Tag Archives: art

Last Night

Like a tiny creature wrapped in a warm cocoon
A certain kind of bliss
One I had almost forgotten

Last night was a kind of heaven
A kind of high; intoxicating
A kind of calm; peaceful and serene

Last night was a kind of charm
A kind of magic; alluring
A kind of spell; consuming

Like a garden safely tucked in the heart of the woods
Flowers glowing in the gorgeous moonlight
A certain kind of tranquil
One I had almost forgotten

Last night was a kind of dream
Fading away with the darkness as the sun wakes the day…

Mine (9)

“So where are you from?” he asked as he packed my plate with food to hold a nation for a year.

Am I really that skinny that I look starved? And here I was thinking I was healthy. I knew I had lost a few pounds since I got here; apparently, oyinbo food and I are not particularly compatible. He stopped when he noticed me staring at the monstrosity that was supposed to be my food. I finally tore my eyes away from Goliath and faced him.

“You’ll need your strength later,” he said as he tried to hide his grin, but his eyes held a promise of something. Something I couldn’t quite place my hand on…until…click!

“Oh”, I half-whispered, and then giggled thinking to myself, ‘thank God I’m black. The last thing we want to do is start blushing like a goat’ (I know goats don’t blush, please leave me). That didn’t stop me from smiling like a fool, although I looked down at Goliath in order to avoid David’s burning gaze.

“So, where are you from?” he asked again, as he moved to his spot beside me on the island.

“Nigeria,” I said, bracing myself for a lengthy discussion spent discrediting common misconstruction about Africa, and African countries, and also preparing not to lose my cool.

David was straight out of my favourite, most exciting erotic novel, but that doesn’t mean I won’t lash out at him the moment he says something stupid. Maybe I could even exaggerate things a little bit, so he could beg me with that sweet sweet tongue of his. What the…keep it together woman!

“I figured you were from an African country, the accent. I didn’t know how to say it without sounding rude, so I…”

“You’re fine,” I smiled, “I don’t think it would have been rude.”

“You miss home?” he asked, and then suddenly, I began to reminisce on the ‘good ole days’ back home.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I miss my home, I miss the people, I miss being in a place with culture, I miss the food- the tasty, spicy food.”

I said the food bit with my eyes closed, licking my lips, and daydreaming of some hot pounded yam and egusi soup. God I miss home!

“So I take it you’re not too fond of the food here,” he asked, looking almost sad.
I am confused for a split second; is he such a patriot?

“Oh,” my eyes light up at the realization- the restaurant, his restaurant. “The food here is great actually, not as much spice, but I love it. Except for the part where some sauces and the chicken are sweet. I like my chicken spicy, not sweet; that confuses me a lot. But the food here is amazing!” “Honest,” I added for emphasis, hoping he’d believe me.

“It’s fine,” he sounded like a defeated child, “you don’t have to like my food.”

Aw hell! Mummy warned me, but I didn’t listen. She warned me to stop being so darn picky and choosy, and try to be adventurous for a change, but nooooooo, I just have to hold the whole world to my ridiculous standards. Ugh! I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

“I’m sorry,” I said, almost begging, “adjusting has just been difficult, even though it should have gotten easier after two years.” I felt so embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I tend to be quite picky.”

Suddenly, it looked like Goliath just grew a size bigger. I pushed the plate of food away as I fought back the urge to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he put his hand over mine, “it’s just that thinking of some Nigerian hunk cooking you your favourite spicy meal makes me a little bit sad.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter that erupted from what seemed to be my stomach.
“You really think I’d leave you for some Nigerian hunk just cos he can make spicy food? I might as well leave you for myself then.”

He smiled like a little boy who just found out his crush likes him back. The next thing that came out of my mouth was really deadly. I should have thought this through, but by the time I realized that, it was too late…

oyinbo- Yoruba term for white person or pertaining to the Caucasian race.

egusi soup- A Nigerian dish. It is a soup made from melon, usually accompanied by a carbohydrate morsel.

Guest Feature: Yemisi A. Ikuomola (II)

MY FIRST LOVE

PART 2

A MINUTE OF YOUR DAY

I hate to bother you with my thoughts like this
But I just cannot help the many questions that pop up
Who else would understand and appreciate them
If not the one involved?
Why this coming back together?
How did it happen?
Was it premeditated?
Was it planned?
Who initiated it?
Were we too hasty?
Did we think things through?
Are the feelings mutual and genuine?
Was there any emotional coercion?
Was there any guilt trip?
Did we take the best course of action?
On my part, I wonder:
Was it so easy for me to be in again? Definitely not
But I could not resist the truth any longer
I had it buried for too long, just needed to admit it to myself
What is your perception of me?
Do you sense genuine emotions or an adventurous mood?
Did you expect what you got? Did you get what you expected?
What are your own true motives?
Are you desirous of a lasting relationship or just in need of company?
Do you mean all you say and write?

