Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

(Face to Face with my Demons)

In the webs of confusion, I once did dwell,
A journey through a living hell.
Postpartum darkness, suffocating air,
A weight so heavy, too much to bear.

My heart, a storm of endless rain,
A tempest causing endless pain.
In motherhood’s embrace, I had drown,
Invisible chains held me down.

Sleepless nights and endless cries,
Whispers of despair, silent sighs.
A love profound, yet shrouded in fear,
As postpartum depression drew near.

But in the depths, a spark did gleam,
A glimmer of hope, a faint moonbeam.
With courage, strength, and help I would find,
A path to healing, a heart unlined.

Therapists, friends, and family near,
Their support, a lifeline, so clear.
I faced my demons, one by one,
Postpartum’s battle, slowly undone.

Through therapy and time, I had mend,
In loving arms, my child, my friend.
Victory over darkness, a triumph so sweet,
The sun broke through, and my heart did beat.

Postpartum’s pain, a chapter to close,
A newfound strength, like a radiant rose.
A warrior now, forever to be,
My journey’s end, my spirit set free.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

POLYANDRY

I speak of a land where customs vary,

Where lies a practice called polyandry.

Not like what most know of matrimony,

It is a bond where multiple men share a journey.

No conventional unions of one and one,

In this realm, hearts find a different sun.

For a woman, it’s a love that’s manifold,

A choice to have many husbands to hold.

Oh, polyandry, a tale quite rare,

Where harmony blossoms, beyond compare.

No jealousy in this unique connection,

But a shared commitment, pure affection.

In this love’s grand design,

Brothers in spirit and heart intertwine.

They uplift their beloved, hand in hand,

Serving her with love across the land.

One may ask, how does this come to be?

A delicate balance, love’s vast decree.

For each man brings a special attribute,

Completing the circle, making love acute.

The first husband, a pillar of strength,

Guides with wisdom, shatters pretense.

He’s a rock, a foundation built to last,

Guarding the union, present and steadfast.

The second husband, an artist of passion,

Creating beauty, a sensual fashion.

Paints her dreams on a canvas of desire,

Igniting the flames that never tire.

The third husband, a soul filled with care,

A healer of hearts, erasing despair.

With gentle touch and soothing embrace,

He mends all wounds, unveils inner grace.

Bound together by love’s sacred thread,

Each man finds purpose through paths they tread.

A polyandrous bond, uniquely formed,

Where every husband’s love is transformed.

Oh, polyandry, a paradigm divine,

Where love’s boundaries gracefully intertwine.

In a world where hearts can freely roam,

A love story written outside the norm.

Let us not judge what we do not know,

For love’s vast wonders continue to grow.

In the realm of polyandry’s embrace,

Love’s boundaries expand in endless space.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

http://www.ifedolapoogunniyi.art.blog

Photo credit: Nellie, the woman married to three husbands. She conveniently feeds and clothes them. Strange!

In the stillness of the night, he stands,
A heart in turmoil, held by trembling hands.
His voice, a plea, in whispers soft, he sings,
“Say something, my love, let words take flight on wings.”

The silence deep, a heavy shroud of pain,
It cuts him deeper than a spoken disdain.
He longs for her to share her thoughts, her fears,
To let the words flow, to wipe away the tears.

For in her silence, wounds are slow to heal,
He would rather feel her words, however real.
Tongue-lashes, they may sting, but they are a start,
To mend the broken pieces of their wounded hearts.

He knows he is wrong, and he admits his faults,
But her silence, it is a storm that never halts.
He begs her, “Speak to me, my love, I pray,
Let not this silence tear our love away.”

He is ready to bear the storm of her words unkind,
But the silence, it is a torment of a different kind.
He pleads for her to end this silent night,
To save their love from the eternal blight

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

In awe, I ponder the mystery of five fingers,
Why not ten, as logic seems to linger?
Did the Divine, in His grand design,
Give us these digits, by a purpose divine?

Oh, finger nails, what is your secret role?
As you grow and protect, do you make us whole?
Are you a guard against harm’s cruel might,
Or just a relic of an ancient, cosmic rite?

And fingerprints, unique as a snowflake’s grace,
What is the purpose of this intricate embrace?
Do you tell a story of each person’s soul,
Or are you just a mark that helps us keep control?

Why were fingers made, unequal in their might,
Some long, some short, some left, some right?
Is it a lesson in life’s inherent diversity,
A reminder of our unique complexity?

I ask the Divine Being, who holds the key,
To unravel this enigma, to set our wonder free.
Why five fingers on each hand, not six or more?
What lessons lie hidden, what secrets in store?

In this grand design, we find our place,
Five fingers, a mystery we embrace.
In their imperfection, they teach us so much,
About the beauty of diversity, the human touch.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi

Photo credit: Google

Deep within the ocean’s tender hold,
A love, boundless, a story to be told.
Whispering waves, tides that gently sway,
In this aqueous world, love’s beauty finds its way.

Much like coral reefs, vibrant and alive,
Love’s hues in motion, darkness cannot survive.
Fish in unity, a testament from above,
In boundless love, the sea unveils its treasure trove.

From sandy shores to the abyssal deep,
Love’s currents ebb and flow in a timeless sweep.
In each seashell’s curve, in the cooing of a dove,
We uncover the splendor of boundless love.

Within the vast ocean’s hidden lore,
Love’s depth stretches forevermore.
With each sunrise, every star above,
We are submerged in the grace of boundless love.

© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi