Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

Staring at the webs of regrets from yesteryears’ mistake,
A soul entangled, haunted by the choices it would remake.
Past’s specter looms, a ghost in the night,
Yearning for chances to set things right.

Present, with a coat of colours torn,
Seeks solace in chaos, where hope is worn.
Fingers tremble, clinging to the now,
As the present whispers, a dissonant vow.

Future’s enigma, a story untold,
Frightening whispers, uncertainties unfold.
Anxiety weaves its threads through time,
In the heart’s recesses, a haunting chime.

Oh, the wish to unbundle history’s bale,
To mend the threads that relentlessly frail.
Yet, the present dances in an eerie waltz,
A fearful discovery, where dreams exhaust.

Tomorrow’s pages, shrouded and veiled,
A labyrinth of fears, untamed and unassailed.
In the corridors of time, footsteps unsure,
Shit-scared echoes, the heart’s obscure lure.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

Sitting alone where silence weeps,
I bear the weight of secrets kept.
A woman’s soul, with scars unseen,
A prisoner of a love unclean.

Through whispered nights and tear-stained days,
I have dreamt of sunlit, open ways.
A phoenix rising from the sorrow,
For freedom is coming tomorrow.

In trembling hands, I map my flight,
Break the chains that bind so tight.
The moon, my confidant, knows my plea,
As I plan for a future yet to be.

Bruised but not broken, I find my might,
For a dawn that banishes endless night.
In the mirror, a reflection I borrow,
Whispering, “Freedom is coming tomorrow.”

With every step towards the light,
I reclaim the dreams I have held so tight.
No longer captive to the echoes of pain,
Tomorrow, a sanctuary I shall gain.

Through the passage of time, resilience I borrow,
For in my heart, I embrace a new morrow.
No longer a captive in silent sorrow,
For freedom is coming tomorrow.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

(Mystery Untold)

Inside the womb a mystery unfolds,
Nine moons pass, a secret story yet untold.
Conception’s veil, a shroud of enigma,
A sacred dance, where God’s hands paint the stigma.

Within the cocoon of life, a fetus takes form,
Silently growing, escaping human norm.
No scent of decay, no hint of decay,
God’s divine shield keeps decay at bay.

The mother, a vessel, in this cosmic ballet,
Eats, drinks, excretes, yet the babe does stay.
A salsa dance unseen, a ballet divine,
Concealed from the world, in the womb’s design.

The eyes of the world cannot pierce this cocoon,
As life quietly quickens, like a hidden moon.
God’s artistry woven in cells and bone,
A masterpiece crafted, in a world of its own.

In the belly’s sanctum, a miracle concealed,
A secret garden, where life is revealed.
No mortal eye witnesses this sacred art,
Only God’s hands, crafting from the start.

Like a fruit on the vine, ripening slow,
The babe decides when it is time to go.
A mystery profound, in the birthing chime,
A dance with time, in God’s grand design.

I sit here and marvel at the secret, the mystery untold,
In the womb’s quietness, a poem to behold.
A perfect creation, where wonders align,
A thoughtful ballet, in the world so divine.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

In silence draped, a world without sound,
I navigate a maze where whispers drown.
A lady, a portrait in shadows profound,
Her pain, a reality in murmurs unsound.

A sigh escapes, a gentle breeze of woe,
Yet in this hush, emotions cease to grow.
Mumbles cascade like a quiet stream,
A cacaphony of ache, a silent dream.

The picture painted in hues of gray,
Her eyes, windows to what words cannot convey.
Groans echo in the chambers of despair,
A silent opera, a soul laid bare.

Right in the mirror of silence, reflections swirl,
The depths of her agony, a silent twirl.
Yet, in the stillness, a resilience gleams,
A silent strength in the absence of screams.

No lexicon can capture the torment held,
In the quiet spaces where anguish is quelled.
For her pain, too deep for language to find,
In a world without sound, it is the heart that is confined.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

I attempted to inhale,
Yet the burdens of this existence
Strangle me daily.
No one to confide in,
Nowhere to discover a path forward.

I tripped,
Life grew overwhelmingly tiresome,
A rat race filled with obstacles,
Deliberately set by destiny,
Accidentally positioned by misguided choices.

Indeed, I stumbled,
As strength deserted me at one point,
No supportive hands to raise me,
Excuses from friends held me low,
Loved ones’ indifference was deeply disheartening.

In the abyss of confusion,
I paused,
Right there, I murmured to myself,
“You are lost to be found.”
Initially sounding hollow,
Through numerous repetitions, I learned
That to attain lasting peace in this tumultuous world,
You must lose yourself
To find yourself.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

Where pride resides, HER ROYAL HIGH-NESS reigns,
A young dame adorned in self-appointed gains.
Neglecting hearts, she treads a lofty path,
Where subjects’ needs incur her royal wrath.

Her gaze, a mirror of self-enthroned delight,
A kingdom built on ego’s towering height.
Yet, in this court, compassion finds no stay,
For others’ pleas are swiftly swept away.

Each sunrise bows to HER, a grand display,
But shadows linger where her subjects pray.
In golden halls, the echoes of neglect,
A symphony of hearts she did reject.

Yet crowns can tarnish, lose their regal gleam,
When empathy is but a distant dream.
For greatness lies not in a self-made throne,
But in the bonds with those we call our own.

Hello, HER ROYAL HIGH-NESS, please learn the art,
That kingdoms built on love will never part.
The crown that truly shines,
Is forged in kindness, not in grand designs.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi