I AM THE POEM BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

Ayomide Raji

Biography: Raji Ayomide Olaitan, known as King of Rhymes, is a Nigerian poet, spoken word artist, author, animator, and certified drone pilot. He grew up in the jungle city known as ajegunle. He is the Founder/CEO of King of Rhymes Poetry Hub and TechRise Coding Hub, platforms dedicated to empowering young creatives and training youths in digital and tech skills. He serves as the Global Teenage Tribe Leader of the African Writers Tribe, where he mentors and inspires young writers across Africa. His work blends poetry, storytelling, animation, and digital creativity to deliver powerful, emotional, and visually engaging art. King of Rhymes is a voice, a movement, and a rising force in African creativity. Subscribe. Listen. Feel. Rise.

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Ayomide Raji

Saturday 27 December 2025

Nigeria, My Motherland

Nigeria, my motherland,

Where rivers dance and forests stand.

From the north’s sun to the southern sands,

Your heart beats strong across all lands.

O land of bright and blessed light,

Your children rise to claim the right.

With strength of mind and faith so true,

We pledge our love and life to you.

Our flag of green, white, green unfurled,

A beacon bright across the world.

We vow to serve, defend, and care,

For peace and justice everywhere.

Through Lagos streets and Kaduna plains,

Through sweeping hills and Niger chains,

Your voice calls out in harmony,

To sing of hope and liberty.

O sacred land, our native soil,

Through sweat and tears, through honest toil,

We lift our hands, we raise our song,

For unity forever strong.

Arise, O compatriots, awake,

Your heritage you must partake.

Let every heart beat firm and free,

For justice, peace, and liberty.

From Sokoto to the Niger Delta,

From Jos to the great Calabar,

Your children vow with all their might,

To guard your honor, truth, and right.

O God of creation, direct our aim,

Guide our leaders, guard our name.

Let Nigerians live in harmony,

And nations respect our dignity.

Through trials deep, through storms and pain,

We rise again, like sun through rain.

No foe can dim our inner light,

We march as one, our future bright.

Our land is rich with grain and gold,

With stories ancient, brave, and bold.

In every tongue, in every song,

Our people’s hearts to you belong.

We pledge our loyalty and love,

To Nigeria, our sacred home.

We swear to cherish, honor, serve,

Her dignity we will preserve.

O Motherland, we lift your name,

Through peaceful acts and deeds of fame.

Let justice reign and freedom thrive,

So every soul is proud to live.

Your children’s hands shall build anew,

With courage deep and vision true.

In every field, in every hall,

We vow to rise and never fall.

O Naija, land of vibrant hue,

With skies of gold and mornings new,

Your heartbeat echoes in our veins,

Through sunlit days and heavy rains.

We pledge to honor all your dreams,

To guard your rivers, hills, and streams.

With faith in God and love in hand,

Forever proud, your loyal band.

Through unity, we find our way,

Through labor hard and brightened day.

No tribe, no tongue, no creed divides,

For in our hearts, your soul resides.

We lift our voices loud and clear,

For peace, for truth, for all we hold dear.

O God of mercy, bless our land,

And guide each heart with gentle hand.

Nigeria, my motherland,

With forest deep and desert sand.

Through every challenge, trial, and test,

We strive to be our very best.

O nation, rise with courage strong,

Let right defeat what once was wrong.

In every city, field, and town,

Let smiles of hope replace the frown.

We pledge to serve, to guard, to grow,

To let the river of justice flow.

With hands united, hearts sincere,

We banish doubt, we cast out fear.

O land where dreams and courage blend,

On you our loyalty depends.

We honor those who came before,

And pave the path for evermore.

From maiden hills to oceans wide,

Your beauty gleams with endless pride.

O people rise, take up your stand,

And honor dear Nigeria, our land.

With every breath, with every fight,

We vow to guard your sacred right.

Our pledge resounds in voice and pen,

To serve, protect, and lift all men.

