EDEN BENIBO
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EDEN BENIBO

Writer, Story teller & thought Leader

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Monthly Archives

October 2017

Word-Perfect Monday (WPM)

Prices For The Prize

by Eden Benibo October 30, 2017
  • Prices For The Prize
    Having gone this far…
    Never pay attention to those who sell discouragements
    Never buy any idea from those that hawk dirty facts packaged in white lies
    Never waste the currency of time on cheap talks

Never struggle for respect,
Just stay respectable
Never let pride into your heart,
It will only destroy your art
Never give up on yourself,
Else you’ll get down once again
Never say never???
Say never!
When challenges tell you to quit
Say never!
When they tell you to trade integrity for fame
Say never!
When they tell you to bow to the limitations
Scream never!
When they tell you to be contented with past glory
‘Always’ say never!
‘When’ they say your dreams are too far to be reached.

Never say “never say never”
For there are times in life,
You REALLY need to say-
NEVER!!!

-E D E N

October 30, 2017 103 comments
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EXPRESS~SHUN

How I Discovered The Writer In Me -By- Collins Jatto

by Eden Benibo October 27, 2017

Collins Jatto🔔
A gifted soul, whose heart is plunged in a quenchless desire to acquire knowledge. Collins is currently an undergraduate studying Crop science at the University of Benin (UNIBEN).
He has walked through the slippery aisle of life, in search of PURPOSE and finally found it at the edge of where he least expected.
Paradoxically, he developed an intense passion for writing; which is an art he initially disliked.
In his words “Writing became my breath and the voice I cry through…”
Today, Collins stands as one of the rising voices in Nigeria, spilling inks encased in truth and positivity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s another Friday!!! Today on Express~Shun
We have a highly motivating story By Collins Jatto
Here’s the full story~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How I Discovered The Writer In Me

I recently read a book by JOHN C MAXWELL “How successful people think” while reading this book I saw a quote He cited “learning to write is learning to think” this got me thinking -” what writing really is to me”.
You know the lay man would say writing is an activity where one is allowed to express his or her thought,ideas or opinion by written words but to me I would say writing is creating a world and painting it with words; enabling people picture and hold it with their thoughts.It’s a task and craft that involves careful handling of words.We live in a world where words are shot in to the atmosphere before a gun is ever triggered.Since the history of man, written words have played crucial roles in transforming individuals and also causing wars between nations.Words are the air the human mind breathes and a misunderstood written word may end up being a sword to the minds of men.I do tell people words spoken once may be forgotten and never recovered but words written once never looses its life,it gives sight to the mind of a reader in the present age and it’s a light that leads the way to a greater innovation in the mind of a reader in ages to come.Words written never misses the next generation.This is why ” writer’s are unique people whose words are clothed with their soul(deep felt moral and emotional nature) and passed as written message to the world.That’s why great writers though dead; still live in their books.

There’s a popular adage which says “a young boy who constantly follows his father to the farm will soon engage in the act of planting” I was once a boy who never loved writing but I knew was gifted with the art. At first, writing to me, was like cooking without using seasoning. I couldn’t express the writer in me, even when I tried so hard to do it, until a book titled “Understanding Potential s” by Dr Myles muroe found me.Yes ,truely it did found because at that time in my life I was preparing for my post-utme and it was three weeks before my exams so I had no intention to read other books apart from my textbooks but I couldn’t help the way a friend of mine who was also preparing for the exams read the book with zeal.I was curious and I needed to understand potentials too, so I joined the race.”All men are sent to this world with limitless credits but few draw to their full extent” this quote from his book inspired me to discover the writer in me and more.From that day writing took a different form in me as Anais Nin would say “If you don’t breathe through writing,cry out in writing or sing in writing then don’t write because our culture has no use for it”. Writing became my breath and the voice I cry through.As a result of my desire to improve my writing skills, reading became the tool I used in learning to write.I began to see the spirit in every writer’s words.Reading became an avenue for me to dine mentally with the men of great intellect. As I constantly consulted them I became aware that inspiration doesn’t come alone while we walk or talk it becomes clearer while we work(write).I could remember clearly that my first fable was born out of my boredom on social media. I decided to write on anything then the topic ” the sun,moon and stars of ones life”came and surprisingly I passed it as message on what’s app and the replies were lovely I became motivated to do more.The inspiration came the moment I decided to write.

One of the hurdles a writer would encounter is framing each sentences and passing the message in a way the readers would relate to,it’s like creating a world crafted with words from the readers mind as Maya angelou would say “the idea is to write so that people can hear it and slide through their brain into their heart.Also as a writer one would have to be a great thinker to create something beyond the ubiquitous write-ups .In all, I believe writing is an art that breeds change and it’s not limited by a person’s age,it’s fun!.Write to create a change in people’s lives and create a change that can be written in the tablets of men’s heart by your deeds.
Collins.J

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We look forward to seeing you shine brighter!
Glow on Collins🥂
Greater Heights!!

 

October 27, 2017 12 comments
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Word-Perfect Monday (WPM)

PASSION:THE KEY TO THRIVING IN YOUR CAREER

by Eden Benibo October 23, 2017

Originally published by She Leads Africa
There is no career without challenges, regardless of who you are. The only difference between a career that glows; radiating success at all ends and a career that blows; experiencing failures back- to- back, is the intensity of ‘fuel’ used for both the latter and the former. Here, the ‘fuel’ needed is the passion, the zeal and the will to either glow or blow.

It takes more!
It’s not enough to only have dreams and visions for your career, it’s pertinent to also have a driving force which will lead you to those goals in the long run. In other words, It’s not enough to know what you want to do, you’ve got to know what makes you do what you do because this is what will keep you going when the heat gets hotter.

According to Chika Akinwale, founder of Cambridge Leadership Academy, “A vision is fueled by a deep desire or conviction within”. This is where passion comes in.

Passion keeps you going…
The fact is, challenges will come at every stage of one’s career, but, the truth is that, you have the power to either be burned by the heat or go through that heat and come out refined.

Going through the heat is definitely not an easy task in any career; this is why you need to be constantly fueled by passion. The awesome truth about it is that it is not static. It drives you to thrive, even in stagnant times.

Passion is like a stronghold, when the heat burns at whatever stage in your career, you will gradually rise above the ashes of your fears.

…the language of go-getters
Look through the tunnel of time past, you’ll see stories of great men and women who failed countless times in their various careers, yet, in the long run; they became world champions.

These achievers were definitely not of the same age, race or gender; they only spoke a common language; the language of passion. The fact is, they failed at one point or the other. But, the beautiful truth is that, they went through the heat from the kiln and came out stronger, with well baked triumphs!

The big picture
Here’s the big picture: the same heat that makes gold out of a career; can fold that same career. People go through the same challenges and come out with different results. The big question here is: what makes the difference?

Passion!The difference between those who come out with solid results and others who are left with melted goals.

It takes passion to not just keep holding on, but to keep taking positive steps inspite of the heat, until you get your desired results.

It’s all on you!
Despite popular belief, the main hindrance to career success is not necessarily financial setbacks or a lack of resources. The main hindrance is you. ‘The you’ with little or no passion for what you do.

The driving force to your career goals can be achieved efficaciously when your ‘fuel tank’ is filled with passion. This will only come effortlessly when you love what you do. When you love what you do, failure won’t be an option. Your passion will keep your eyes on what lies beyond the heat.

Your passion may not prevent challenges, but it won’t let challenges stop you either.

Even with passion, you’ll still ‘sweat’ (that’s why challenges can be synonymous with ‘heat’). It’s high time we understood that without passion, one will definitely be discouraged when the heat in any career starts to burn.

You need not be afraid of challenges, only be alarmed when you have a dwindling passion. With passion, you may fall on your face, but you will have the energy to keep rising.

At the end of it all, the choice is yours! To either glow or blow, to either be refined or burnt; but, always remember, beyond the heat lies a stronger, more fulfilled and refined you!

