Ruth Azenabor

Biography: The dream is to bring these pretty little words to life. And I'd love for you to join in. 💚 IG: _theruthright

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Ruth Azenabor
Monday 9 August 2021


Humans, across the street;

Humans, under the weight of the sun.

These same humans, toiling and striving.

At the same time complaining,

Lamenting about the weather, the lack.

About anything, everything.

Humans, wailing when one of them goes down,

Recognizing the so called vanity of life,

This futile struggle they've been trapped in.

But yet again,

Getting up the next morning, in search of daily bread.

I ask myself where it all ends,

When it all ends.

And if there's still an opening to our end's end.

We strive, we toil.

Bring life and bury.

These same humans,

Those humans across the street.



Ruth Azenabor
Wednesday 4 August 2021

Dear Mama

For my children she'd always say.

From that moment her feet touched the ground each morning;

She set her entire focus on us.

Even at night; there she stood, right behind us.

It was better than a 24 hour doctor service, I tell you.

She'd rather cloth them and stay naked.

It was like a switch, one which either flip belonged only to her children.

Selfless, like the traditional African woman.

Of course she would get angry, but didn't she always forgive?

'Don't you worry' was the phrase, somehow she always fixed it.

I'm hoping to be a better version of you, when I become a mama.

Dear Mama.



Ruth Azenabor
Friday 30 July 2021


They said it had cold hands; death.

But what I felt, was the warmth of my tears; 

Burning hot on him.

I also felt those frantic thuds, coming from my chest. 

My lungs begging to let go.


It had happened now,

And I agreed that it was over;

It wasn't so difficult accepting that point.


The only problem, was I wanted to be over as well.

There was no way I could continue alone.

We had it all planned out, Nkem and I;

And this abrupt departure of his, wasn't a part of our plan.


They began to console me, to say ndó

But it didn't stop the aching in my bones.

The realisation only hit harder.

It was then; that death's hands, started to feel cold.




Ruth Azenabor
Monday 26 July 2021


That thing, it landed on me. Whatever it was.

And then, it went pitch black.


Believe me I tried, it just wouldn't work.


My eyes, they wouldn't dislodge from their lids.

The darkness, it was caving in. I could smell it now.


I could only hear the words fading, my name. Once, twice.

I heard the footsteps too, calculated and panic coated. They were mine. 

My heart pounding against my chest.

I could feel the wetness on my cheeks. It happened so fast.

Right after that thing; whatever it was, landed on me.



Ruth Azenabor
Thursday 22 July 2021

Dear Music

My memories, moments in laughter and tears.

My solace, comfort in the time of need.

Time travel, my true time machine.

The inner joy, behind smiles unexplained.

Those beats, every line, every tune.

Cherished, cocooned, desired.

Wrapped in that jar, that jar that never stops getting bigger.


Does it get hard? Don't you always put me back on track.

You're in my heart, you're in my head.

And only I understand your ways, though describing words fail me.

Dear Music, My Music.




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