Nigeria, land of hope and grace,

We see your glory face to face.

Your children’s hearts are bound to you,

Through every trial, brave and true.

We sing your anthem, raise our hands,

United hearts, united stands.

Through joy and tears, through work and play,

Your honor guides us every day.

Forever blessed, forever free,

We serve our land in unity.

O Nigeria, my motherland,

We walk with pride, with strength at hand.

From northern plains to southern coast,

It is your name that we love most.

With voices high, we chant your praise,

Your sunlit skies and golden days.

Your people brave, your leaders wise,

We lift our hopes toward your skies.

In every heart, your story lives,

And endless love your spirit gives.

O land of green, O land of white,

Your beauty glows in morning light.

Your bounty, rivers, forests, plains,

Shall flourish, free from fear and chains.

Our pledge remains both firm and true,

To serve, defend, and honor you.

Through every storm, through every trial,

We walk with courage every mile.

O Nigeria, land divine,

In every heart, your virtues shine.

Your people’s dreams, your people’s hands,

Shall build the future of our lands.

In cities bright, in villages small,

Your voice is heard by one and all.

With culture rich and heritage deep,

Your legacy our souls shall keep.

O God of mercy, hear our plea,

Bless our land and let it be

A place where justice lights the way,

Where love and hope shall always stay.

We rise, we strive, we build, we fight,

Our hearts set firm in truth and right.

Nigeria, motherland so dear,

Forever strong, forever near.

Your mountains high, your valleys low,

Your forests deep where rivers flow,

Shall witness children brave and true,

Forever loyal, proud of you.

O land of song, O land of rhyme,

Your story echoes through all time.

Through every voice, through every tongue,

Your praises shall forever be sung.

We pledge allegiance, heart and mind,

To leave no child or soul behind.

Through toil and sweat, through faith and might,

We guard your honor, truth, and light.

O Naija, land of vibrant hue,

Your sky of green and white so true,

Shall witness generations rise,

And lift your glory to the skies.

Through desert sand, through forest deep,

We watch, we guard, we vow to keep.

Your children’s hearts, their dreams, their voice,

Shall echo loud in one strong choice.

We pledge to honor, guard, defend,

To serve our nation till the end.

In unity, our strength is found,

In every heart your love resounds.

Nigeria, my motherland,

Forever proud, forever grand.

Your beauty shines, your voice resounds,

Through every hill and all our towns.

O land of hope, of peace, of pride,

Through storm and trial, you’ve always tried.

Your people’s hands shall shape your fate,

Their loyalty shall celebrate.

With every sunrise, every dawn,

Your glory rises and is drawn.

In every heart, your spirit stays,

Through all our nights and all our days.

We pledge to serve, we pledge to care,

To keep your honor, rich and rare.

Through every storm, through joy and strife,

We dedicate our loyal life.

O Nigeria, land so true,

We lift our hearts and sing for you.

Through every tribe, through every tongue,

Your praises shall forever be sung.

From hills to plains, from lakes to seas,

Your children’s hearts shall always please.

With faith, with courage, love, and hand,

We walk forever in your land.

O God of mercy, hear our call,

Guide our nation, guard us all.

Let peace and love forever reign,

And wash away both strife and pain.

Nigeria, motherland we bless,

Through trials deep and happiness.

Your children rise in unity,

To honor you eternally.

Forever proud, forever free,

Your sons and daughters vow to be

Strong, loyal, just, and ever true,

Forever bound, O land of hue.

Nigeria, my motherland,

With rivers deep and golden sand.

Through every trial, through every fight,

We walk with you into the light.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

The Book That Knows Me

The book dey whisper my name,

Soft like evening breeze for Lagos street,

Heavy like Lagos traffic wey never move.

It no dey judge,

E no dey rush,

E dey carry me enter world wey I never see.

