Moses by Olatunde Obafemi

I throw shattered glass in the air
then breathe the brokenness with
no ounce of fear.

So broken glass,
like a rain of shining drops of
cut crystal puzzles
are rough-edges of no colour
that Iluminate the spectrum of my mind
but tear my lungs to shreads and
into cracks of breathing. It is beautiful:
How broken things that reflect
can inspire a fire in me.

How broken darts can burn
in love so great
like His Fire that burns in the bush
Of my heart.

Photocredit: Burning Bush by Michael Power


To a Black Christian woman,

Your skin became an altar

With sacrifice upon sacrifice presented to God.

(like) A living slaughter

Made whole by the – not a – mortal cord

Made immortal in your heart by colours of you

When you tell your saviour, “you are all I want in you”

Dear Chocolate Chistian Woman,

Time doesn’t come late;

Only men do

And women too

But when Your Creator, you behold

It would be the sweetest taste to hold

Like chocolate

But with a better fate

photocredit: Black Christian Woman

POEM: FOR THOSE PEOPLE by Olatunde Obafemi


No Puppies were hurt in the writing of this poem.


This is for all the untold tales

stuck on the wrong trails.

It is for the unsold sales

dumped with the label “fail”.


This is for the judgments with the wrong scales;

The thoughts, shipped with the worst sails.

It is also for those who bail

out of the right things or cut the wrong puppy’s tail




This is for the “hammers and the nails”

Who cannot do without each other.

It is for the conquering and the pain with the wails

or simply for the wrong line with no rhyme-partner.


The point is, this poem is for those people

who run away from succeeding

by running on the wrong track. Who double

their paces into hell in the name of ‘living’.


This poem doesn’t mock you.

It hopefully points you to the undone

like the untold tales or the sacrifices we burn

on the altars of skipping what we need to do.


If this poem hasn’t said it already,

it was written for those who the world doesn’t know;

Who wouldn’t be known because they are never steady

on the right pathway; so their greatness is quite slow.



photo credit: Telegraph

You Are by Olatunde Obafemi and Hillary Antibelle

You’re the sun in my night

Always make my day come to light



You are the rainbow if I’m blind

(You’re) so colourful in my mind


You are the joy in my slow dance

The beauty in every glance


You are the rain up-on my dry earth

The purpose in every breath


And you are God


There’s no way to describe you, my Lord

You are everything and all things (are) by you

Even poetry can’t tell how you do

what you do

That’s who you are

Consuming fire

That’s who you are

The matchless power

That’s who you are

The faithful lover

And you are God

And you’re my God


You are light in my darkness

Strength for all of my weakness


You are answers to prayer

And to sickness, my healer


You are holy and loving

You are God and you’re sovereign


You are beautiful in all of your ways

And your mercies endure through all the days

(Of my life)


And you are God


There’s no way to describe you, my Lord

You are everything and all things (are) by you

Even poetry can’t tell how you do

what you do

That’s who you are

Consuming fire

That’s who you are

The matchless power

That’s who you are

The faithful lover

And you are God

And you’re my God


to be continued…


God, we would meet by Olatunde Obafemi

We met…

we melted into one: me

Me: wept and crept

underneath till YOU found me

We would meet again and again

taking away my pain

pourging away my stains

making me until YOU breathe me back into me

Clay, alive

5, a drive

4 cardinal points meet at my heart

3 Gods, in one: YOU formed me like art

2 eyes, mine, beheld YOUR glory in perfect sight

1 soul saved, mine, from darkness to YOUR marvelous light.

“In Life and in Death” by Olatunde Obafemi

If it comes to life

If it comes to death

I don’t have to fear

’cause You are always here

If it comes to life

If it comes to death

I can trust the Creator, who is now my friend

I can trust the Saviour until the end

And if I cant find you there

then I’m not leaving here.

If I don’t see you where

they say You are, then, I’m not going to stare

Because even if it’s about life

or it regards death:

I’ll always obey you

concerning who I’ll be and what I’ll do




There is so much colour in black and white

In dancing shadows with shade at night

In fire shouting at woods that burn

In sounds of battles that come from the horn.
There is so much silence in how the tide sings

How it woos the shore and clings

To the embrace of stray children

Running away from pain

Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.

Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.

There is a solemn motion in still pictures

And how an unmoved piece structures

the earth in many ways into submission

Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.
There is a Hunter of the vile

Who soon becomes prey to the file

Of slaves staggering to the plough

Of questions like “why should I Bow”?

There are so much lies

Beneath the skies

Especially when we try to purchase peace

With violence as a decorated fleece.

There is a limit to how long this poem goes

A limit to how far it shows

But one thing is true among the lies we tell

There is a Heaven and then a hell


I got to these cosmic roads

Nude of thoughts;

There were sounds like planets weeping

Eroding my stream of being

Until I became one with the silence

Of the universe.


At the cosmic crossroads

I was drenched with white ash

And armed with the stakes from wars within.

My heart stopped its beat

And changed the course

As was my sail, anchored in the sea of desire

Threading a deeper bosom with nothing

But scars and earth and scion-blood


At the cosmic crossroads

I spoke a new tongue:

Syllabic-wounds locked in the bid to commune with distant times.

I danced to a new tune

Of wrath suppressed and wit empowered

Of silhouettes mingled with the dawn of new ages

I beheld wonders

And hid them in the words of this poem

For the heart is at peace with complexities

And I crooned further west in the heavens


At the cosmic crossroads

I loved

And watched love love beyond its frontiers

My eyes were cold though warmth was evident

I lived

As though it was all a repetition

Of times before time was ordained

When my thoughts were ripe

I was plucked from the abyss of vain sojourns

To an eternal light


At the cosmic crossroads

I met with peace

And warred not with His angels

For my fear was cured

And I had sold my pride for time

In bliss, I rejoiced and joined the paradox

Which was the chain of life.

When I let out the breath of death

I came BACK to a garden of beauty and power of health and blameless order.


At the cosmic crossroads

I became one with the finite:

Clouds were milked for the call

And to please the divine, I pledged:


yet default was all that was needed

For in me and In all that creation had puked

Was the cure of all infirmities

My soul strode but not to be forgotten.


At the cosmic crossroads

If there was a message

It was that all good and bad were one

But by demise could these paths be parted

I sang a new song

Of myths and truth and how it all would end.


Poetry should not starve

Let her give out the wisdom

of beauty and love

Poetry should soar well

In the hearts of all who

dance upon the truth

Poetry should heal some

And cleanse the mind from itself

when it is a slave

This is the reward:

Poetry repels loneliness

by wits and comfort

Oh Poetry should be!

Not the dictates of a low

mind but of the art

Poetry awakens

But many slumber by will

These, oh poet, ignore!

Poetry must bless

Impress? Yes, but never leave

the camp of blessing

Poetry shudders not.

For it is the heart of art:

Finite perfection

Dear poet, poetry must

be your sword upon the fields

Against enmity

Poetry would rebel

When death sleeps its eternal

sleep; and dreams come true

Poetry is more, yes?

Depth, soul; universe in

words purging meaning

Poetry serves itself

It’s everything and nothing

Life and not just life