The Poetry Marathon

Ma would made me sit in my fav chair while she fed me

flaked corn has the magic to lift me higher like an elixir till now

maybe it is in the taste or paste that accompanies the flakes down

always a delight night and day, then and now

If I have to choose it would always be corn flakes

either on holidays after school or in the class or near the lake

the sheer ease of preparation and the crunchiness is always a lift

cannot think of a better way to enjoy my fav flakes with creamy milk

Any day Ma was too tired to cook was my best day

for sure you know it is flakes that would make the day

and my smiles were always as wide as the arc of the rainbow

till now flakes have the same effect on my palate and the rainbow

Easy prep it

Eat it drink it snack it

The taste is always in it.

life does not owe you anything, even if you think so,

love does not owe you anything, even if someone loves you too,

happiness is not necessary, neither is sadness,

the way you live is dependent on none but you,

if you get luck and find life or love, celebrate; move, and do,

there is no assurance, or guarantee, that the next track is for you,

moving quickly as a deer does not make you succeed too

it is in the doing that you learn most, not in the schooling,

snoring under the stream will not make you a fish,

neither will wearing a cassock make you a priest,

life does not owe you anything, even if you think so,

there is no assurance, or guarantee, that the next track is for you,

if you listen well you might catch a fly with chopsticks,

or the fly will blur your vision and complicate your mission,

life will come to you if you can wait and not fly off the handle,

this is when life pays what it owes for your patience.

From the picture, she smiled at only me

From underneath her eyes, danced not a fickle smile, men

Surrounded by family and friends, her smile was for only me

Her face is lined with million words, words of depth mien

She is a wife, a mother, a leader and a daughter

She plays these roles well and far better

I have always wonder

Why the maker

Made them this stronger

Do not know if I can role-play well

There is an assurance pretty yell

That the girl in the picture has the capacity

To sit

To fit

All of the roles now, later and hereafter

Hello me,

The last time I saw you was during our times in the village. Our secondary school environment was soothing. Apt for learning. The luscious green and unhurried lifestyle was calming. Now that you have come to the city, how is it been with you? Have you completed your uni education? Have you aged? Or matured? Have you married? Or parried?

Life in the city has a way of turning one into a harassed dog. Pretending to be busy. You are looking over your shoulders. Looking over the boulders. Running after things not lost. Running after things long lost. Running after things that exist. Running after things that do not exist. Creating a hill out of a molehill. And a molehill out of a hill.

Have you also joined the rat race? And become a rat that can never win the race? Are you engaged in the unseen race to nowhere? Or you are being pushed to embark on the visible race that leads to jeopardy? Please, avoid this tragedy.

I have moved on. I have left the city. But the city refused to leave me. It is a tragedy. I have also moved from my last post. I have moved to the next post. I am now running from one pillar to the next post. Please, avoid this predicament.

If I am wrong, correct me. You are married with children. I guess right. Keep yourself away from the hawks. The skimpily dressed ladies. They cannot satisfy you. They cannot be satisfied. They will not satisfy you. You cannot satisfy them. So, what is the sense in meddling with them? Please, avoid this predicament.

Let me summarise my letter. Do not run after things not lost.

Like the sunflower, he opens his heart

Please, do not pull it apart

Living in the present is difficult

That is life of the occult

As hard as hardback, it is hard to turn

Right or left, near or far

Please, make him stay today

It is a road that leads to ray

Life of knitting and sewing

Have made her finger nails not more than a dwarf

Nothing can make them longer and tender

Knitting have made them stronger and tender

He would prepare cheddar cheese soup

Serve with fine wine and flour

It is a delicacy she enjoys

It is what brings her joy

It is her space

Please, do not disturb her pace

It is not an issue of race

It is her place not to please

Without a fridge

The sun was her preservationist

Without a bathroom

The family did it in the open

Without a microwave oven

Cold meal was a religion

Coal-pot cooker was a luxury

Its glow embers kept her cold at bay

But not strong enough to keep the polio away

It snatch her only daughter

Had medicine was here

Malaria would not have had her

One hundred years ago

As if the world does not exist

Bach’s cello transports me to the place where time does not exist

It is not the music though

It is the music through

Calming as the sea

Listen you would see

It is the ambience, the cadence

Adieu, Bach

If the woods are lovely, dark and deep

As Robert Frost shared in Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, 

I would rather flip the page and leap

I would rather move on and enjoy the evening

Why bother with a scary wood

When I can share in my hood

Memories that would never die

With my guy

There lay open the slate

clean as a whistle

and straight

ready to drink some

unchained thoughts

and untrained words

why do these nagging dogs

visit during my me time

and must it be during my shower time?

You would have thought it is not the slate

as it comes as it would

ready and dry as a wood

its intensity creates immensity

its press is a mess

the faucet locks in protest

not a drip anymore!

must these thoughts visit during my me time?

and in the bath?

The mind does not mind

does not mind the place or time

all it does is unleash itself

wave of thoughts and thoughts and thoughts

anywhere, everywhere, anyhow, any time

until the faucet angrily opens up

splashes water everywhere for my bath!

It is safe to be here. Now. It is comfortable to be here. Now.

It is pleasant to be here. Now. It is appealing to be here. Now.

Here, you do not have a Putin breathing down your neck. Or annexing your territory. Or questioning your association.

Here, you are free to express your inner most thoughts without looking over your shoulders.

With the quiet note of the flute playing in the background, accompanying each stroke of your key, you are free, and completely enveloped by the sound of soothing music and oblivion of the madness unveiling on the other side of here.

Here, is a place that is free and devoid of political turmoil, oil spillage,

school shooting and school looting,

suicide and suicide note,

royal wedding and royal divorce,

football fans and football fanatics,

poverty and wants,

remorsefulness and regrets,

drugs and addiction,

double standards and low standards,

diseases and deaths.

This is a safe place to be. The Poetry Marathon platform is a sane place, a safe place, a place to place my plate, a place to place my plait, a place to place my, never mind.

Rarzack Olaegbe is here now.

As he was in 2020. As he was in 2021. That makes it the Trinity.

A journalist with a vested interest in financial technology or fintech, as it is widely known. Used to publish an internationally circulated niche magazine for the fintech ecosystem. Run a syndicated weekly column in four platforms. A communication advisor to some fintech firms. TEDx curator. And still searching for more. Always curious. Always learning.

Always optimistic.

Always realistic.

Not fanatic.

Writing is a tool of expression. Because there are always stories to tell. If not about fintech firms and the ecosystem. It is about online banking platforms. Or fintech unicorns. Or would-be unicorns. Or venture capitalists. Or angel investors. Or cyber fraud. Or fintech brands. Or generating content for interested clients. Or persons. Or platforms. Or Poetry Marathon.

It is a privilege to be here. And now. I feel safe. In the comfort of this eminent group of renowned poets.

Ever learning.

Ever will be.

Because You inspire me.