Sunday Akinbamido

Biography: Sunday Yemi Akinbamido is an erudite Programmer, a Poet and Preacher of the good news. His philosophy of life is based on the phrase "you can't take it with you", "For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out." 1 Timothy 6:7 -KJV.

Sunday Akinbamido's Profile

Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 23 September 2022

Quest for Yarinyan

Neither too short nor too tall,

An untapped raw talents, the epitome of African beauty.

Moving round the globe in search for her.

Neither with arrogance nor fill with pride,

But enshrine in values and norms of our rich tradition,

As her dimples engulfed gloominess at a sight.


In quest for a dark-skinned Fulani Girl of an European background,

Traversing Zazzau kingdom as the pendulum swings.

Neither with artificial eye lashes nor painted brows.

But a stilettos, cat-walking to the rhythm of our African rhyme.


I won't implored you to join me in the quest,

Neither with fear nor doubtfulness.

But brandishing in God's wisdom, enlighten my steps.

Neither with a lengthy nose nor with a heifer.

As the bright day unveil a cute Fulani girl.
Milking the cow... then, adding to my selection criteria...
Neither normadic nor cow milker
But a cute dark Fulani girl of European accent.

Neither a sanguine nor a dull rotund
It's a quest for African sepia a slim moonwalker.
Neither in the restling game "Sharo" nor thin lips
For I shall not take whipping turns.

11/Nov/2011 poem  from my days in Zazzau.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 12 August 2021

Mulatto's Scar

The map on his scalp marred him,

Little Dutch, little Greek.

A fake Mulatto, terror of village "Abileko",

Intruder of "Opeke's" fruit.

His eyes like an halogen bulb in extreme darkness.


A workaholic of underneath world,

And he peep from window to door

Longing for his adventure,

Ruminating inside him!

Kleptomania? No.....

It's a game of chance.


Jumped into outskirts hut,

Zealously enjoying his potential plan

As darkness submerged.


And he untied the strings of it's dies sac,

Neglecting choice in a game of chance.

But he was bolted out, with a loud bang.

Leaving an impetuous Mulatto scar.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 12 August 2021

Never' Never Land

We shall meet in never-never land,

Though we hid our feelings,

Waving our way through the lounge,

Heading towards an ever' ever goals.

We shall meet in never-never land

Where Wind never blew hot,

Where Sun never-never set,

Where Rose ever' ever blossom.  

We shall meet in never-never land

Holding her soft hands,

Gambolling, like a lamb in meadow

As her sweetened voice set in an ever' ever smile.

We shall meet in never-never land,

As we cruise on, unraveling the mystery.

Reading through the huge book, that nature and her

Have written in my ever ever mind.

We shall meet in never' never land,

As she deeps my hands into the ink pot.

And inscribed her name boldly on mine mind wallpaper.

And it's merry-making in never-never land.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 24 September 2020

A Squirrel Hunter

Haphazardly moving like a horny cockerel

Our maverick energetic brother

Climbing palm trees with bare hands

Beholds an acrobatic lad

Sometimes he jumps from trees to trees.

Somersaulting, sending the ferns and fauna into ecstatic frenzy 

Like a footballer who just scored a fantastic goal

The dead leaves brush up like ocean waves

Adding much swagger to his hunting game

Atimes, he captures a king squirrel in a hunting spree

No gain-saying he's a master of the game

Our brother is a fish

Swimming skills top-notch

The best among his peers

He won our heart,

With a thousand pounds of acrobatic display.

The squirrel married the Okra soup

The aroma drew some waters outta our buccal cavities

Pounded yam in a solemn prayer

Inside the hunched calabash.

Pounded yam: the king of food

Amala is a potent medicine

White Pap comes to succour with akara

In the absence of the King of food

Mould in the shape of Idanre hills

We eat, till our bellies  protrude

This would sustain us till moonlight comes

As we sing to the moon and stars

Post mortem for the squirrel's bones on the slabs of various plates

Till we yawn and rest on the arms of the coming night 

And he takes us in as we fall asleep

laying us on the fidgety-bed cushioned with old rags.

Awaiting the next day's adventures in a dreamland 

This is the untold story of an unsung hero

Our brother, a squirrel hunter.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 13 February 2020

Farewell in Harmattan

Amidst the palm trees, a farewell in Harmattan.

As life continues, although friend ditched me,

At a critical point close to vulnerability,

Crying will not stop it, thinking will not stop it.

Ho! How could parting be miserable like this?

Atmosphere was tensed, as I gasped for fresh air

To wipe away boredom, boredom loud and clear

Tho' no boredom amidst palm trees.

They plume together, bud together and fashioned together.

Exhibiting their fruitfulness.

As wind blow them together, remain in sunshine together.

Rain fall on them together,

Shooting and spreading fronds together.

Bond together till last hour comes.

How joyful would it be?

If men were stationed like palm trees,

Rejoicing forever, parting no more.

Written By Akinbamido Yemi


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 17 May 2019

Which Way?

In the valley of meadow,
Thousands of Nightingales,
Weighted with labyrinth of thoughts,
Melancholy unleashed,
Juxtapose knot of grasses.

Thousands of Nightingales,
Singing the songs,
Which way to go.
What a jumble tone?

Who ken the map of future!
Entangled in cobweb path,
Thousands of years in desert,
Singing which way to go.

On a flight to the mountain,
Seeking which way to go.
Thousands of Nightingales,
Lost their wing in a gale.
All prayed hard to ken,
Only God knows the way.


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 17 May 2019

A Bicycle Learner

Meager economy of Aye-Ile,
Is like a bicycle learner.
Agitating to maintain equilibrium,
Without enough strength and buoyancy,
Playing around barely,
Without a pair of sandals to his dusty foot,
Without a vest covering is masculine chest,
Without wrinkles of groaning in his face.
As he zealously stick to his bicycle.
Though, it's tyre wore a poverty-look,
And a sharpen iron as pedal.
With his eagerness to ride on,
A geyser of enjoyment spring out.
Deep in his face written satisfaction,
Though, the saddle is a punching machine,
Created holes in his pants.
Sure he would press on to his destination,
As these mushroom and sprout up,
Prospects of African child.

Copyright (C) 2004. Akinbamido Yemi Sunday


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 10 May 2019

Across The Niger

I worked laboriously on the idiot machine,
That failed to send my thoughts, across the Niger.
As it displayed a message,
That weary my mind "User Busy!"

I peeped out, in mid-night
If I can get a Dove,
To convey my message across the Niger.
For several hours I waited. Where is Dove?
In a strange land, "User is Busy!"

I was impregnated with thoughts,
That momentarily pressed my mind.
My eyes were red, As I began to labour
Like a woman in travail.
And it beep twice the user is busy.

Setting it on to dialed for ever,
As I watched the light going-off,
And the thoughts in me dozing-off,
Then, I married my bed. "User is busy".

The Cathedral bell calling for the  morning mass.
Tinkling, teared my heart out.
I profusely weird my words,
Waiting to see if "User is Busy".

I pondered angrily that I would smashed it.
But to no avail the baby was born,
And the poor little one cried.
User busy, User busy, "Message Sent!"
Across the Niger to the one you love.

Copyright (C) 2004. Akinbamido Yemi Sunday


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 4 April 2019


When is it going to end?
Why are we suffering?
A spring of waterland,
With it's inhabitant thirsty.
Faces of sorrow, grief and fear,
Where there is pool of joy.

When is it going to end?
Why are we suffering?
A stepping-stone to thrive,
At the verge of ruin.
Our warrior's nerves paralyzed,
In the battle field.

When is it going to end?
Why are we suffering?
Living in a treasury cave without a penny.
Our harvest time,
Unlimited days of lamentation.
A reward of sin or wrath of God!

When is it going to end?
Why are we suffering?
Finding way to triumph,
Thousands regenerating.
In pain we eat, in pain we dance.
Only God knows why we suffered.

Inept we are in the spirit of sorrow,
Waiting for death,
To strike our eyes,
For tears of joy.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 4 April 2019

A Funny Girl

I met a funny girl, as beautiful as a rose
And cool like a Lilly at the river source
The humility in her smile makes me
To remember and feel the coolness, wonderful scenery
Under the Bamboo tree, there when we've been baked
By the shinning sun on our way back to the Village.

Everything you do,
The way you walk,
The way you respond whenever I speak,
The way you sing when you are elated.
Or at times when you feel like drumming,
All seems poetic.

I have a deep thought,
And it prompt some questions.
Why is thought about you invade my memory?
And why is it difficult to forget you?