I dey open am,

Paper dey smell like rain for Abuja market,

Ink dey dance like children wey dey play for street,

Each word na light,

Each line na road wey dey show me where to waka.

Sometimes, I dey read and I dey see my father,

Sometimes, I dey read and I dey hear my mother,

Sometimes, e dey teach me how to dey brave

Even when life dey chop my joy like thief.

Book, my quiet friend,

You sabi my pain before I talk am,

You sabi my dreams before I dream am,

You carry my tears like river dey carry rain,

You dey remind me say knowledge no dey fear shadow,

Say imagination dey stronger than hunger.

I go waka enter your pages,

Travel continents, meet kings, meet queens, meet rebels,

Fight battles wey I no fit fight for real,

Cry tears wey I no fit cry outside.

You dey teach me that words get power,

That story fit build or destroy,

That pen fit be sword,

That idea fit light fire wey no one fit extinguish.

Book, omo, na you dey free me,

Even when government dey choke my people,

Even when city dey noisy,

Even when dreams dey hide for corner,

You dey show me say world dey wait,

Say Africa fit rise, say youth fit shine,

Say mind wey dey read no fit be thief.

So I go read,

I go write,

I go share,

I go tell story,

Because na books be bridge, na books be weapon,

Na books dey cure, dey teach, dey build, dey free.

Omo mi, I go hold you forever,

Because for your pages,

I find myself,

I find hope,

I find Africa,

And I find me.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

Africa, My Motherland

Africa, my mother, my heartbeat, my blood,

You rise with the sun, golden and proud,

Even when chains try to bind your wrists,

Even when storms threaten your shores,

You remain a song, ancient and loud.

Your soil smells of history,

Of kingdoms, warriors, queens, and kings,

Of rivers that remember the footsteps

Of ancestors whose voices still sing.

Yet, oh Africa, I see your pain.

Your children dey struggle for life,

Their eyes dey heavy with hunger,

Their hands dey empty,

But their spirits dey fight, dey resist.

Your cities dey grow like weeds in concrete,

Noise dey loud, but wisdom dey hidden,

Electricity dey scarce like miracle,

Water dey fight like it no wan flow,

Yet you dey proud,

You dey shine,

Even when your leaders dey chop your future.

I hear your drums call,

I feel your heartbeat in every step I take,

Omo mi, I no fit run from you,

Even when your nights dey dark,

Your stars dey show me hope,

Say one day your children go rise,

One day your rivers go flow free,

One day your hands go build not beg,

One day your soil go feed not bury.

Africa, my mother,

You be both lullaby and battle cry,

I go sing for you,

Even when the world dey deaf,

Even when we dey lost,

I go raise my voice,

Say your story no go die.

E dey bleed? Yes, but e dey breathe.

E dey cry? Yes, but e dey smile.

Omo mi, Africa,

Na you be my rhythm,

Na you be my blood,

Na you be my roots, my wings,

I carry you for my mouth, for my pen,

For every poem wey I write.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

Oga at the Top

Oga at the top,

How your chair dey hot?

You dey sit dey chop, dey laugh, dey play,

While we dey run for bus, run for job, run for life.

We dey pay tax wey no show face,

We dey queue for hospital wey no get drug,

We dey watch children suffer for school wey no get chair,

You dey shine for IG story,

You dey claim say everything dey under control.

Oga at the top,

Your mansion big, your car plenty,

But your people dey beg, dey cry, dey shout.

We dey sweat for your comfort,

We dey bleed for your luxury.

Oga, one day,

When rain fall, no umbrella go protect you,

When hunger knock, no money go save you,

When people rise,

No army fit stop the voice of pain.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

Democrazy

Democrazy, democrazy,

They call it democracy but na dem be crazy.

Election season be like carnival,

Promise raining, lies scattering,

Money changing hand, hand, hand like wahala pass pass.

They dey talk say we dey free,

But how we dey free if hunger dey reign?

If electricity na luxury,

If water na fight,

If school fees high pass your mama salary?