Eden Benibo

October 23, 2017 27 comments
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Aloud

The Pieces of a circle-By- Egonu Benjamin-Mario

by Eden Benibo October 17, 2017

Egonu Benjamin-Mario🔔
Here’s a multi talented graduate of Economics from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN) .
Mario is a young creative writer who stands unwaveringly on the soil of positivity, with the courage and zeal to transcend having the gift of writing; as he also constantly nurtures this gift beyond all odds.
He is a poet who strongly believes that “the strokes of words paint images and at the same instant give life which never dies, unless those words forgotten”.
As ‘days bleed into years’, the hands of time incessantly reveal his footprints on the track of many literary accomplishments.
Aside his writing skills,he is also very good in the art of editing.
Editing not just the “writeups” but also, the “wrongdoings”. Replacing, negativity with positivity in the chronicles of Africa and the world at large.
We look forward to seeing Mario~
Glow on!🔥
Unremittingly impacting lives with the flames of positivity🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s the creatively knitted short story written by Benjamin-Mario popularly known by the pen name I_am_Mario_Cruzo

Pieces of a Circle
It was his Freshman {First} year in the university and Kennix (Ken) a handsome young guy, was walking briskly to the faculty hall to complete his clearance exercise. He was in the same haste as were other freshmen students of his set. The idea was to get to the hall in time in order to secure a good position on the queue in order to complete his clearance early enough.

In that mental state of anxiety and absent mindedness( he was literary lost in his thoughts of what eventualities his university days had in store for him), he didn’t notice the pretty young lady approaching him. He bumped into her. Only then was he sharply pulled back to reality. His eyes came in contact with that of the pretty girl who looked slightly dishevelled and in a state of shock. This was because she too had been lost in her thoughts as she was hurrying back to her hostel to get a document she needed for the clearance.

He issued a heartfelt apology to the girl whose name he soon came to know was Amanda (Mandy). They exchange contact and as the months go by, they get closer. Love grew from their friendship and so the story goes…they started dating. Although they were in different departments, they were an inseparable pair. They were both from very wealthy family backgrounds. So they were supposedly a perfect match.

In the second semester of their Sophomore {Second} year in the university, Kennix goes late to a particular general lecture and finds no vacant seat. A very loveable and gorgeous damsel offers to share her seat with him. He appreciates the gesture and after the lecture, he tries to find out a little more about her. He finds out that this charitably caring girl is called Leila and is from a Middle-class background.They get talking and slowly but steadily, they become very best of friends. Coupled with the fact that they were in the same department.

Leila as a very pretty girl has her fair share of romantic advances being made towards her by guys of different levels and class. Two of such guys are Breezy(a very rich and rugged cultist {Black axe}and Max ( A very intelligent genius and promising young man, with good moral upbringing). She turns all of them down. Because at this point she was already in love with Ken.

She finds it hard to let her feeling known to him directly but just shows it by her actions and unusual care towards him. Ken, on his own part, loves her too but couldn’t make it known because he was already in a relationship with Mandy.

Nancy, Leila’s best friend, keeps on advising and encouraging her to make her feelings known to Ken before it gets too late. But all of her advice falls on deaf ears. This is because Leila is afraid of being rejected or maybe because she wasn’t so sure if he feels the same way about her (She didn’t wanna look like a fool or a desperate girl).

In their Penultimate{third} year in the university, Leila finally opens up to Ken. He is caught in a dilemma of having to choose between Mandy and Leila. He loves Mandy too much to let her go (having come a long way with her) while Leila seems like every guy’s dream girl. They both decide to play along and see how long it lasts. Leila starts visiting him at his lodge occasionally. On one of those occasions, Mandy decides to pay Ken a surprise visit and meets ken with Leila. Ken lies to her that Leila is his Cousin. Mandy is temporarily satisfied with the explanation but becomes alarmed when the rate of visits by Leila increases.

Leila relates the recent happenings to Nancy, who warns her to be very careful. One thing leads to another, and Ken decides to propose to Mandy so as to calm her down and disprove her suspicion. Unknown to Ken, on one of those occasions when Leila had visited him and they got Intimate, she had been impregnated by him.

Leila starts noticing Significant changes in her body and a delay in her menstrual cycle. After the second month and her flow wasn’t forthcoming, she becomes alarmed. She confides in Nancy, who is equally shocked at the sad circumstance in which her best friend was. She goes for a pregnancy test and the suspicion is made true. She is 2 months and a week pregnant!!!

She informs Ken about the situation at hand, and he strongly persuades her to abort the foetus. All to no avail. Along the line, Mandy finds out about the secret relationship and the pregnancy. She breaks up with Ken and leaves him shattered.

Ken decides to channel his love and attention towards Leila who is now in her sixth month of pregnancy. A month later, Leila goes into premature labour. She delivers a baby boy but looses a lot of blood. She dies some hours later, due to complications during birth and severe haemorrhage, with these last words to Ken, ” I have loved you until my last breath. Let our Son remind you of our Love!”

