undisputed cultural phenomenon?
Is it her beauty or her prestige?
Is it because of her delicious meals and her festivals?
Is it the glowing of her sunset and beauty of her sunrise?
Is it her chilly weather?
Is it the collection of beautifully-made artifacts?
Surely, Africa is a place to be treasured.
Africa is the home of rare gems,
This Africa is our Africa.
.
THE DILEMMA OF A BEGGAR
Many times I see the gaze of a beggar in disappointment and hopelessness,
Their weird and awful look full of pity,
Waiting for a good Samaritan.
Some days are full of endless suffering,
While other days are full of joyous bubbles.
Many times,
I see them smiling, but with underlying agony,
Crying underneath, but with a beautiful smile on their faces,
Calling out for help.
Many walk around barefooted,
Many walk around with empty stomach,
Many walk around with the help of hand-made wheels,
Many have limited clothes,
Many barely feed,
Many stare at empty sky praying for the fall of an angel.
In faith, they gaze in buoyancy,
And hope for betterment in avidity.
AGONY
I tore my shirt in agony,Weeping and crying for my mistakes,
I knelt on stone,
Begging for mercy,
For my pitiful sins.
I rent my garment in torment,
For my sins that left a deep hole,
A very deep one within me,
I wept for my soul,
Because I was lost in thought.
I wept all day,
In repentance from my sins,
Waiting for the Divine being,
To come to my aid,
And yes, He did!
PAINFUL PAST
Lost in the world of thinking,
We stare at that dark and empty space;
Lost in words and action,
Taken afar from the world of sanity.
Broken and staring at the moon,
We don’t even understand who we are becoming;
We are lost in our painful past,
Our past so pathetic and ugly.
Unforgettable memories,
No one has the idea how hard it was,
We keep running from our torment,
But it never kept its distance.
I am shattered into millions of tiny pieces,
Why can’t I put it together?
Pieces of our being got lost,
Never to be seen again.
Now those experiences linger in my mind,
A part I can’t get rid of,
A path I can never erase,
Because our past can’t be changed.
EMBATTLED NATION
There aren’t enough words to express my pain.
Not enough words to inscribe our tears on a wall.
The eagle cries at our loss,
The horses neigh at our tears,
Niger overflows cause of our lost peace,
Benue erupts at the drops of blood.
The grasses have gone red-stained with blood,
The powerful eagle is now lame,
The labor of our heroes past crashes daily,
The land flows with the blood of anger and sorrow.
The land we love so much,
Overflows with innocent blood,
This same land,
Has been raped of dignity,
My soul feels devastated.
In the dead of the night,
I could feel the pains of pains,
I could hear cries of cries,
The underworld sighs at our loss.
We take our meals with sorrows,
Niger and Benue flow with innocent blood,
Garnished with lost dreams,
We pray for a better way out of this.
All we seek is a better nation,
Not a sacrificial altar,
All we seek is a country,
That we can always be proud of,
Not an embattled nation.
US
These days have been filled with smiles,
These smiles I will frame on a wall,
These beautiful moments I will inscribe,
On a wall, to have them remembered.
Later years,
I pray we both see the sunset,
I pray we both see the sunrise,
When our lips produce the most pulchritudinous sounds.
Our museum will be,
A reminder of memories beheaded,
A reminder of our fights,
A reminder our smiles together,
A reminder of our disagreements,
A reminder of our kiss,
A reminder of the things we did,
A reminder of our love,
A reminder of our best moments,
A reminder of the roses,
A reminder of pains from thorns.
In that moment,
We will be grateful,
That we made it through our pains and doubt
DREAMS OF A LOST MAN
Heads bent,
Hands on knee,
Time wasted,
Oblivion and hopelessness set in,
The dreams are now lost in flash point.
Before this journey, I was excited,
The things I dreamt of,
Were going to be birthed,
But
The year began, I was overwhelmed,
First phase gone, nothing to rely on
Time ticked, the sixth phase of the year came,
I wasn’t going to give up.
The circle of the year is complete,
The twelfth phase is complete,
The random state of mind capsized,
No more hope
It is all finished!
AT SIXTY
As the firework burst around in the sky,
in different patterns,
As the singing goes on,
in different sonorous voices,
The day gets longer with cheers,
Oh! Another historic day,
It is another independence,
NIGERIA at 60!
Today marks the birthday of Nigeria,
A giant among nations.
It calls for a big celebration,
A historic feasting and jollity.
Nigeria, my motherland,
I celebrate you.
Nigeria, a land of great beauty,
Nigeria, a land of brave fellows,
Nigeria, a land of respected traditions,
Sixty years ago,
Freedom became ours.
It’s been years of laughter,
Years of cry and pain,
Years of endurance,
Of a lot of hardship.
We have conquered,
Both good and bad times,
We have prevailed.
On this day,
We celebrate our freedom,
We remember the martyrs,
Let’s not forget our fallen soldiers,
That have gone to rest,
In the line of duty.
We are grateful,
For their bravery.
