Segun Ozique

In what name or blend is sweet to behold In fragrance unique, teasing and alluring In freedom from strife, beloved and dear Irritated reel, twitchy as nutty like thunder The rose is a creation well poised Self sufficient to bloom to all admirers With thorns as protection for beseeching hands Only the careful and caring invited to pluck So, when rose is seen standing afar alone Do not for once think she does in despair For the hunger that feeds on her beauty Troubles her with too a relentless longing The world in its guise is filled by pretenders And the rose full of acumen sensibly knows

Several years ago, after his well thought-out campaign pumped him up into the kind of galvanizing governor Gombe citizens have never had, he has very much led his traditional state of Gombe Emirate, tucked away in the North-East of Nigeria (roughly, the once Tangale-Waja Chiefdom) onto the part of limelight and heavenly bliss, dwarfing every of his contemporaries in that region with his style of governance and management. And, the people, it seems, like fish to water, becoming used to evolutionary forward movements and improved standard of living in all facet of their lives would not want such lifeline discontinued. I am an occasional visitor to the state and have witnessed the man’s excellent statesmanship. My most cherished and private memorable impression of Gombe till date, remains, the last December, 2013, exhibition of charismas lightings; sparkling spectacle so warm and endearing, only Lagos has come close to similar non bias religion display of splendour . Governor, Ib...

In cloud of greyish mist I rose, awoken But sun came bathing away the ambiance Yet inexplicable state of knottiness stayed Squeezing on my polluted heart and hope Until the balmy air got haloed with nature Birds, roving in drove to the runs of the sky With sight, of flight, and drills: so thrilling; A spectacle I watched as if held spellbound; Exhibition unshackling my joy in internment Scenic flyers of hope they were, timely too: Angelic heart masseurs; soldiers of freedom: How soothing their reach to depth of my soul Welcoming were their pains drowning stunts: The birds had seized my heart: damping my Longings, dreams, and plans to passing limbo; My gloominess rerouted to sense of delight.

  A city, the wolfs live side by side the lambs The spider a few houses from the fly Bosses across street from their workers Hunters and wagers in vicious tango ball City, humanism and nature are empty concepts All that counts are lives as commodities and money Men and women exchanging their bodies or part; Their lives, the content in control of the devourers   Dead lives kept alive by marginal fortitude Wretched and impotent agent of happy hours Consumed by eaters of the been born dead; By conditioned huntsman of unending miseries