The premature baby boy is kept in the Clinical Incubator till he becomes mature enough to survive at normal room temperature.

Ken takes full responsibility of the child and spends the rest of his days mourning the death of Leila.

The End.

I_am_Mario_Cruzo

October 17, 2017 18 comments
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Word-Perfect Monday (WPM)

The Time Is Start O’ Clock

by Eden Benibo October 16, 2017

It’s start o’ clock⏰ No time for excuses
“Step into the future today”

It’s time for our stories to be retold,
For even in a world that folds gold like bedsheets
And makes cold an outfit
Even in a world,
That washes health like faded jeans
As sicknesses appear to win
The subject here remains,
You’re not an object of pity set on ‘pills’-
Always to be bedridden

No!! You’re a city set on a hill
That cannot be hidden!
You’re a light to your world
So hop out from all dark thoughts
And shine bright like the light that you are
You’re a trailblazer ( hey no hyping, no time for that..)
So, set all setbacks ablaze
And eraze all traces of past cast.
It’s A New Dawn!
So, wake up!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Break free from the claws of self pity~~…a piece coming up soon..😉
#anticipate

It’s a new week, do not forget to put a smile on someone’s face…

🍃 Glow on🥂🍃

October 16, 2017 12 comments
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EXPRESS~SHUN

MY Journey Thus Far As A Writer-By- Ekpenyong Peace Henry

by Eden Benibo October 13, 2017

Ekpenyong Peace Henry🔔
A young lady I describe as an epitome of strength untold. She is an up-and-coming African writer, studying English language at the University of Lagos (UNILAG). Her life has shown that behind those beautifully written words of a writer, lies a heart that has been through all and sundry.
Growing up in a society where the art of writing is regarded as the ‘third side of a coin’ which is believed to have little or no ‘significance’, the choice to write becomes a choice to fight; fighting a rescheduled schedule of war in a battle field where arrows of deterrent words fly by day and swords of a dilapidated economy puncture the zeal and will to write not just the rite but the right.
Rather than confine herself to the claws of self pity. Peace has chosen to infuse positivity (through her words) into not just her life but the lives of those around her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A lovely piece written by Peace will be ‘the pioneer’ on ~ EXPRESS~SHUN today.
Here’s the inspiring story of her life as writer~~~~~~~~~~~~