Politician sabi only smile for camera,

Shake your hand, promise heaven and earth,

But when dem enter office,

Na them dey enjoy, na we dey suffer.

Democrazy, democrazy,

We dey pray for change, but change dey sleep,

Change dey hide like NEPA light for midnight,

Democrazy, na joke wey we dey pay for ticket.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

Death Is Not the End

Death is not the end

it is the comma God places

before the next sentence.

It is the dusk that promises a dawn,

the sleep that repairs a weary soul.

The body may fold like old paper,

but the spirit continues the story

in ink we cannot read yet.

So cry, yes

but let your tears water hope.

Something blooms

even in the valley of shadows.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

The Day Grace Died

Grace died on a Sunday morning,

when church bells were rehearsing for praise.

Her smile was still warm,

but her pulse had already packed its bags.

People say death takes the best,

but I think it just takes who it finds resting.

And that day,

Grace rested

too deeply.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

Graveyard Silence

There’s a kind of silence

you only hear in graveyards

the silence that sits inside your chest,

pressing your ribs like a confession.

Names carved on stones

talk louder than living mouths.

They remind me that breath is a privilege,

and every sunrise

is God signing “approved” on our lives again.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

Black Wrapper

My mother tied a black wrapper today,

and the sky followed her.

Rain fell without thunder,

like it too understood sorrow.

We buried a man with more dreams than years,

When Death Knocked My Door by Raji Ayomide King of rhymes

When death knocked my door,

it didn’t shout,

it whispered.

A cold breeze entered before the body did.

The clock paused like it held its breath,

and even my shadow hid behind me.

I learned that day

that death is not always a thief

sometimes it is a tired friend

collecting souls like debts long overdue.

Ayomide Raji

Monday 8 December 2025

THE GOD THAT DIDN’T LET ME BREAK

Praise the Lord!

I said PRAISE… the… LORD!

If you know say from January reach December, God no allow your name enter RIP list…

If you know say na God hold your life when challenges wan hold you

Praise the Lord

Today… I did not come to give a poem,

I came to give evidence.

Evidence that God still carries people

Even when life tries to drag them low.

See… this year showed me flames,

But God showed me favour.

This year tried to press me,

But God stretched me.

This year tried to scatter me,

But God gathered me.

I stand here… not as a perfect man,

But as a preserved man.

Not as someone who had it all,

But as someone who God held when everything tried to fall.

Because when my strength said “I’m tired,”

Grace said, “Shift, make I drive.”

When my faith whispered, “I no fit,”

Mercy replied, “But I can.”

I came to say THANK YOU.

Not the casual “thank you” we shout when we win small things…

I mean the kind that comes from surviving storms people thought would drown you.

The kind that comes from God saying:

“I know your beginning, I wrote your ending…

Relax, I’m inside your story.”

I thank God for battles I never had to fight,

Doors I didn’t knock before they opened,

Roads I didn’t plan before He cleared,

And blessings I didn’t qualify for

But heaven stamped “APPROVED.”

If no be God…

Where I for dey?

Who I for be?

How I for stand?

But mercy stood where strength failed.

So today…

I lift my voice, not because everything is perfect,

But because God is faithful.

Not because I have it all,

But because the One who owns it all calls me His own.

I am here to say:

Thank You for the mountains,

Thank You for the valleys,

Thank You for the lessons,

And Thank You for the lifting.

If you see me shining,

No be camera light

Na God light.

If you see me standing,

No be legs

Na grace wey hold me tight.

This is not performance…

This is gratitude on fire.

This is testimony wrapped inside poetry.

This is me saying:

Lord, for all You’ve done,

For all You’re doing,

And for all You’re about to do…

THANK YOU.

Because truly…

I am the boy You didn’t let break.

I am the story You’re still writing.

And I am the testimony

That Your goodness never runs dry.

Happy Thanksgiving.

To God, be all the glory.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

I was born in a place

where dreams walk barefoot,

and hope wears a second-hand shirt

with the price tag still hanging from prayer.

In my street,

children learn ABC through the alphabet of survival,

A for “Avoid trouble,”

B for “Be sharp,”

C for “Carry your future like your last meal

because nothing is promised here.”

Ajegunle raised me.

Not softly.

Not gently.

But like a father who believes

the world will not pity his child.

Here, we don’t grow up,

we rise.

Rise like smoke from burnt tyres,

rise like rent in Lagos,

rise like the sun refusing to give up on a dark sky.

Every gutter taught me poetry.

Every generator humming at midnight

taught me rhythm.

Every mother selling courage in sachets

taught me strength.

I am the echo of streets that swallowed boys

and spat out men.

I am the voice of a generation

building bridges out of broken days.

I speak for the child

whose classroom is a kiosk,

whose notebooks are memories

and whose teacher is life.

If you call my scars ugly,

then you don’t understand the beauty

of a survivor’s skin.

My pain is not decoration,

it is direction.

I am from a place WHERE

light fails,

but destiny does not.

Where pockets are empty,

but hearts are full.

Where we fall seven times

and rise eight

because the ground no longer fears our weight.

So when you see me shine,

don’t call it a miracle.

Call it proof

that even the darkest streets

can raise a star.

My name is proof.

My story is testimony.

My journey is a map

drawn with the ink of struggle

and the colour of resilience.

I am the child of Ajegunle…

and I am still rising.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

I was born in a place

where dreams walk barefoot,

and hope wears a second-hand shirt

with the price tag still hanging from prayer.

In my street,

children learn ABC through the alphabet of survival,

A for “Avoid trouble,”

B for “Be sharp,”

C for “Carry your future like your last meal

because nothing is promised here.”

Ajegunle raised me.

Not softly.

Not gently.

But like a father who believes

the world will not pity his child.

Here, we don’t grow up,

we rise.

Rise like smoke from burnt tyres,

rise like rent in Lagos,

rise like the sun refusing to give up on a dark sky.

Every gutter taught me poetry.

Every generator humming at midnight

taught me rhythm.

Every mother selling courage in sachets

taught me strength.

I am the echo of streets that swallowed boys

and spat out men.

I am the voice of a generation

building bridges out of broken days.

I speak for the child

whose classroom is a kiosk,

whose notebooks are memories

and whose teacher is life.

If you call my scars ugly,

then you don’t understand the beauty

of a survivor’s skin.

My pain is not decoration,

it is direction.

I am from a place WHERE

light fails,

but destiny does not.

Where pockets are empty,

but hearts are full.

Where we fall seven times

and rise eight

because the ground no longer fears our weight.

So when you see me shine,

don’t call it a miracle.

Call it proof

that even the darkest streets

can raise a star.

My name is proof.

My story is testimony.

My journey is a map

drawn with the ink of struggle

and the colour of resilience.

I am the child of Ajegunle…

and I am still rising.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

I was born in a place

where dreams walk barefoot,

and hope wears a second-hand shirt

with the price tag still hanging from prayer.

In my street,

children learn ABC through the alphabet of survival,

A for “Avoid trouble,”

B for “Be sharp,”

C for “Carry your future like your last meal

because nothing is promised here.”

Ajegunle raised me.

Not softly.

Not gently.

But like a father who believes

the world will not pity his child.

Here, we don’t grow up,

we rise.

Rise like smoke from burnt tyres,

rise like rent in Lagos,

rise like the sun refusing to give up on a dark sky.

Every gutter taught me poetry.

Every generator humming at midnight

taught me rhythm.

Every mother selling courage in sachets

taught me strength.

I am the echo of streets that swallowed boys

and spat out men.

I am the voice of a generation

building bridges out of broken days.

I speak for the child

whose classroom is a kiosk,

whose notebooks are memories

and whose teacher is life.

If you call my scars ugly,

then you don’t understand the beauty

of a survivor’s skin.

My pain is not decoration,

it is direction.

I am from a place WHERE

light fails,

but destiny does not.

Where pockets are empty,

but hearts are full.

Where we fall seven times

and rise eight

because the ground no longer fears our weight.

So when you see me shine,

don’t call it a miracle.

Call it proof

that even the darkest streets

can raise a star.

My name is proof.

My story is testimony.

My journey is a map

drawn with the ink of struggle

and the colour of resilience.

I am the child of Ajegunle…

and I am still rising.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

What they didn't teach us in school

They taught us formulas, but not how to survive real life.

They made us recite facts, but never taught us how to feel.

This poem is for everyone who had to figure it out the hard way.

poem by king of rhymes

They taught me about gravity,

But never how to handle a fall emotionally.

They taught me kinetic energy,

But never how to keep my spirit in motion when life stands still.

I memorized photosynthesis,

But I never learned how to breathe when the world takes my light.

They gave me equations for success,

But not the formula for surviving failure at night.

I knew how to calculate velocity,

But not how to speed up healing when pain hits constantly.

I studied cells in biology,

But no one warned me about being trapped in emotional solitary.

They drew atoms on boards,

But never explained how humans split bonds too.

They spoke of the heart as a pump,

But forgot to say love can rupture boundaries too.

They taught me the periodic table,

But I still couldn’t identify the elements of betrayal.

Told me about current in physics,

But didn’t show me how to flow through pressure without breaking.

I passed exams in silence,

But failed in expressing the noise inside me.

I was A+ on paper,

But real life marked me wrong where it mattered.

They taught me photosynthesis needs sunlight,

But never how to grow through storms in the night.

Said I needed lab reports for proof,

But my scars and struggles be my strongest truth.

They never taught us empathy,

Just symmetry.

They cared more for neat answers

Than messy honesty.

School no teach me say life dey bite like mosquito for blackout.

Say e fit slap you like NEPA wey no dey give shout.

Dem no teach say money no dey obey syllabus.

Say person fit get sense book-wise

but still dull for survival like broken compass.

Dem teach me science,

But street teach me silence.

Dem teach me maths,

But real life na luck plus small sharpness.

I sabi diagram,

But I no sabi diagram wey dey show who go betray me for back.

Make I yarn you last last...

No be everything school go show you.

Some lesson na life go flog you

like say you copy for exam wey you no write.

So shine your eye!

Hold your sense like lab coat,

'Cause this life na ex

periment,

and everybody dey test you

with or without textbook.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

💞 “When the Wind Spoke Your Name” — A Poem Inspired by Love

There are moments when the heart speaks before the mouth ever opens…

moments when a feeling grows quietly, choosing its own language,

its own rhythm, its own way of being understood.

Some emotions don’t arrive with noise

they come gently, like whispers the wind carries,

or memories that return without asking permission.

This piece was born from one of those moments.

A moment where silence felt full,

where thoughts found their own music,

and where the presence of someone special

shifted the air in a way I couldn’t ignore.

And so, I wrote this…

not as a declaration,

but as a reflection

a soft place where meaning can breathe on its own.

💞 “When the Wind Spoke Your Name” — A Poem Inspired by Love

The wind carried a whisper today,

soft as dawn, warm as memory.

It sounded like a name I’ve heard a thousand times

yet never truly understood

until my heart leaned closer.

Your smile rose with the morning light,

painting gold on everything it touched.

Even the quiet trees seemed to pause,

as if they, too, wanted to remember

the way your presence shifts the world a little.

There is a calm your laughter brings

a kind of peace that doesn’t ask for permission.

It just arrives, settles, and stays,

like it has always belonged beside mine.

And somewhere between yesterday’s shadows

and tomorrow’s prayers,

I learned something simple,

something steady:

not every story begins with a sentence…

some stories begin with a person.