My answer? We both had longings long buried
Which time never healed and fate only had one option:
To earth them at the appropriate time
My heart is so believing and trusting
That I think it might be playing tricks on me sometimes
Or am I just plain naïve about the issues of life?
All I can think of is that I feel love afresh!
If it is wrong, then I never want to be right
This is just so wonderful!

Like a young lady falling in love for the first time
I want to experience all that I missed in my youth
Passionate love
Elusive? I think not
If I can feel the way I feel then I am capable of genuine love again
I miss you greatly, I miss you every minute of the day
I wish I could have you in my arms always
Alas! You are thousands of miles away
But I know that very soon
We shall be together again
And that one day we shall be united forever
Pipe dream? I think not!
Whatever the mind can conceive is achievable
IF the feelings are mutual.

What bond of perfection to have a life from you within me
To give life to another of you
Then my love will be fulfilled
If all this is not love
Then I dare say that the dictionary is yet to be complete.

You came back and turned my world upside down, inside out
And I am loving every moment of it
Thoughts of you and our tomorrow keep me awake all night
I no longer dread it, but actually look forward to it
It feels good to have a positive scenario to ruminate about
I don’t know about you, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you
If we are on the same page, what is to stop us?
I love you and mean it with my whole being
Never felt like this before, never expressed it like this before
Never more positive, never more forward-looking
Go on my Love, tomorrow will be okay
If we keep on believing that what we have found
Is indeed true!

You are my First and True Love!
Thank you for coming back to me.

First written in October 2004
Updated October 2014

© Yemisi A. Ikuomola

Guest Feature: Yemisi A. Ikuomola

MY FIRST LOVE

PART 1

YESTERDAY, TODAY AND TOMORROW

Like a young lady falling in love for the first time
I find myself longing for him
The sound of his voice makes my heart merry
His laughter elicits joy in my heart
I could listen to him all day crooning in my ears
I wish I could make every minute with him an eternity.

The joy of reunion after decades have passed
To see how little has changed in the feelings
In fact, they are stronger and more meaningful
See how human attempt at separation is foiled
By the simple nature of love
I wonder now how I ever let go of you so easily
Naivety I put it down to, now I know better.

But wait a minute! We should not be here
But the pull of real love is something
No human power can stop
Once again, my First Love
He says he loves me and wants me back, for good
I believe him
It is also important what I feel.

At last I know that I am capable of real love
I can feel love
I can give love
I can share love
I can receive love
I can be loved!
Love is real
I am only human.

The pain of parting is awful, it is indescribable
The lump in the throat cannot be swallowed
But parting at some points is inevitable, albeit temporarily
But parting so soon after the reunion is painful
But duty beckons on both sides, obligations await us
Out of sight but very much together in the spirit
Human emotions have no physical boundaries
I would not restrict mine, once bitten, twice shy.

Once again, the longing for his voice becomes an obsession
Love, lust, infatuation? Call it whatever, Love is my definition!
I never knew I could write a poetry of love
Tear after tear; toss after toss, sleep has become elusive
I pick my pen and paper as the words well up in my head
I cannot control the flow, I write, I write
It is so fulfilling to put your thoughts on paper
I hope he gets to read it one day.

My First Love, you will always be my only Love
The only thought that will keep me going
Is of when I shall behold your physical face again
To touch your face, to see you smile
To throw your arms around me, to wipe my tears away
To lay my head of your chest and hear you tell me it is okay
To hear the sound of your snoring deep in sleep like a baby
To cuddle you in my arms and watch you toss and turn
In absolute serenity, you nestle your head snugly
Knowing the one who holds you cares deeply
Then I know we find comfort in each other’s arms
I long for such moments everyday
The memories linger sweetly
I face another long, lonely night
But with lovely thoughts of you I will be okay

First written in October 2004
Updated October 2014

© Yemisi A. Ikuomola

Mine (8)

The parking lot attendant had yelled at us, and threatened to call the police, but David appeared not to be moved. I was scared for my life, so scared that I did not know when I blurted out, “please o! I’m here on a student visa. My mother will kill me if I get arrested o! Please!” in the most African tone you could imagine! For some strange reason, David found this humorous, and did not stop going on about it until we got home; to his apartment. “What is this? This isn’t my hotel”, I was genuinely confused. “I’m sorry, I missed the part where we decided you were going back to your hotel.” Stupid grin again. Ugh!!!!! I had to call Yvonne, and tell her. My phone. Oh no! I must have left my phone at the restaurant earlier on. Yvonne was going to talk my ear off when I got back. David opened my door, and held my hand as I got out. His chauffeur was there to take the keys, and take the car to the appropriate parking space.