Your voice, when you speak thrill me.
You trigger me and place me,
On top of a Platform.
And every step I take,
Every word I say,
Every thought in me,
Is what you've turned to dramatic suspense.

Ho! Funny girl could you let me know
What is in your mind?
Ho! Funny girl could this be
A connection string?
Ho! Funny girl will you play with me
When I also feel like playing?

All what I think, all what I picture,
Is all about you Funny Girl!


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 15 March 2019

Pleasant Sight

I giggled and laughed out loud, 
While gazed at the memorial statue, 
Near the narrow road in south-east London.
It cracked my ribs and brought memory of "the forest of a thousand demons".
His short gun, a replica of the one described in the novel.

I often connected to the childhood days while I passed-by
As it took me out of my immediate environs.
To one of the storyline, 
A pointer to where I stopped the last time.

A flashback of those days when my Mum read Koku Baboni
As I patiently listened and waited for how it will end.
These went on for a while, recycling the old storylines.
Till I stopped, right there at Trafalgar Square.

Ho, the beautiful Trafalgar Square,
Brought the memory of the lonely Londoner.
And I remebered, I've impressed it in my mind that
I can never spend my days in greater London
Like the lonely Londoner.


Sunday Akinbamido
Saturday 15 September 2018

Never Far Away!

Now that I'm near, drinking from the same stream.
Awakening by the same timezone, cook-a-doodle-doo.
Now that we sings and dance,
To the tune of the chirping cricket at sunset,
Before the moonlight tales.

Before you drench your blouse with tears.
Before you become the talk of the town.
Before they push you away to the solitary room.
Before your beauty gloom and your radiant sun set.

It's better you jump, if you can't fly.
It's better you crawl, if you can't walk.
It's the set time, to ride on the shoulder of the whirlwind; 
And look for the love of your life.
Before your love leave the shore of Africa,
To sojourn in far away cities.
Then, it will be too late.

Meditate and think on what to do, to bridge the gap.
Before the cockcrow, after the dew drops.
Before it's too late to connect and heal a broken heart.
For the love ones never far away, no matter the distance.


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 17 August 2018

We've been waiting

It's almost a decade,
We've been waiting for you to come home.
Come home and gladden our hearts.
We've made your royal bed and laid it with golden duvet.
The curtains, blinds was made of rosy flowers.

We've paved the walk-way and tiled the floors with diamond slates.
Near the fountain, is blooming lawn,
Fascinating scenery, arousing a welcoming scent.

We've bought your lovely acustic guitar.
As we've been waiting for you to sing.
We've been waiting to hear your angelic voice.
We've been waiting to dance with you.

We would love you to come by the evening flight.
So you can behold the beaming bright and beautiful chandeliers.
Beautifying the gateway.

Our heart cries out, longing for your coming
Every seconds, come home our dearest princess.


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 15 June 2018


I took out my Goggle and spanned over the platform.
Right there in DELPHI with my JAVA teacup.
I stylishly ignited my Tobbaco pipe made from PEARL station,
Like a CODEIGNITER champion.
Observed the surf spots and gallantly surfed the seashores.
Overridden all odds, just becuase I'm independent.

I scrolled over and over again,
Through the city of ADA,
And I bathed with SOAP, RESTful of COOKIES and GIF
Just because I'm independent.

As I was catching fun,
At the Lakeside Beach.
All ladies envied me, just because I'm with OOPS!


Sunday Akinbamido
Sunday 6 May 2018


Journey of Makanre, a pligrimage of tourism.
Zooming in the morning mist,
There in the valley beside the mountains.
Cruising the lorry through the narrow route,
Awakening the wonders.

Makanre! Wow Makanre!
Let's talk about the forest that fly-by.
Sing the songs of the hills and horizion.

Makanre! Ho Makanre!
The sweet aroma of the jungle.
Sing of the magical footprints,
And of the engraved ancestor's autograph.
Sing of the sepulcher of ancient wonders,
And of Noah's Ark.
Odua's crown that bring peace.

Makanre! Magical land of awesome people,
Utter your magical words.

Copyright (C) 2004. Akinbamido Yemi Sunday


Sunday Akinbamido
Saturday 21 April 2018

Ode To Fledging Stars

To the fledging stars that crowd up,
In starry night.
Hello! who throw this charming party?

