Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Hello guys!!!

I have been suffering from what Eminem would remember only too well: Writer's Block. It seemed like I could no longer write; not on a whim, nor on a deadline. I hated the fact that I started blogging and abandoned it. I even dug up an old poem (Winding Paths), just so that my regular readers (bless your dear hearts!!) wouldn't be disappointed. Being the sort of person I am, I basked in my "writer's block", waiting for a deep wave of emotion to sweep over me and wash me back into the sea of inspiration. Apparently, as the popular (and I dare say, Aunty Dora) NAIJA saying goes, I de old.

What I chose to do instead was to put down on my blackberry, every thought that comes to mind. Yes Sah, the bb can be very useful. I started going to Thursday poetry sessions at Bogobiri and got inspired again, many thanks to folk like Wansie, Tolu and Ferdie.

Still adamant to find the same old high, I went scouting for old poems I had written, rather than try my hands at writing new material. Whilst thinking of my opening speech (which, in my opinion, is usually an artist's explanation) for a particular piece, I found myself writing this and thought it worthy of sharing, whilst waiting ....



What I love about artists is how we're able to express our emotions so unreservedly.
It is how open we are about a thought, a feeling, an emotion.
We let it work through us and run its course, knowing that it will not happen forever and without holding on to it, we're open to ne
w expressions the very next moment.
It doesn't make us fickle or unstable; it simply shows we have that key quality everyone needs to live well.... The ability to smell roses.

We can sing in one moment about how torn our
heart is and how we hate you for leaving; yet in the next we celebrate the beauty of love and swimming butterflies....
We can paint our pain and our joy so blatantly on one canvass.
We write words we would dare not speak to any human boldly on white paper.
We compose music that you'd gyrate to, make love to, meditate to, cry to....

We know you know the notes of our heart!
The tunes and strokes and cuts and innuendos that speak the love, the joy, the pain, the hurt, the Feelings that we're feeling!!
I love art.

So today, whilst I ponder on the subject and meaning of that ever evasive word, Love, I'll share some thoughts I'd written about two years ago, in a relationship I thought was made in heaven.

Here goes....




NB: I never performed that poem. Now, what does that say of me? I guess it served its purpose already! Yayyy!!!

Love, Diva.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Winding Paths (Vol. 1)

"Two men, each at a crossroads.
Their winding paths wound up in a meeting.

Earthquake. Rain. Platonics. Passion.

One road leads to a settlement.
The other to an adventure.
One man has lived an adventure.
The other has lived in settlements.
Questions are raised.
Matters arising...
Emotions are rising.
Fear has arisen.
But steadily, love rises... And thrives.

Winding paths in crimson collide.
Bloody bath for both hearts involved.
Co-incidents and common-ness consume.

"Shall I settle or submit to the unknown?" They ask, paused at the bus stop.

Decisions, contradictions, their world is turmoil.
But contentment weighs heavy as they consider walking same path.

Big news, bad news, new news.
A lot can change.
News is news, the dominoes are fallen.

Sort it out and let it settle.
Then take the journey all over again?

OR

Walk away wounded.
And start over still?"





(#I am a journey with winding paths... You must travel me)