“So, you want to tell me about the young man whose sins I’m paying for?” he asked as he filled my glass. “The wine looks like blood”, I said. “Don’t try to change the topic”, he shot me a stern look. I shuddered a bit. “Philip. First everything. Serious relationship, etc. Turned out to be an a-hole. Nothing glamorous.” He sat opposite me. “Then why did last night trouble you so much? So much that you would refuse to answer my calls?” “Who says I was troubled?” He stared long, and hard at me. “Please stop.” “You’re a woeful liar.” I had to laugh, the way he had said it was so funny. He was right though, I was lying. “Look, people’s hearts get broken on a daily basis. Why should mine be any different or special?” I hesitated. “It happened too quickly…not even up to a week. Doesn’t speak too well about my person.” “And me?” he asked, “what does it say about mine?” “It’s different for you, you’re a man. It’s like another trophy for you.” He laughed. “Well, glad to finally be scoring one after all these years”. “Yeah right. You expect me to believe that?” “Why not?” he laughed, “you think everyone gets with someone in less than a week, like you.” A. Spear. Passed. Through. My. Heart.

He looked at me dead in the eyes, no emotions whatsoever. “That’s what you want to hear right? You’re a cheap slut, a common whore. The world today has problems because you fell stupidly in love with someone you thought had your interests at heart. Now why don’t you go kill yourself because the world hates you because you’ve made a couple of bad calls.” I clenched my chest and begged for him to stop. I fell out of my chair, onto the ground, and cried. “He said he loved me, how couldn’t I have know better, seen the signs? It wasn’t just the heartbreak, it was the humiliation, when all the lies and deceit were revealed. It was the shame from everyone laughing in my face. It wasn’t just a breakup, it was a loss of my dignity. I just imagined him bragging to himself about how it took a while, but he still got what he wanted in the end…” I curled up on the floor, crying like a baby. David gathered me up in his arms, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m really sorry.” He took me to the couch where he let me cry in his arms. I stopped when my head began to hurt, and I concentrated on the rhythmic patter of his breathing instead. He kissed my forehead…

“Stacy, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…I…you just shouldn’t beat yourself up like you do. You are genuinely beautiful, in and out, and no one has the right to make you feel less; not even you.” Something flashed across his eyes when he said that last part; something like anger, but mixed with something darker. “But I’m sorry”, he continued, “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I was a total ass, and for that, I beg your forgiveness.” He had a point, I was allowing myself wallow in self-pity, and he was a total ass for practically screaming those hurtful things at me, but I needed to hear them; he was right, I had to let Philip go, for good. I ran my fingers through his hair, and let my lips graze his lightly. “My head hurts.” “I have some Aspirin. But let’s get lunch first, then depending on how you feel, we’ll know whether to go ahead with the medication.” “Yes mummy,” I blurted out without even thinking. He let out a small chuckle, and kissed my forehead. Dang! I believe the headache just left the vicinity!

Random Lines to Make a Story- with Joy, Khawla, and Jewel

The boy walked into the forest. The tree branch tripped the boy. And Uncle Sam said “it wasn’t me”. There was a big pile of leaves and he slipped all the way down, and the boy cried “wolf”. The wolf chased after the boy until he met his doom. He was hit by Rafiki on a chocolate bar. And he saw into his future which consisted of three blind mice running in circles. The first blind mouse was named Paul, and he was addicted to sugar. The second blind mouse was named Bon Qui Qui who worked in the fast food chain, but only because that was her side hustle. The third blind mouse was a fairy godmother, and they would each help the boy on his journey towards becoming a man.

He was a Woodstock (a Hippie), and he wore Birkenstock, bell bottom jeans that were ripped down the side. When he farted, there was fairy dust that formed the fairy godmother. The fairy godmother introduced the boy to marijuana, but only so he could create art, calling him little Basquiat. On his journey of artistry, Bon Qui Qui developed the boy’s voluptuous body so that he could completely fill all his pictures. He escalated to such high status in the art world that he was able to build a cabin in San Francisco. However, in his cabin, he developed diabetes and died of heart failure because Paul slipped sugar into all his meals and drinks. This resulted in his arteries being clogged, and his eventual death.

The End.