To those who work tirelessly,
To keep the country in order,
We say a big thank you.
At 40,
We kept hoping,
At 50,
We throbbed in pain and tears,
At 60,
We are crippled.
A giant at sixty but still crawling!
Arise,
Oh! Nigeria,
Let’s put down our loads,
Of corruption and greed.
Rise up,
Oh! Nigeria,
Let’s thrust Africa forward,
’cause we are the giant of Africa.
Arise,
Let’s put Nigeria to her place of dignity,
honor and respect.
Let us learn from our hurtful past,
And create a better future.
Together, we can make a better Nigeria.
May He heal us from our sores,
And bless our great nation.
THE CLARION CRY
I thought we were made by the same God,
To love one another,
I thought we were born of the same race,
To dream of a good nation.
We fed from the same wine,
Fed from the same mortar,
Yet you inflict wounds on us,
And scars deeper than heartbreak.
Is this hatred or love?
We keep striving for a better country,
With love, but to no avail,
It is all in vain.
I feel broken in two, left with a heavy heart,
I feel downcast, my heart bleeds,
My eyes wail,
My pen overflows with anguish.
I thought we were supposed to be brothers,
To live under the same roof,
Our homes are no longer safe,
Heaven is now the safest place to be.
WITHIN US
Within us lies love; and,
Within us lies hatred.
Within us lies joy; and,
Within us lies sadness.
Within us lies hope; and,
Within us lies hopelessness.
Within us lies trust; and,
Within us lies distrust.
Within us lies beauty; and,
Within us lies ugliness.
DREAMS
Across the road lies old rusty dreams,
Across the field lies unchaste dreams,
Across the streams lies flushed dreams,
Across the dam lies overflowed dreams,
Across the empty field lies rigid paths.
When I close my eyes, my dreams are blind,
When I dream, my dreams are just dreams,
When I sleep, my dreams sleep,
When I am down, my dreams are down.
UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
I woke up months ago with lots of questions lingering in my mind
There are lots of questions to ask
There are lots of answers waiting to be heard
Many loopholes to be examined.
The sojourn of life has just begun.
Why do many seek to know the conception of their problems than to face the ones about to come?
Why are lots of people waiting for the long-awaited Armageddon?
Why have many of us given our best to lots of things with no positive outcome?
No more hours of dreaming about a luxurious lifestyle because many have given up
Why do many of us expect miracle without stepping up?
Why is education filled with hardship but no job at the end?
Why is it that good people never live long but the vipers and the wolves live long like a mahogany tree?
Why is it that life looks calm and quiet but full of problems?
As at today, no one has given answer to these questions.
Many of these questions will need answers which involve climbing a rugged mountain higher than mount Kilimanjaro.
When shall I find the answers to my questions?
THE WAR RANGER
At the hallway of an airport,
There stood a little boy held by his mom,
Holding a colorful flag in his hand, smiling and happy,
Waiting for the return of his dad.
After a long period of standing and waiting for his dad,
He became anxious, confused and unhappy,
He didn’t understand why his dad hasn’t shown up,
From war.
He went home hopeless that day with his mom,
With tearful eyes and running nostril feeling dense,
And filled with fury.
On getting home,
He couldn’t sleep because he was anxious,
Obstinate and annoyed that his father failed,
To fulfill his promise of returning.
For months, he kept on going to the airport,
Hoping that one day, his dad would show up.
After months of waiting,
On a lovely summer eve,
A stranger putting on an army attire entered into their compound,
And handed a letter over to him.
He was anxious to know the content of the letter…
On opening the letter with anxiety,
He saw the handwriting of his dad.
“My little man,
If you are going through this letter,
I want you to know I am either dead or lost in this war.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am no longer of this world,
I am a thousand miles away,
I am in another mysterious world.
Remain strong and happy.
I want you to know I died a hero to save this country.
Your mom is your new dad now,
Follow everything she tells you.
My little man, farewell,
I leave you with a kiss,
Farewell son.”
At the end of the letter he wrote,
RANGERS LEAD THE WAY.
LIFE BLEEDS RED
I feel broken in two,
I am down in love.
I feel sick at heart,
Left with a bleeding soul.
My hand shivers,
At my wrong doings;
My eyes wail,
At our misdeeds.
My pen ran out of ink,
Words are hard to comprehend,
My pen is broken;
My magical pen is gone.
Life is a pretty image painted with pain,
Life is a sculptural piece,
Carved out of fierce pain .
The painted picture of life called reality is didactic.
EPILOGUE
I hope these poems have been able to make you understand the state of the human mind. I hope that this anthology has made us realize the way the human mind lives. I hope reading this was worth your time.
Thank you for your time and patience. Thanks for making time to read through.
AFTERWORDS
Balogun Olusola is an upcoming writer, a poet, a script writer and a big time lover of ART. He believes art is one of the fundamental keys that made the planet earth what it is today.
This anthology of poems is to make people believe in the power of the human mind. The anthology is titled whispers of black souls to make us realize the ideal difference in the way the human mind evolves.
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