Where is the poem? 

Posted: November 11, 2017 in Uncategorized

A poem is rang on the street

It sounds with the wind

It is heard in the lightning

And in the thunder

Warning of a storm to come

It whistles through the leaves

Of the almond tree

And is heard in the drummer’s beats

But the poet is deaf
A poem creaks

Through the wooden door

It shuffles itself 

Beneath your converse sneakers

It cries out through your song playlist

And in the joyful screams

Of little  school girls running 

A poem is heard rattling

On the ankles of the dancers

It booms from the speakers

By the side of the street

But the poet hears narry
A poem sips out

From the pot of jollof rice on the stove

It is perceived in the baby powder

On her neck

And in the Old Spice on the guy

Who just passed

It is in the strawberry scent 

Of the pack of Orbit in your backpack

And in the red velvet cake in your mouth

A poem is smelt in the new shoes

You bought the day before

And in the sizzling hot dogs

Deep frying in the kitchen

It is in the pot of burnt rice

Left to meet your mother’s scolding

It is scented in the baby wipes

And in your mother’s perfume

But the poet has tubes stuck in his nostrils
A poem is seen in the color 

Of your favorite jeans

It is sighted in the sequins

Of her evening gown

It is seen in his checkered shirt

In the wooden beads on her hair

And in the artsy neckpiece he always wears

A poem is seen on the color of her lips

Skin and eyes

It is written on the billboards and sign posts

And also in your test scores on the noticeboard

It is seen in the architecture of the bank

And in the hedges around it

But the poet is blind
Who will be the lender of functional ears,noses and eyes??

~ ©Fiõda 

Photo credit:-Fiõda Gideon @justfioda 

*dusting out cobwebs*

It’s been soo long🤧🤧😥😭😪😫

If you’ve never been here, you’re highly welcome 😊😊,come again sometime. And follow  for more written goodness 😄😄

If you’ve been here before,  thank you for revisiting! 😇😇

Stay tuned 😚😚

P. S: Your comments count.

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Wanna Slay? Be at SWAY!

Posted: October 3, 2017 in Uncategorized

Wanna slay (words)??

Be a Spoken Word Artiste in 8 weeks!!
You’ve seen the greats perform Spoken Word and you’ve wished for long to know how to do it like they do it. Wish no more as Rhyme N Reason presents the first Spoken Word School in Nigeria, Spoken Word Academy for Youths SWAY. 

The first Spoken Word School in Nigeria. For Ten Thousand (10,000) Naira you get to;

1. Learn the concept of imageries, punchlines, wordplays, etc

2. How to use body language to enhance your performance 

3. The art of public speaking 

4. And many more.
Date: October 14th to December 9th
Venue: Fountain Heights Highschool, Surulere, Lagos.
Time: 10 AM to 3 PM.
To register, call 08123851994 or send a mail to sway@rhymeandreasonng.com

Finally the shell is cracking off without damaging the egg within.
I performed a poem of mine in spoken word for the first time ever, on Saturday.This was at Diverse /Thy Verse/, the maiden edition hosted by Clemency Green [@thatpoetclem]. I felt… different, afterwards. Different in a way I can’t exactly lay a finger on. Thinking of the cold feet that tried to get a grip on me. It was truly an experience. I just feel kinda excited that I actually tried it out. Wasn’t so bad after all. Though it wasn’t such a perfect run. I know I’m right on track. God’s got me :)…
-BREAKING THE SHELL

To write or not to write?

Nah, that’s left out

To speak or not to speak?

Now,thats the question that made my fear reach it’s peak.
You see,Home to me was what my shell was

My comfort zone, my favourite zone

my safety blanket, the one that warms you up the most

On the coldest nights, you know

That one that never lets you down

That lets you lie in green pastures

Or rather withered grass from past errs

and lost hope

She tells me I can’t cope

With the struggles and trails that life may bring

And that I’m better off without even trying

Once the Ying to my yang

The flip to my flop

My tango partner

The one whose music magically got me swaying to

The bitter bits of self doubt
We were inseparable

Like a snail to its shell

who retreats at the slightest sign of danger

So I was to strangers

The ones that tell you of things

To ‘try this out’, ‘Come out from your shell’

But that just seemed like hell to my ears

Cos for so long I’d listened to the devil’s lies

That lingered  even in my subconscious

And with his viles he construed my mind to believing I was just a  sea of confusion

Meanwhile what I really failed to see

Was that the shell was all a facade

A mask masking my inner strength

Shading the true length of whatever abilities that may be

And all I needed was the Son

To bask in His glory

And trust Him soley
Today

I stand before you all

As I take a step in cracking that shell

Just as Rome wasn’t built in one day

The bricks of the wall I so diligently built round myself over the years can not be broken in one day

But I know they are crumbling

I feel it

I feel it in my bones

So though I may stumble and fall

Just like the sun that sets and rises up at dawn

I will rise again

I wasn’t

built to break.
*Dances in cracked up shell*💃💃💃.

Stay tuned to this space😘😘.

A Chilly Visit

Posted: January 14, 2017 in Poetry
Tags:

​Harmattan revisited this morning

With a gentle yet pronounced kiss

He sauntered in with no fore warning

And owned the place

I don’t know what time he’ll go

But I sure do not want a lengthy visit
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
My estranged lover

Gave me a visit

An unexpected one to be told

He promised to make me white

With fear

I always figured he was delusional

I forgot to put up my guard last night

So he barged in this morning

With a mission

‘To dry me up’

To make my streams of water

Colder than ice

He gave his word

To ‘take care’ of everyone else 

If he did it before

He can do it again

                                                 ©Fiõda Gideon

              

 I woke up this morning to a white face and a literal set of cold feet. So I set my pen in motion and came out with the two poems above. Both poems are harmattan inspired. 

Vaselined  lips and icy baths ☕
Fiõda✌

Reflections.

Posted: December 31, 2016 in Musings
Tags: , ,

The 31st of December is being aroused from deep slumber of 365 days. Now with a crooked back and tired feet, she has reached the finish line and is about to hit that ribbon. 2016 has been like a sprint race, I still remember when the whistle was blown. Like a marathon race for a cause, met a lot of characters on the way. Like playing tennis with a machine, with rapid firing of balls to tackle. Like an exam I wasn’t fully prepared for. But with a Great Tutor by my side every step of the way. Though He felt like He wasn’t there some days and I was left with just a wisp of His fragrance to hold on to. Nothing physically substantial. 
I was on a quest of ‘SELF discovery’. Trying to find out who I really am. I stumbled and I fell. Into an abyss of SELF destruction. Of SELFishness, and SELF pity, and SELF denial. Focused too much on mySELF. That I only sought my First Love as the last resort. When none of my SELF helps worked out. I learned that my worth is found in Him. My identity isn’t found in personality tests or society’s ‘opinion’ on how to live. I was created by a creator. The Creator. The Almighty. So if there’s anyone to tell me how to live, it should be my Creator. The one who owns a manual to my being. The One who is the beginning and the ending. The One in my past, present and future all at the same time. He ought to know me better than anyone else. So, I’ve come to the realization that ‘my only identity crisis was my eye dentity to see Him‘ and to identify Him in my life. I’m still learning and discovering who I am in Him…  So far I’ve learned… His existence is first and my existence flows forth from His. That’s the flow of existence. Therefore, I must put Him first and then let everything flow from that. Let everything begin with Him and flow forth from Him. That’s the secret of life. To not only live for Him, but to live your life from Him, to live from His living, to move from His moving, to act from His actions, to feel from His heart, to be from His being, and to become who you are from who He is …I AM.

She has survived eleven months and thirty days. She has had her own share of highs and lows. She has lived and learned. Overslept. Missed opportunities. Laughed. Let go. Moved on. Now it’s the end.

 But not the end in itself. Just the end of a great chapter to be left behind. To begin a new one. She looks at all those  months, days, hours, minutes and seconds behind her in retrospect. And here she stands. Sure, there has been mistakes, but no regrets. 

And now it’s time to say goodbye to 2016.

Fresh scents of New year and Mind blowing fireworks;)

FIÕDA G.

                       

😌😌😌

shugarythots

image

That feeling you get after reading a Francine Rivers books,
Or when you hear a Women of faith /Don Moen song.
That feeling you get when you use a cologne that smells like your mum, or when the woman serving food is extra nice to you.
That feeling you get when your cloth smells of camphor, or when you eat amala with your good friends
That feeling when you’re called by your house nickname, or when someone helps adjust your wrapper to cover you up in the night
That fresh grass scent, the cloudy sky threatening to break out and the warnings to take a cardigan along, that old worn shirt you never want to let go off.
That feeling of someone waking you up at 6 telling you it’s already 7:30 because you have a class by 8,
Or that feeling when you go through the old songs on…

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It Can’t Be Put Into Words

Posted: February 13, 2016 in Uncategorized

Relatable…

thehoudinian

I wish to write

With profound language

But all I get is a

Second grade scribble.

Why can’t my thoughts

Form into smart words?

So many ideas of complexity

And possibly brilliance

That are trapped inside me.

Like a mute that wishes to speak.

A deaf to hear, the lame to walk.

It simply cannot happen,

And oh how it hurts!

Listen to what I’ve figured out!

But none of it makes sense to them.

Maybe one day someone shall…

Understand?

Yes.

Until then, I can only keep trying,

Though I’ll most likely fail,

To convey my thoughts and

Revelations in such a way to

Show intelligence and wonder.

I pray that the day shall soon come.

~TheHoudinian

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