Is a “word” just a word?

Is a “word” just a word?

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A word is not just a word,
Once said it can’t be withdrawn;
Too often, it burns deep and leaves-
A scar which no one can see.

And those, fibers they become;
Spreading cancerous to the brain;
And she thinks those words must be true;
And believes in all that they prove.

But oh darling, a word’s just a word;
It shouldn’t make you into what they want;
You are perfect not clumsy or worse-
Not a mould formed of words of the world.

A thick skin is very hard to come;
So for now, all I give is my love;
Hold to it and ignore the taunts;
You’re perfect to me, more than words.

Though the words still burnt little holes,
The love spread covered up the burrows;
And though she’s getting there- baby steps,
She knows words can indeed break a soul.
They broke her but love healed the holes.

Blog Tour Award: on Creative Process

Blog Tour Award: on Creative Process

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I was nominated by the wonderful Ruth whose poetry blog is hosted at I-read for the blog tour award in which I have to answer four questions about my creative writing process. Let’s hope this post doesn’t bore you ;). And thank you so much for this Ruth.

RULES

Pass the tour on up to four other bloggers.

Give them the rules and a specific Monday to post.

Answer four questions about your creative process which lets other bloggers and visitors know what inspires you to do what you do.

Compose a one-time post on a specific Monday (date given from your nominator).

1) WHAT I’M WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT:
At the moment, I am taking things one day at a time. No personal deadlines or goals, and I must say, that is the best decision I ever made. I’m focusing on writing for myself but at the same time, improving with every story/poem. I am slowly shifting out of my comfort zone by writing and sharing stories which is a big deal for me. And just balancing it all with the work load of school. So even though I’m not working on a specific thing at the moment, I feel like, my plate is (almost) full.

2) HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS IN MY GENRE?
Em, okay this is a hard one. When it comes to stories, most (if not all) of my fiction are actually based on true life events in one way or the other. I see things and interpret them in my one words and views, which is what I term realistically tragic. My poetry, on the other hand, I’d say is a circle. The last part of my poems are usually wrap-ups to the first part- so you find the beginning meshes in the end. How it differs with others? I’m not so sure, but I believe no two writers are the same so that in it self makes it different.

3) WHY DO I WRITE OR CREATE WHAT I DO?
This is a question I have asked myself time and time again. In fact, for those of you who have been following this blog for quite a while now, you’d recall that there are a number of poems I wrote solely on the question “why do I write?” And the truth is, I’m still searching for the answer. So to simply put it, I think for now, I write because I know nothing better; I write because writing and happiness go hand in hand for me. The paper is the one true friend that would always listen to my jumbles, with no perks and no judgement. And that I think is part of why I write. And honestly, to me, writing is not a “want”, it’s something that I “need” to do; writing has never been an option, it’s a necessity.

4) HOW DOES MY WRITING/ CREATIVE PROCESS WORK?
I am inspired most times by “harsh reality”. The emotions of others are usually what spur my writing. I can be sitting in class and hear a few words spoken by others, and that’d be my inspiration. Or I could be walking on the street and see a couple fighting or a girl crying or just any kind of emotion (or lack) and that spurs my writing. The words begin to form and I just have to let them down in writing. I don’t have a specific time for writing, it doesn’t work for me that way. But sometimes when I seem to have a block, I force and push myself to write something. I stare at the pad screen and slowly I begin to fill it up with words. I like to think that sometimes our brains need a little push as well.

Now, I NOMINATE *drumrolls*
As I have been labelled “rule breaker” by a dear blogger friend of mine here, I figured well, why not break another rule. And also, I realise a lot of my followers host “award free blogs” so instead- I nominate every single one of you who has the time, to please accept this award. Oh yes, the Monday for submission is March 23. Can’t wait to read what tickles your creative bone 🙂

Flash Fiction: Blackouts

Flash Fiction: Blackouts

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“Al-most there”, panted Allison as she made her way across the sandy path. She looked flustered; her dirty blonde hair was unsightly, face muddled with dust, eyes soggy from in-sufficient sleep or too much? She didn’t know which.

Allison had awaken to find herself, lying at the root of a leafless oak tree in broad daylight. She had no idea how she got there or for how long she had been lying there.

After a never-ending divorce battle with her now ex-husband, Allison decided to take a much needed break and rented an old house in the middle of nowhere. Just when things were beginning to look up, the blackouts began again. Allison realized the only explanation for her lying on a cold muddy ground was that her “blackouts” were back.

Panting as she made her way through the path, she noticed a signboard for the guesthouse she was staying- Boldly written was “Willow’s place”. Allison sighed, finally, almost there.


Word count: 160. This post is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. You are all welcome to join, all you have to do is follow the link and write a 150-175 word story on a picture prompt (supplied by the host) . I never thought I could write a flash fiction and now, I’m done with week 3 and can’t wait for 4! 😀

You, I

You, I

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I loved, you lied;
I fell, sunk deep;
You watched, wide eyed-
And bare-ly blinked;
I swam, somehow-
From the shallow brinks;
I almost drowned,
And you, seemed pleased.

But that’s okay,
I fought somehow;
The shore, welcomed-
my arrival;
I almost drowned,
You bare-ly blinked;
I’ve found my ground,
You don’t seem pleased;
Well now to me-
You’re history.