MY JOURNEY THUS FAR AS A WRITER
I was asked to do this write up. It’s a challenge for me because it is meant to reveal my interest in writing, reawaken me and prepare me for new discoveries. Am I set for this? Yes, I think so, Yes, I know so.
My journey as a writer didn’t just start automatically. I didn’t just know I’m a writer, I wasn’t born one either, though the gift of writing was deposited in me by God, never knew this at the beginning of my life but with time I got to realize this.
HOW IT ALL BEGAN?
I first realized that I loved writing in my Junior Secondary school days. I loved it when the teacher dictates in class, oh I really like it even up till this moment. I also hated it when the teacher writes on the chalkboard because I barely could see it, it was later I discovered I had eye defects. I became the “fastest finger” in class because I could grasp things fast, immediately the teacher gets to his last sentence I am there and just when he is about to start the next sentence I begin with him. This is where it all started for me, I became excited and it was very interesting because being a new student I became the teacher’s favorite.*** I was later introduced to Literature in English and English Language, a platform where I could explore my mind, imagination to paint a picture either in essay writing, letter writing or in retelling and analyzing a story of a novel or poem. I enjoyed every bit of it because it was my foundational stage. I wasn’t mindful of the grades it earned me but was more fascinated about my write ups and storyline. I asked myself times without number if I was the one who wrote each piece.
Little did I know that these experiences was just a stirring of the waters deep inside me and there was more on my inside yet to be discovered. It became difficult to attain admission or entrance into a University in Nigeria. After several attempts, I got discouraged, depressed, broken and in despair. Loved ones didn’t help matters, they constantly nagged, complained, insulted and compared me with my other mates who had gone off to school and I became very frustrated. I locked myself in, was reserved, and resolved to self pity and condemnation because I wasn’t encouraged. Then I discovered BOOKS- Motivational and Inspirational books, they built me up encouraged me, gave me a reason to be hopeful and never give up. These boosted me and I became tough, in a bid to defend myself from constant deterrent words from those around me, I took to writing. I poured out my disappointment, frustration and grief on them and told them why I needed encouragement more than insults, they realized their mistakes and stylishly came to apologize but not the real way though. I felt light and free because I was able to unburden myself . Emotionally this was a healing process for me, I later channeled my negative writing habit I had and developed it into a positive one. I started writing to people on their birthdays. I’d write a whole profile about families, friends, and other close pals. I’d write about why I thought they stand out, why I cherished them and why I believed they’d go far in life and sometimes I even showed them steps in which they can attain these heights. How I did this I couldn’t explain? This new exercise was a breaking point for me because I felt fulfilled when I made people laugh, cry and gave them hope and encouraged. I also was amazed at my choice of words, arrangement of paragraphs and the content of my message amazed me. I realized I had great potentials so I made this a lifestyle. Every birthday, only few people got these though but they were close to my heart and my style of writing appalled me. I wrote people’s names into acronyms and I explained each letters in-depth. Some returned with tears in their eyes and appreciation cause they never knew or saw themselves the way I painted and described them. It gave me a sense of fulfillment, joy, happiness and I felt honored.
This was the start of something new for me, a turning point, so I made writing an hobby, a daily thing. I spoke on several issues like the nation, life, youths, lifestyle, children, parenting, love, death etc. I posted some of these on my Facebook page. Friends started insulting me “you can write for Africa”. Also got the opportunity to speak to youths in church through the “Youth Ushering Unit” which I spoke passionately. Ideas kept flowing in daily, I kept writing and if I got an urgency in whatever I had to write no matter how hard I procrastinated I wrote it down. I kept reading books and developed a reading lifestyle, I opened myself up to opportunities, attended seminars, trainings and was forever available to do anything to improve myself and writing skills.
When all is said and done I hope to be perfect, skilled, and more improved. A better version of who I am presently. I am a work in progress, open to new ideas, new adventures and experiences, new skill and development. I believe I’d get to where God has set for me if I keep pressing.
Thanks for making me do this. It was a time of refreshing and rehabilitation for me. God Bless You!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wow!
God bless you to dear!!
Did I mention that Peace has a sonorous voice?
Yes!! She sings too!!
Glow on Peace
The world is in due need of the hue in you.
Let it shine!🥂

October 13, 2017 16 comments
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Aloud

Writers They Are!-By- Mathias Bright

by Eden Benibo October 11, 2017

Mathias Bright🔔
Gratefully, here is a young man who understands the unconcealed secret of life, knowing fully well that life goes beyond what I call ‘myopic goals coated in selfish interest’.
To this end,  Mathias is an entrepreneur cognisant of the fact that life is veritably about the positive impacts we make in the lives of others.
He is a certified programme producer, a corporate MC, and a motivational speaker, who is currently a media pundit in the making.
He has an undiluted passion for inspiring people and making a positive difference in life.
Here in this writing community, the only fault we have with Mathias is that he is a creative writer by default. We’ve read some of his works and agreed that more of these salted words and needed in a seemingly tasteless world.
It’s in you Mathias!
Hearts need this art..
Let it flow
We look forward to reading more of your poems and articles.
Flow & Glow on!!!🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s the beauteous piece titled~ Writers They Are! By Mathias Bright

They call them writers, those that cling unto minutes running into hours just to weave phrases,that give unimaginable seldom answers to questions, unanswered.

Writers! They are those that go on a voyage of brain racking,Penning, just to ensure the supremacy of peace in the midst of mayhem.
Literature they are, those that ascertain that their linguistic unit makes no err when inks paint white plain just to correct wrongs rightly.
Scribers they are, those that sigh in the midst of mental frazzle-ness,but kept on in all vigor, the essence of upholding the placard of “The pen is mightier than the sword”.

“Wor(l)d” revolvers they are, those that in-scribe in letters,to resuscitate unconscious-consciousness, to make
Un-mattered matters matter.
Foreseers they are, those that, then! Now! They scribe,penning the future of the present past, yet unseen.
Fulfillers they are,those that write to live,just to live to write.

And this is me, with passionate nothingness trudge to daily live and act the first seven stanzas of this piece,just to be numbered among men who live by pen.
Living to create legacies untold but written in white and black, to the whites and blacks.

Me it is! who without grains to chew decides to pen for men to earn informed knowledge.
Sleep-waking in brainwaves, scribing, just to make out something out of nothing to fill up societal nothingness.

Here I am, plunging daily into stream of penning consciousness, just to have a memoir of a scriber attached to my name.
Living to always remember that we are called writers not because we write,but because we rightfully rewrite the tomorrow of today just to have the right world.

It’s ME! Breathing never to be out of ink to say that, we were! we are! and would always be, RIGHTERS!

October 11, 2017 2 comments
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Aloud

S C A R S -By- Rotimi Adeniyi (El Cypher)

by Eden Benibo October 10, 2017

Rotimi Adeniyi🔔
A soul that has the courage to feel everything so deeply, cutting through the crust of words unspoken. Aside his writing skills, he is also blessed with righting skills. He stands as one of the heroes of our time, thriving in positivity and setting free caged truth.
Looking through the tunnel of time past, Rotimi with a pseudonym El Cypher has proven time and again to be an epitome of unfaltering integrity, to this end we look forward to hearing more of his success stories…🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s a deep and beautiful poem~
S C A R S written by Rotimi 

How shall I sing this melody
with glued tongue twisted
by nature’s pride,
which corridor is etched with tracks of teeth.

Where shall I bury this skin?
in a grave of darkness to shade
its shame or in a cupboard of
desolated cocoon to hear it crumble.

What makes the night a knight,
if not a thousand tripping stars…
What makes the day a pathway
for the head to lead the league
of legs
if not the burn and churn of the sun..

But,
what mystery is laced up my face
to pouch it in my skin’s hide?
If beauty is ever a human;
tell me I’ve lost a destination of
where pulchritude reigns

El Cypher

 

October 10, 2017 4 comments
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Word-Perfect Monday (WPM)

A New dawn!

by Eden Benibo October 9, 2017

There,
Over there
Dripping, drenched in its blood
Blood
Blood not red but read danger
Colours not black but dark

There,
Over there
Laying breached of its whole
Whole
Whole not a hole but deep
As deep as depression

There it stood sitting
Smashed on the walls of truth
Laying,
As lifeless as it had made her life less

There,
That phase
Where the flood of dryness;
Met with the heat of coldness

There,
The phase she faced her fears
She killed it
All of it
She killed her FEARS
The enemy
She killed it
IT’S A NEW DAWN!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s a new week!
A new day!!
A new dawn!!!

A new phase to face those fears;
Cause your fears are your limitations
Kill them
Smash them on the walls of truth
The truth says “Yes, you can
You will
You just have to…”
#Go_glow

October 9, 2017 5 comments
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Aloud

Kick of an Ancient Foetus- By-Ugbeh Doreen

by Eden Benibo October 6, 2017

Ugbeh Doreen🔔
ye.e.e.s, maybe this is the Doreen you know somehow, somewhere but I’m here to ‘tell’ you about the Doreen you probably do not know.
Personally, I’ve known Doreen for quite sometime now and if I was told she is a writer, I would easily dance to the melodies of that beat, cause I’ve known her to be an excellent feature writer (no hypes) but hey! I just got to know that Doreen is a poet!!! Did you…? She’s a big time ‘bone wracking’ poet for that matter.
According to Doreen, her love for literature was discovered back in the days when she was still a secondary school student.
No doubt writing poetry (or any art in particular) can be an uphill task, following lots of deterrent factors.
However, we must note that poetry is life. It’s our duty as poets to live it and not leave it. To glow in it and not go out of it. On this note, a huge congratulations to our very own Doreen for her choice to live poetry. Cause more undiluted poetry is needed…
Cheers!! To the greater heights that awaits you,Doreen.
Glow on!🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KICK OF AN ANCIENT FOETUS written by Doreen is one very deep poem. I’ll recommend its consumption for everyone.

Here’s the full poem💊 ~

Burning furnace, I pass through
Thoughts keep coming through
Wallowing in anguish and tears
Swallowing deceit and cruelty
Shallowish my world become
Left alone, chewing over dilemmas
Soul forbearing vengeance
a thinking cap will help break through
But it kicks within again
Scolding depression.

Obtaineth from my flesh, the warmth of the sun
Beholding from my eyes, the beauty of the cloud
Perceiving with my nose, the smell of heavenly drops
Earing with my ears, the sound of thunder strikes
Tasting with my mouth, delicacies from greens,
She kicks in excitement and wants to tell a tale.

Like a foetus in the womb; it kicks
A life inside a flesh worries, the arcane pen kicks
Consoling inner feelings without meetings
life and flesh decides to meet, and say that the world is empty
The optimistic foetus kicks thus; Pen of its emptiness
They conclude its dark; pen of its darkness
They say it’s rough; pen of its roughish.
Nevertheless, not omitting thy last kick
It kicks thus; Tell them it’s well
Expose the possibilities
Describe of a bright next.

The foetus is an old seed
Kicking constantly to tell about.
A foetus that forever leaves within;
It told my old man to grab a quill,
It tells me to grab a pen,
And it has been the best thing since then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doreen started writing due to her admiration of the inspiration behind poems, after ‘studying’ so many of them.
In her words “the pen and the book are always ready to listen to you in any sort of situation that gives a feeling best known to you”.

All the very best Doreen!
Glow on!!🥂

 

October 6, 2017 2 comments
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Aloud

The Symbol of Death -By- Toyosi Oni

by Eden Benibo October 5, 2017

Toyosi Oni, Yes! That’s one of the names that should ring a bell in your head whenever you think about one of the rising African voices to look out for. As an undergraduate of the University of Benin (UNIBEN), his works have been published on both local and international platforms.He tells the stories untold with such magnificent touch, taking you right to the scene you had never seen or even imagined.
It is said that the African story has been told myopically, but I can boldly say that with the hundreds of Toyosi(s) we have today, our stories would be rewritten the right way. Making the world realise,  inspite of the fact that the continent has been tagged with darkness, struggle and pain, we have our strength,our zeal, our will and the creativity to thrive beyond all odds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Symbol of Death written by Toyosi is a story about an old woman who tells the bitter story of her life with so much strength and tenacity. She is someone I describe as an epitome of resiliency.

Here’s the full story: ‘The Symbol of Death’

She looked at me and showed her gold-brown teeth. Since I started this conversation with her, she had never ceased to spice her replies with a smile. Her smile was enthrallingly sparkling. Even at seventy-eight, she still understood what hearty laughter was.’What of your children, mama, where are they?’ I asked.She looked startled at my question, her wrinkled, rumpled face radiated with pain. She looked down at the cloth in her hand and pressed her teeth together, revealing a bulge at the side of her cheek, a little beneath her ear. I smelt that my question seemed out of place and I quickly segued.’You were not born and raised in Lagos, right?’She squeezed the clothe in her hand and pressed it so hard I started to fear it would tear. I knew exactly what she was feeling. That burning anger against the unknown. I was however sad that I ignited that anger.

‘I heard your first question, my son’ She said.I knew she did. I was almost pushed to ask why she did not answer but discarded the thought as soon as it came.’Sit down’ she ordered.I lent my hand to grab the nearest stool. Something inside me wanted to go. Another thing told me to wait.

‘You see’ she started. ‘I got married at a very early age.’She looked towards the sky and bit her upper lip.’I had my first son at the age of eighteen. He was indeed a bouncing baby boy. I remember how happy I was that day. I had been walking around with my big tommy for nine months. My mum was the happiest for me. I was happy that she was happy. So, I named him ayo’. She smiled as she pronounced that name.I adjusted my buttocks on the surface of the stool and told myself that I must listen to her till the end.

‘Ayo’ she said and kept quiet for a while.’Ayo was a brilliant boy. Right from his young age he had always shone with brilliance. At age four, Ayo was my calculator. He’d calculate the expenses of a customer to the awe of others’. She smiled.I stared at her blankly wondering where the whole story was headed.’Today, Ayo is no more, he died during a car accident on his way back from work.’ She said this with a big smile crested on her lips. I was left in total wonderment as to how she could say such a sad story and still keep her smile.’I’m so sorry, mama’ I said.