It's gonna groovy tonight,
It's gonna be till dawn,
Till when the sun befriend us.

Yeah! It's heavenly bodies party.
Jupiter with various juices.
Champagne gushing out from earth crust,
And the milky-way indeed full of milk.

It's gonna groovy tonight,
It's gonna be till dawn,
Till when our bellies protrude.


Sunday Akinbamido
Sunday 22 April 2018

Gracious Words

In despair, during cold war
At the peak for a fight, a seasoned gracious words;
Calmly cool the tense warmongers

Sweet to the soul; healing to the bone marrow.
A honeycomb, seasoned with flavour,
Is the conversation of the peacemakers.

That turned the hardened hearts,
And beat their swords into plowshares,
Spears into pruning hooks,
And ballistic missile into a tourist rocket.

Ho! Gracious words.
Turning the Earth, into a fun-filled Disney world.
Of more happiness, harmony and less conflicts.

Sweet to the souls, healing to the bones
And our world will merry again and again,
If we dare speak, gracious words.

For life and death are in the power of tongue.
Hence, speak now gracious words.


Sunday Akinbamido
Sunday 6 May 2018

Caribbean Mind

Bathing in Caribbean Ho! Jamaican.
Photographs of antiquities,
Hanging over the street wall,
Untraceable fossil of slaves orgin.

Given James and Smith,
Buried the history of African-American.

Cuban astrologers, Dominican genealogist
And Haiti historian gathered.

Linking the present with past,
And with one thought.....
Africa for Africans.

Copyright (C) 2004. Akinbamido Yemi Sunday


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 8 February 2018

Struck Dumb

When I couldn't say a word
Struck dumb half-way to the end of the lecture
As my students became a voice specialist
prescribed all sort of drugs ...

I kept struggling to utter some words
Struck dumb I was.
Jokingly they wanted to clear whatever block my vocal tract
With their broken JavaScript code..

Their suggestion was a therapy that put
A smile and dimples in my cheek.
And I windup the lecture with a class work...
less talk, more coding..
hmnn, hmmn, hmmn, and it ends.

Struck dumb at the park, signaled to the tricycle
And he moved back a little, 
Rant, I couldn't as I drove out calmly.

Muted I was for 2 days,
A call from my sister and mum
and the answer was...
hmnn, hmmn, hmmn, I couldn't talk.

As I pondered within me..
How would I teach when I couldn't speak,
How would I evangelize when I couldn't talk,
hmmn, hmmn, hmmn, I prayed silently.

Though, I've visited clinic.
Headache has gone, body temperature normal.
but its still, hmmn, hmmn,
till I used my Mum algorithm.

And there I was, testing, testing 
for the first time in 2 days I could hear myself speaking.
As I began to echo "Thank you Lord!", "Thank you Lord!"
As the testing parameter to my vocal tract function.


Sunday Akinbamido
Sunday 6 May 2018

Who Is Who Africa?

Who Is Who Africa?
The Mandiba of South,
A golden fish in a blue sea,
Ceased racisct submarine.

And Kwame of West,
The last breath in a vacuum,
Removed veil of slavery.

Who is who Africa?
Stared vacantly from deep,
The Kenyata of East,
A custom of peace in a sphere,
Traversed liberty.

And Garvey of Caribbean,
Sail the ship amidst Ocean,
To promise land.
Who is who Africa!

Copyright (C) 2004. Akinbamido Yemi Sunday


Sunday Akinbamido
Sunday 17 December 2017

Bring Back Our Girls

Bring back our girls.
The mothers of unborn generation.
The future leaders of our dear country.
The great Chibok girls.

Sing the songs all over the globe,
From Tokyo to sydney down to Kular Lumpur.
Hang the placard , show it in billboard.

Share the Agony, fear, miserable life
of the missing girls.
From New York City to Edingbrugh.

Shout out loud and let it reverbrate,
Till our voice is heard all over the nations.
Till our tears flow and gush out like Niagara falls,
Flushing terrorism right from sambisa forest
to a far away planet.

Will you bring back our girls now?
Our beautiful daughters that gladden our impoverished hearts,
When they play and dance antilogwu.
Though, their legs might have been very thin now.

Bring back our girls.
The future wives to our noble men.
Let the freedom begin now, wiping away neo colonialism.
Stand up to fight terrorism.

Till the earth weep no more. 
Could you please bring back our girls?

Copyright Akinbamido Yemi


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 9 November 2017

A sick Egret

No cattle to feed on,
as it rest it's flying wings.

A sick Egret,
standing aloof at the tip
of dead bamboo tree

And it stretches it neck a while
searching for a grashoppers.

Ho, it's a cool day in Lagos,
i think of the sick mobile policemen,
That hijacked all the buses at the park,
began the unusual thing this morning.

Will you take Panadol sick Egret?
or Earthworm that will make you warm?

Awaiting for the rising sun,
That will raise a dying Egret.

Hope today will be full of Misery.

Copyright (C) 2009. Akinbamido Yemi.


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 10 November 2017

I'm All Yours

I'm all yours,
The reigning queen of my heart.
You came into my life,
Like sunshine that engulfed the darkest hours.
You speak gently to the source of my inspiration,
To bring out ingenuity in me.

Coming together as one,
A step to greatness, empowerment for enlargement.

From coast to coast, I will sing of you.
You are Blessed Blessing,
Though there are things we share in common!
Is it the way you talk or the way you laugh?
Amazing, Quite Amazing.

What a wonderful Damsel of a noble birth.
The epitome of beauty character wise.

You'll be in my heart,
From this day on , now and forever.

Copyright (c) 2009 Akinbamido Yemi.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 9 November 2017

I remember

I remember the pretty damsel, amidst the choir a colorful display.
The music, the drum, the tambourine and the songs flows through her.
A whistle blower, the epicenter of rhythm, an epitome of beauty.

I remember I’m seen her for the first time and the last.
I remember it was her sent forth day, after a diploma course.
I remember she was highly praise by the vicar of her great work.
I remember how sad I was when I know she is leaving the city.

I remember when the vicar called all mother to pray for her
I remember they wish her long life, good husband and good job
I remember they wish her safe journey.

I remember I couldn’t believe she was no more after 2 days
I remember her life was like a mirage
I couldn’t have a chance to say a word to her.
I remember we are dust going back to dust.

I remember the whistle blower.


Sunday Akinbamido
Friday 1 September 2017

In Memory of Mrs A. O. Oloniyo

Mum, I couldn't easily fathom that you would be going too soon;

And that was the reason you showed up in my dream a fortnight before your demise.

The memory of my childhood flashed as I heard of your demise…

Was it of your efforts in teaching me how to read Yoruba Bible?

I still remember vividly, when I was assigned to read the last verse of the morning devotion Bible passage...

And gradually I could read a full passage...

 I could remember when I took the first position in Primary 3...

What you gave me was a special dish… Smile!

 I could remember the smack when I picked up a bad habit.

All these paid off and whenever I reminiscence

I always put my best in whatever I do...


My life would never have been complete if not that I passed through the tutelage of your motherly nurture from infant to childhood...

 It was divinely orchestrated and I wonder what I would have become without those norms and values you inculcated in me.


I feel unfulfilled for not seeing you before you left as I planned to...

But you left me with a good memory of my childhood,

All the lessons learnt and good teachings by you… are the memory I will live with all my life.


Rest In Peace, Mum.



Sunday Akinbamido
Saturday 14 January 2017

Bird in Bush

Bird in bush, the narrow route to where things blossom.
The feelings I could not share while passing-by.
Not like the thoughts I have on HA, HA road en route Eltham.

Bird in bush, and my heart leap
As the gentle voice impress, a few seconds
To a special place in the heart of London

Neither like the leap on Holloway road nor like the leap at Liverpool street.
Hey! Not like those that increase my heart beat. Not at all.
It's a bird in bush, a leap of joy.

In a subway en route Bluewater, we could not find a better one
But lost amidst varying options at Oxford street
Then, we sing lullaby through the nights
As we scroll through the city of Peckham
Glued like a Siamese twins.

Ho, It's bird in bush again, passing-by.


Sunday Akinbamido
Thursday 15 October 2015

Mother Teresa's Anyway Poem

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.



Excerpt from [Internet]


Sunday Akinbamido
Wednesday 30 September 2015

The Valley of Vision

Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly,
Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;
hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox
that the way down is the way up,
that to be low is to be high,
that the broken heart is the healed heart,
that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
that to have nothing is to possess all,
that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
that to give is to receive,
that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,
and the deeper the wells the brighter thy stars shine;

Let me find thy light in my darkness,
thy life in my death,
thy joy in my sorrow,
thy grace in my sin,
thy riches in my poverty
thy glory in my valley


Excerpt: from Our Daily Bread []


Sunday Akinbamido
Sunday 13 May 2018

I Love My Mama

I love my Mama I can’t deny.