A little blue

A little blue

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If she could express,
Her thoughts in words;
So the viewers could grasp-
her world;
Express the ache,
In numbers onscreen;
They’d have to be doubled,
To show how she feels;
The world is not blind,
And neither is she;
But numbers can’t justify,
To the screams within;
So she says-
It’s a ten;
But a hundred
Is what she means;
And they think,
It’s just some pain;
While her insides,
Scream within.

What this means is-
when you see
A little girl,
Battling within;
And she says to you-
“I’m just a little blue”;
Then there’s an earthquake,
That’s brewing within;
Don’t ask me how
Just trust I know-
Ain’t nothing like,
A little blue.

Writers Quote: Enid Blyton

Writers Quote: Enid Blyton

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I am an avid fan of Enid Blyton and once again today, I decided to share a quote from one of her books, Malory Towers. A few days ago, I was reading “Second form at Malory towers” which is the second book in the series, and I came across this quote  said by one of the characters (bonus point if you can guess who 😉 ). And how right the quote is! I always say that the mind is a powerful tool, what we believe is our capability, is what we can accomplish. In order to pursue something wholeheartedly, we have to believe with every bone in our body; and after that, the chances of succeeding we find are pretty high. 

I think the problem arises when we let other people define and determine what we can and cannot do. We unintentionally leave the pen in the hands of others to write down our fate. Having the belief in capabilities despite what others say would help us go a long way, especially when it comes to writing. The odds that the first publisher we submit our writings to wouldn’t be the one to see the creative talent in them, is pretty high. And the chances of being rejected in an unholy manner are even higher – and that’s where belief comes in. 

Once you know what you can do, and believe with  all your might that you can and will accomplish it, then oh my dears- the sky is your limit.


This is my submission to Writers Quote Wednesday, hosted by SilverThreading. You are welcome to join us and Participate, just follow the link above :).  And Ps- this time, I am right on time! 

Till Next Time ❤

Flash Fiction: Once upon a Summer

Flash Fiction: Once upon a Summer

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It was only last summer… Bridgette thought, staring into the yard that laid behind their building. Focusing her gaze on the luscious trees that surrounded it, she strained to see if there was a mockingbird. It was said, mockingbirds brought good luck. What she’d give for a bit of luck.

That time last summer, she was having time of her life- sneaking into the tennis yard when her parents weren’t around and disturbing the peace of the neighbors by playing knockouts. But that Summer, her partner in crime, Suzie, was gone. Not in the sense that she’d passed away, but, she was struggling for her life with a 50-50 chance of survival as the doctor bluntly put out.

Bridgette believed in the saying “hope is a thing with feathers” and she sat at the window, hoping against hope that Suzie would defeat all odds. At that moment, she noticed a bird fly past, it was a mockingbird. Bridgette smiled, she knew in heart now without a whiff of doubt, Suzie would make it.


Word count: 172 words. This post is in response to the flash fiction photo prompt hosted by: Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers.

The Plan of the Bed-Wetter

The Plan of the Bed-Wetter

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One summer holiday, when I Was in grade 1, My family and I traveled to the North as we often did to visit our relatives and grandparents. I and my siblings spent all year looking forward to those visits because, life in the North is different- it’s safe, rural and still had vast nature. Anyway, I was a bed wetter. To both my parents, it was a normal phase that they believed I would grow out of. But to some of my relatives, uh-uhn, this was something that needed taking care of- the traditional way. Some of the suggestions given was that: (and this is true by the way)
1) a lizard should be tied to my leg when I’m sleeping. Apparently this was the tradition those days
2) I should drink water in which snake-skin has been soaked in.

And I know some of you might not believe me, this is the Northern Nigerian style. I can still remember the look of the snake skin, haha.

I slept on the same bed in the family house with a cousin of mine, let’s call her “H”. Well, I awoke one night to find out that yet again, I had wet the bed. Not wanting to be the only one guilty of the crime, I arose from the bed to solve the issue. Thank God, the night was well illuminated by the moon. As I clearly remembered, I walked to the fridge and felt for the bowl in which drinking water was normally kept. I slowly lifted it, walked backed towards where “H” was lying, fast asleep, and poured the contents of the bowl on her clothe. With that done, I returned the bowl and went back to sleep feeling good that at least, I wouldn’t be the only one who wet the bed.

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An Ode: (Im)Perfect Drawer

An Ode: (Im)Perfect Drawer

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Is that your drawer? they exclaimed-
       And mocked your magnificence, upon first gaze;
               To wrap you up in my arms, I yearned;
And whisper, dear drawer you’re perfect to me.

It’s alright my lady, do not fret;
          I’m made from thick oak, I can handle it;
                 The pleasure I get from the warmth of your clothes-
And treasure you keep in me, make me pleased.

An odd little drawer you are, really;
        Two odd creations, no wonder we fit;
                   Your imperfect borders are what attracted me-
Imperfectly perfect and worth every penny!


I know writing201 poetry is sadly over and  I am a bit late in a few assignments. It’s about time I finish what I start  and so, here is assignment 8: write a poem using the prompt “Drawer” in the style of an “ode” using the poetic device- apostrophe. Oh, and the real drawer is indeed ugly 😀