‘My second son came four years after Ayo, although I had a girl in between’. I looked at her and wondered how she expected me understand that.’His name was Ibukun, he was just like his brother, bright. Haha! He’d always cry to be in my hands everyday. There was a day he cried for four hours, just because I refused to talk to him’ she laughed aloud. I replayed her joke in my head and damn! It was boring.’Ibukun went to school in a country called Cyprus. You know, his tuition fees were not paid by me, because he was on a scholarship’ I made a silent hmm and nodded my head wondering what was going on in her mind.’Last year, Ibukun was sentenced to fifty years imprisonment in Cyprus. They said he killed someone, my Ibukun killed someone. Hmmm.’ As she said this, her face was blank. She squeezed the clothe

‘My third son was born in 1961′. I tried to do the math and realized how dumb I was at calculating.’I named him, Ife. And of course you know what that means’ she said as if to ask.’Love, I believe’ I replied enthusiastically.’Yes. Three months after Ife was born, he started walking, of course with the aid of things’ She paused and squeezed the cloth in her hand.’I remember Ife’s primary school days. He would wait in front of his wooden school, while I prepared to take him home’ She laughed. This time louder. So loud I began to wonder what this woman called funny.’Ife gained admission like his brother but he was in Nigeria. He was loved by his classmates, he loved playing football and was killed during one of his football matches’ she said as she smirked her lips. Tears were trying to come out of my eyes as I realized that she was talking about the death of her third son.

‘My fourth son. He was the conservative type. He hated crowdy areas. I remember how he angrily left his friend’s graduation party. When the celebrant’s mum told me. I simply told her that he just used that as cover. He hated crowdy places. I told her how I forced him to come to that party’. It was at this point that I started to notice a line from the side of her eyes.

‘Two years ago, sometime in October, he slept and never woke up’. She said this and I could filter the pain from her voice. She paused for a while and looked straight at me. Her lips moved as though she was muttering something.

‘I named him Kokumo’ she said as she squeezed the clothe.I paused and replayed the sequence of deaths. The first, second, third and fourth. I was creating the perfect line to console her in my mind. Her voice broke the silence.’My fifth and last son was named Malomo. After I gave birth to him, that happiness that accompanies childbirth was absent in me. I was scared and prayed seconds after he came out that God gives him a long life.’ I was scared and prayed silently that she would not squeeze the clothe.She looked at me and saw it. That fear. That shock.She threw the symbol of death away and smiled. At least I was happy that she was not going to squeeze it anymore. I expected her to say something but she was quiet.’Where is he?’ I asked with a somewhat faint voice.’OK’ she said.’I mean, where is he?’ I asked again.’He is… ‘ She said as she blinked her eyes.At this point she could not fight back her tears. I could not either. We both cried. Something popped into my mind. What of their father? I closed my eyes and decided that I was not going to ask that question.

‘Please say something.’ I said and this time my voice was loud.’He is… ”Yes?’ I asked.’He is… d… d…’ she said.I was staring at her waiting for a reply.’He is… what?”I saw him yester…’ she said.’OK?”He is dead’.The last hope was dead.I cried. I cried really hard.

The End

~…Toyosi is driven by passion and constantly seeks to grow in knowledge. For leisure,  he listens to reggae music, read novels and play games. 

October 5, 2017 4 comments
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Poetry

Our Clarion Call

by Eden Benibo October 4, 2017

Hopes were shot high,
By the arrows of prattle words
Echoes of the promise-land filled the air;
Choking all atoms of doubt in the heart of all
Near that victorious cry,
Stood our laughter of defeat;
For our independence unleashed,
Irrepressible dependency

Stuck in the mud of paltry gain
We linger on this same old gibberish
As blind minds lead feeble hearts,
We stagger and scuffle through this slippery aisle
Stripped of her retrospective script,
We pace about in this desert of falsehood
Like sheep in heaps of obfuscation,
Engulfed in a nightmare whose morning is held

Alas! Let sleeping pens wake
Shaking off the dust of ignorance
Husking the mask of corruption
Building our broken bridges,
With words of golden cement
Fervidly liberating our own
From the claws of myopia

Let dormant ink flow
For the rate of blood flow (in our land) grows
Staining the minds of our people with colours of wrath;
As our peace lays suffocated by the hands of greed

Let us fight
For so long have the might of our pen remained inertia
Let us wrestle,
Not with pistol but with weapons of salted words
Let us battle;
Not with swords but with words of coal;
Melting through the frozen hearts of men.

#fightingthewarsthatbringpeace

October 4, 2017 4 comments
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About Me

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Eden Benibo is a writer, story teller and thought leader whose works revolve around positivity, . . . Read More

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