She raised me up from infant bed.

I stayed in her belly for good nine months.

When I came to this world of war and crime

What she gave me first is a kiss of life.


I love my Mama, Mother Africa.

I recall childhood

When she played with me

She threw me up in atmosphere

To see beyond the sky, overcame nightmare.


I love my Mama, Mother Africa.

She offered her best for me to grow.

I love my Mama I can’t deny.


Sunday Akinbamido
Tuesday 8 September 2015


Hectic traffic, Police patrolled, threat level raised 

Fear of unknown looming as time fly-by, In Zazzau.


It tensed up, cloudy.

A fanfare to be, poisoned Atmosphere on Inauguration eve.

What a hard knock at my door, Monster!

Nope.  A pretty Lady, Northerner.


A frown-smile befriend my bravery,

And I asked.  Are you scared?

Yeah! I’m running away.


I felt grief is a luxury.

Some days ago, Agidigbo dance,

Scapegoat songs, 

Emanating from my neighbour overwhelmed the Environs.


Now she ran away!

….Sound of Agidigbo,

….Scapegoat songs,

….And the Atilogwu dancers, all ran away.


Now more and more people followed her

…As any sound of Agidigbo

…Plus Scapegoat songs

Is like a warring songs coupled with explosives


As the whole city turning to a cemetery

Nobody wants to be a Scapegoat

For it take a clever mind to dance Agidigbo.


Sunday Akinbamido
Tuesday 8 September 2015

Virus of the Mind

Malcom X on his floating Bed,

Daydreaming, blogging series of Events.

Past, Present and yet to be.


Bridging the Gap, damming the River.

Galloping through the mountains,

Like a young Reindeer.


In his mind, re-eventing the past.

Speaking to the beautiful Air Hostess,

He never approached.


Coffee, Tea or Juice? 

None! It's you I want.

A Cup of Water? No.


Malcom X on his floating Bed,

Out of turbulence, to Obudu Ranch.

Landing on Olumo rock.


Strolling, Cruising through Egbaland,

From Lafenwa to Sapon, down to Kuto

And Igbehin, his Childhood days.


Malcom X on his floating Bed,

Now at the City Gate, National Stadium.

Dribbling like a Soccer Star.


Malcom X on his floating Bed,

A month of Insomina, land him in Hospital.

As Doctor diagnose


Typhoid, Malaria parasite, Blood pressure 190 over 40

Yes. Take Lexoten 1 at Night for 4 days ....

No! It's Virus of the Mind.


Malcom X on his floating Bed,

Looping through, Nurses, Patients and Doctors

As He fainted, like a falling Mahogany.


Malcom X on his floating Bed,

Norton, Avas, Kaspersky? None!

All I want is Prototype IJK ..... XYZ.


Sunday Akinbamido
Tuesday 8 September 2015


From Piccadilly to Trafalgar square

Wishing to worship at Westminster Abbey

May be the heaven shall bestow favor

To behold and shake the Queen


Ho! London, Paris and Washington

It’s a thriller vacation

As I held my Camcorder popping out of the white Limousine

Capturing the intriguing, scintillating and the wonders


See Paris and die,

Long live the Queen,

God bless America.


At the Eiffel Tower, the prominent symbol

Having a bird’s eye view of the city of Paris and beyond

Ho! Heaven is real. The illumination at night

Enhanced the excitement connecting me to Paradise.


See Paris and die,

Long live the Queen,

God bless America. 


Cruising the magical route 66, the mother road startling

Natural wonders, cities, historic landmarks and entertainment venues

In the borough of Queens lies the magnificent J-F Kennedy Airport

Connecting to Heathrow.


See Paris and die,

Long live the Queen,

God bless America.


It echoes and fades out, turbulence, turbulence.

Loud and clear I heard it once, fasten your seat belt.

Emergency, the chanting of the Almajiris

With the humming noise of my neighborhoods Generators

Beclouded the turbulence as I woke up in Zazzau land.


Trending Now

Most Rated Poems

Recently Joined

FPG Feeds