If the night ever forgets its stars,

I’ll lend it the glow you left in my chest.

For affection like this

does not shout, does not rush

it writes itself quietly

into the places only truth can reach.

And if destiny is real,

then perhaps it moved a little closer

the day the wind spoke your name

into my waiting heart.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

I WROTE THIS POEM FOR THE GIRLS BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

I wrote this poem…

for the girls.

The loud ones,

the quiet ones,

the ones still learning how to speak without shaking.

I wrote this poem for the girl who dreams in silence,

for the one whose laughter fills a room like sunlight,

for the one who’s been told,

“you talk too much,”

but still speaks

because her voice is thunder,

and thunder was never meant to whisper.

I wrote this poem for the girls who rise

again and again,

even when the world forgets to clap.

For the girl who reads and glows,

the one who leads and grows,

the one who knows

that “no” doesn’t mean stop,

it just means find another door.

I wrote this poem for the girls who dare.

The girls who don’t wait for permission

they sign it themselves.

For the girl child who holds tomorrow in her small but mighty hands,

for every dream wrapped in ribbons and rough edges,

for every little queen learning her own name.

Listen

you are not small.

You are the universe dressed in pink sneakers.

You are lightning in human form.

You are proof that gentle can still be powerful,

and pretty can still be brave.

So shine, girl, shine

break the box,

bend the rules,

paint your name across the sky in bold letters that say:

“I am here!”

Say it loud!

“I am here!”

Say it again till fear gets tired of listening.

Because today,

we celebrate you.

Happy International Day of the Girl Child

the day the world remembers that girls aren’t the future…

they are the now.

So go ahead, girl

read, rise, roar,

lead, laugh, love,

and still remember

no matter how high you fly,

don’t forget to slay your edges before you go!

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

I AM THE POEM BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

I stand here today,

Not just as a voice,

But as a universe vibrating in syllables.

Call me Yoruba

Because my words dance like talking drums,

Every line a bata beat,

Every pause a proverb.

Call me Igbo

Because my rhymes trade like kola nuts,

Every stanza a market square of wisdom.

Call me Hausa

Because my verses ride like horses in the North,

Strong, steady, carrying the weight of tradition.

I am not one tribe

I am the tongue where tribes meet.

I am the rhythm where cultures agree.

Even football knows my name

Real Madrid, Arsenal,

Two clubs fighting like metaphors in my chest.

I pass words like midfield magic,

I shoot bars like penalties,

I score goals in the net of your memory,

And the crowd

The crowd is applause breaking like thunder.

Science too is poetry

Listen:

My heart is a drum powered by chemistry,

Pumping metaphors through veins of biology,

My thoughts spark like neurons in physics,

My dreams orbit futures in astronomy.

Even gravity can't pull my voice down,

Even silence can't break my sound.

Call me the atom of art

Because I split verses like fission,

And release energy enough

To light a continent.

I rhyme like mathematics,

Equation of survival balancing hope and struggle.

I drop metaphors heavy as iron,

Yet light as helium when hope rises.

And still

I am history’s DJ,

Scratching records of tradition into beats of tomorrow.

I am culture’s scientist,

Mixing formulas of old and new

Until they explode like experiments of freedom.

I am football’s poet,

Dribbling past despair,

Scoring goals of joy,

And lifting trophies carved from hope.

Do not box me into subjects

I am literature and laboratory,

Tribal marks and telescopes,

Market chants and mathematics,

Arsenal jerseys and Real Madrid victories,

I am every angle of the prism,

Bending light into colors of possibility.

This is not just poetry

This is wordplay with purpose,

This is rhyme with resistance,

This is culture braided with science,

This is Africa,

This is the world,

This is me

And I say to you,

I am not just a poet.

I am the poem.

And as long as I am breathing,

This performance will never end.

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I WROTE THIS POEM FOR THE GIRLS BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

I AM THE POEM BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

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