La Jazzmine's Chronicles

She was out later than usual. She just had a lot of work to cover so she could earn more and rest too. She never stayed out this late. As a single mum, in a new town, she made sure she was always available for her eleven year old Misheal.   It started as a light shower, then a heavy downpour. Disappointed looking at her titanium plated wristwatch which was already washing off, she checked the time at the same time recalling when she first got the watch.   It was a lovely Sunday afternoon. Elvis hurried to meet up with her from his recess. He bought her lunch, a plate of chicken and fries with a cup of cappuchino her favourite.   She was overjoyed when she saw the simple gift. Even though it was not worth much, but coming from Elvis even in the midst of the financial crisis he faced, it was everything.  " You didn't have to do this Elvis." She said half smiling, mouth agape, fingers covering her mouth hiding her expression.  "I'd do anything for you Ma ...

I hear the crowds screaming The applause is appalling I cannot fathom the cause of their excitement I'm in awe at the sight For as I appeared in the spot light I was cheered too loud My ears squealed with a plea Why do they rejoice at my presence? What is it that I have that they honour? Why don't I feel important? As I regugitate on these questions Show us what you got They screamed What do I have? I was soo beaten and drenched by the flood I suffered amnesia of identity There is still hope For a new dawn has come And the morning is done So therefore I received illumination On my world The heat dried up the soaked destiny And I'm light Light enough To realise Who I really am For greater is he that dwells in me Than that in the world They cheered at me For indeed they saw the light in me But all I could see was a drenched being With no hope of clothing Now I believe For in abundance I receive I won't be deceived Into accepting a ...

Is there a thing like election? Cos I see it as elect fun A game we play where our major tactic is a power-up called rigging A special addition to the package is the ability to deceive Campaigning on words in the sieve For we filter out the very truth that is hidden in our lies We are a bank of colour pots or should I say corrupt ones For we are white and pure before we mount the toe But then become blacker than darkness itself when we take the mantle We are sheer bluffers Like shear butter So slippery we are never caught If I dwell on this side of the tale My story may become stale But let's take our turns To turn the tables Looking at the reflection If who we condemn up there  as old rock Is not who we will become if we get to aso rock Nigeria on the rock We will stand strong.

"So how long have you been going to his house?" The doctor asked. Bella could not reply. It had been going on for a long time now since Seun got a new job and was earning more. She did not know how best to explain or relate the story to the doctor or her family members waiting outside for the result of the test. " Please speak up dear if you want me to help you." The doctor calmly said while scrolling through something on his computer.  It would have been easier to hide if not that her stomachs a bit fatter than normal, she never had a flat stomach anyway so it won't make any difference she thought.   That diarrhea and vomiting, all these symptoms point to one thing. She noticed the plague of rats in his abode and probably thought she could be suffering from Lassa fever which obviously those minor signs were not from Lassa fever. At least lassa fever or whatever they called it on the media was better than this.  Can't these signs be ignored and so...

She refused to be comforted. She wailed with as much gusto as she could muster. Throwing books, paper, biro and even the table itself all over the place. "Maam can you be calm please." The counsellor pleaded but Maria refused to be calm.  She was yet through another relationship that had turned abusive again. She felt she was cursed. In a bid to narrate her story, she lost it and began to tear apart everything in her way.  Miss Sherly Counter had seen a whole lot of worse cases but none as terrible as this. Maria was going through a lot of pain she thought. How could she be of help? This is more difficult than she could imagine.  "Maria, will you let me help?" "Leave me alone!" Maria screamed. "I should leave you alone?" Sherly resounded. "Then what are you doing in my office then? You probably should go display your madness elsewhere" Sherly angrily blurted out too quickly before realising she can't take it back.  Strang...

Empty was the word, Solemn was the sound As I lost my heart again and made a quest to find it In a lonely and deserted world I made a move On four limbs I crawled through Searching for my heart If I do not find it I will be lost to hades Tears had dried up my tear bag Torn apart I lay Carelessly on the hot sand Its all over I won't make it Can I find a replacement? Is it possible? Through the blinding sun I saw His hand With a heart for me Impossible! It must be a dream But a skilled surgeon he was Sewed all pieces together In a split second I was back on my feet Relieved Free I was hurt But now I'm not He took all the pieces Made me one anew What manner of love I broke down in joyful tears. Join the conversation on Instagram Broken, Jazzmine_rapper

Who decides to build a house and would not sit down first to count the cost to see if he will be able to finish it or not?  Well, here was Mazi Obi Ikenna, building a tower without prior proper planning. He never did finish it. He was duped and cheated by his workers for his negligence and ignorance. Suddenly Mazi Obi realised and understood what it meant to farm again, work hard and earn little.  Little Amara, Mazi Obi's last child out of 5 children seemed to suffer all the shame of her fathers mismanagement. She never did attend expensive schools like her brothers did in the city. She studied in the village.  She never knew how her classmates got to hear the story of her father. She was tagged "once rich man now poor man's daughter girl". She could not recall much of this, at least if she did she would have advised her father. She was barely 2 years old.  One day, she asked her mother. "Nne, what happened to all papa's money? I heard that he was r...

I'm living a life that ain't mine, Sitting on a couch I know not the cause Even my mind denies when I blame it for my wrong decision Racing against the time, that's not mine Even my money is not mine cos I have to spend i.e. give it out to get something so, how is it mine. The breath I have comes and goes, dunno hither whence it came and how it goes. I voiced out some notes the way I saw others do it, I was told I have a lovely voice. How do I do it, unknown, With these few points of mine, I'm able to tell that nothing is mine What then do I really have What do I boast off Where is my pride Why should I feel better than others This world ain't mine. But I can say I have a mine That Christ's life is mine

When we talk about value Value in relationships I mean friendship with people we interact with. It spurs different memories in our minds. Here's a poem for you; MY FRIEND; Yeah that's what I call you We've known quite a while But now I wonder, if it really means anything We've grown apart yet we hang to the thin thread of lies. Saying we are one Words we never use on a stranger, we freely feed it to our friend Use or abuse, I can never tell the use Special gifts of love are emptied to outsiders but our friend gets an empty basket of promises on friendship What do we value What is our muse Why not call it quits Than hold on to something that does not exist

When you have been through yet another painful heart wrenching relationship, Here's another one appearing to be real, You ask yourself if it is real You want to give it a chance Take a risk in love; Here's my advice, Let the HolySpirit lead you Enjoy this wonderful poem: Here I am Sitting with you I'm giving it a chance Though fear and anxiety reign I'm giving you a chance I have no broken bones I don't want to sing those stolen songs I am not dwelling on the past We are in the present Trying to compose a poem But I have no words to express this I have a dream I wish this could be real Here I am Sitting with you I'm not giving it up Instead, I'm giving you a chance

Time, oh time She flickers as she passes,🚶🚶🚶 She doesn't give a damn Like a dimple in a smile She spreads her harsh🙍 gaze Reminding you of life's face Which doesn't come in phases And if you don't partake in the race You will be lost or displaced Falling on the tracks in total disgrace Time, oh time She doesn't look, she doesn't care Her works unseen in the air She makes you understand That the burdens you bear are because you have not learnt To discard it with her As she burns them up in batches Leaving only the trace of ashes Time, oh time She flinches not a bit Taking each and every hit As the day changes in rotation and the world evolves in revolution of all man's obsession putting a flick to her rhythm in motion Yet she stays steady Always and ever ready To announce the future Although it's still the same movement all round, day round and year round improvement. Time, oh time You can't argue with her F...

INTRODUCTION : Whenever we sit and think, Our thoughts do stink For we reminisce on the grief Than the bliss The sad times Than the happy rhymes Why recall the negative When we can smile in nostalgia on the positive side of life 1 Once in a while It could be in a day time We sit and watch the time Brooding over a re-occuring line But then, why? Do all our thoughts end in a bad rhyme We never recount the jolly days Only the saddest and worse phase What of the day, we won our first game Instead of the break, that leaves the heart not the same 2 We remember the losses Carry our burdens like crosses Clouding and discarding memories Like a pack of cards in tosses What of the time we met our first love But no, no its the patches we solve Letting the euphoric feelings dissolve Hard-hearted pessimistic wretch, we evolve Never at the bright side The hand that was there during the waving tide Or the mouth that served as a tour guide 3 We focus on the blame...