The Lonely Guy

Matthew Adewale

Biography: A lovely person with good sense of humour. Love poetry to the core and I major in political science. "A political sagacity is not a gireot esparility but is a jimbolical gimbolism."

Matthew Adewale's Profile

Matthew Adewale

Saturday 25 January 2025

Come Dance With Me

Come dance with me beneath the moonlit sky,
Where stars weave whispers, and dreams can fly.
The earth hums soft beneath our feet,
A rhythm ancient, wild, and sweet.

Come dance with me where rivers flow,
Their waters sing secrets only they know.
We'll twirl to the song of the swaying trees,
Carried by the pulse of the evening breeze.

Come dance with me in fields of gold,
Where stories of sunlight and shadows unfold.
Our laughter will echo through valleys wide,
A melody of joy we’ll no longer hide.

Come dance with me through time and space,
In every fleeting, eternal embrace.
Together we'll write our hearts’ refrain,
A dance of love, unbroken, untamed.

Matthew Adewale

Monday 1 April 2024

From Pound to Potter: A Tale of Creation

In the pounding of yam, the mortar rings,

With each resounding strike, a rhythm springs,

But in the potter's craft, a gentler sway,

For clay's form yields to the artist's play.

The mortar, sturdy, its purpose clear,

To crush and blend, without a fear,

Yet in the potter's hands, a different grace,

Each touch, each turn, a delicate embrace.

With yam and water, the mortar's might,

Produces sustenance, a meal's delight,

But in the clay, there lies a hidden art,

A vessel shaped from earth, to hold a heart.

The pounding yam demands strength and force,

The clay pot, patience, a gentle course,

In mortar's grind, sustenance we find,

But in the potter's wheel, beauty's defined.

So as we pound and shape, let's not forget,

The difference in touch, a subtle set,

For in the mortar's strength and potter's hand,

We see two crafts, by which we understand,

That in creation's dance, both strong and light,

We find the essence of our human plight,

For in the mortar's crush and potter's turn,

We see the lessons of what we may learn.

Matthew Adewale

Monday 1 April 2024

Nestled Dreams

Through windswept skies, the roost awaits,

Where shadows dance in twilight's embrace,

Each wingbeat whispers tales of fate,

As homeward bound, they find their place.

In fields of gold, the nest stands tall,

A haven sought when daylight wanes,

Where memories linger, voices call,

And weary souls shed earthly chains.

With beating hearts, the journey's end,

As twilight's hues blend into night,

In home's embrace, all wounds amend,

And stars above proclaim their flight.

So let us learn from birds in flight,

Their lesson clear, in sky's vast dome,

That every path leads to the light,

When we return to roost, our own.

Matthew Adewale

Monday 1 April 2024

Resonance of Redemption

In shadows deep, betrayal's hand did creep,

A kiss of falsehood, friendship turned to dust,

Yet resonates in hearts, where trust does weep,

In every soul, the sting of faith betrayed, we must.

Denial's whispers, a coward's plea,

When truth stands tall, yet lips refuse its song,

In modern days, still we turn and flee,

From righteousness, we falter, doing wrong.

Upon the cross, redemption's weight he bore,

In agony, love's sacrifice displayed,

Yet now, indifference shuts the door,

To grace bestowed, in our world's charade.

But hark! From death's embrace, he rose again,

A beacon bright, in darkness' gloom,

In today's strife, his message does remain,

Of hope renewed, dispelling fear and doom.

Matthew Adewale

Tuesday 5 March 2024

The Seven Warriors

In the deep hill forest where shadows entwine,

Seven warriors, a fellowship divine.

Kako, the striker, with a baton of might,

Bold and courageous, his prowess takes flight.

Imodoye, the sage, wisdom his guide,

Through trials and tribulations, he'd confide.

In the wilderness, where danger is rife,

His knowledge is the shield that safeguards their life.

Akara Ogun, mystic and strong,

Half-man, half-deity, to whom demons belong.

Against the underworld, he waged a fight,

Guiding his people through the eternal night.

Olohun Iyo, with melodies sweet,

Songs that soothe, making danger retreat.

In the heart of chaos, his voice is a balm,

Calm in the storm, a forest's healing psalm.

Ifoye, adorned with feathers so rare,

Mystical aura, in the forest, he'd share.

A creature of wonder, a guardian true,

His presence alone, troubles undo.

Elegbeje Ode, a hunter profound,

Uncanny knowledge in the wild he'd expound.

Cunning and skill, he'd always employ,

To capture the creatures that roam and destroy.

Aramanda Okunrin, shape-shifting grace,

Turns to anything, in the forest's embrace.

Mysterious and powerful, a force untamed,

In the dance of shadows, his essence is framed.

Seven warriors in the deep hill's embrace,

Wild animals and demons, they bravely face.

With uncanny knowledge, they navigate,

Through the heart of the forest, a destiny innate.

Matthew Adewale

Tuesday 5 March 2024

Rhythms of the Falls

In the heart of Africa, where the sun kisses the earth,

Lies a hidden waterfall, its cascades a symphony of rebirth.

Mosi-oa-Tunya, they call it—the Smoke that Thunders,

Where the village children gather, their spirits unencumbered.

At dawn, when the mist rises and the birds stretch their wings,

The children emerge from thatched huts, their laughter like strings.

Kwame, barefoot and strong, wields his wooden pestle,

Pounding yam with purpose, creating sustenance for the vessel.

Adia, with eyes like the river, tends to the bubbling pot,

Her hands deftly stirring, coaxing flavors from what they’ve got.

Vegetables harvested from red soil, roots intertwined,

She weaves nourishment into the broth, a taste of life refined.

The waterfall sings to them—a lullaby of resilience and dreams,

Its spray baptizing their foreheads, stitching together life’s seams.

Ubuntu, they whisper—the interconnectedness of all souls,

From the pounding yam to the soup’s simmering bowls.

As the day wanes, the waterfall’s mist turns golden,

The children sit in a circle, their stories interwoven.

They share their passions—the poet, the farmer, the scholar,

Bound by the falls, they become a tapestry of valor.

And so, in this timeless dance, the village thrives,

Their occupations and passions entwined like beehive.

For the waterfall, the children, and the land—they know,

Their bond is eternal, a rhythm that continues to flow.

Matthew Adewale

Thursday 30 May 2019

Horrible Sight

I saw some weird things under the London sun.
Though, I will sing and talk of few.
The horrible sight of a guy that licked his booger.
As he sat down quietly in his inner chamber,
Pleasantly eating his nasal mucus.
I jabbed a friend seated beside to behold
The awful scenery before the double-decker change the view.

Then, we hopped down the London Bus,
Heading towards the Greenwich station.
Passed through the one that live a bogus life,
right there in the subway...

Keenly gazed at the yummy McDonalad's Burger
in the hand of the pretty one.
She bite a little, she zipped a little coffee
And she stepped aside; lighted the cigarrete
As the smoke billowed up in the sky, right there on the platform.
It was a horrible sight.

Matthew Adewale

Saturday 16 December 2017

The Princess

The beautiful girl
I saw under the Apple tree
The pretty one
That make me smile like a baby
The only girl I love
The pearl and gold that sparkles
You will be in my heart
Always in all ways.

Matthew Adewale

Saturday 15 August 2015

A Soldier's Daughter

When I first came into this world
You could not be there.
But mommy promised every night
That you would always care.

Each day I grow a little more
And I'm beginning to look like you
Mommy always says you love me
And daddy, I love you too.

Don't think that I am mad at you
my heart is full of fear.
but daddy I forgive you
I want to make that clear.