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Posted in Poetry, Short reads, Uncategorized

SHE IS THE WORLD

Of course it’s a man’s world, women are the world.


Out of her the world’s nations were birthed and from her our master’s kin was raised.
She is queen who isn’t afraid to tilt her head and pick up the world’s broken pieces. She is the wind, whisking away yesterday’s chaos from the world. She is healing from today’s pain and joy for your sorrow.
She is life that has been given life. She is the breath of God living in out of man’s flesh and not the soil, yet she is so intricately constructed to withstand all that stands to break her. Her intelligence is weapon for war and she isn’t afraid to use it. However she can choose to use it as a tool for peace.


The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. Genesis 2:15.

Featured
Posted in Poetry

Fly by my window

Butterfly fly by my window.
Flap your beautiful wings painted with the colours of the sun.
Remind me again of how creative the mater of creation is.
How he is able to intricately place every detail into this marvellous tapestry.
Remind me again of just how much he desires beauty.
How he patiently waits for you to fully mature in that cacoon of yours as he makes sure you are not moved or shaken by anything nature sends against you.
As you fly by my window, I see his greatness and I feel his love.
Just like you, he knows every bit of me and loves me as I am.
Fly over me, oh so gently and gracefully. Show me that the touch of love is never aggressive and is always ready to embrace and bring healing to the most wretched of souls.


I love new beginnings, they serve as a reminder that there’s no better time than the present. Change is gradual process and every new day gives room for growth. The butterfly shows us just why good things take time, magnificence can not just happen in a day.


Like this poem if you liked it and feel free to share and let me know what you think in the comments.

HAPPY NEW MONTH FROM THE WRITTEN STUDIOS ❀️

Posted in Poetry

Of a writers fear(A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

Has my best poem

Already been written?

If I made another recital

Would you be there to listen?

Have I set a bar so high

That I may never reach it?

Will my poems ever touch you

In the way they once did?

Have I already piqued

The limits of my creativity?

Is there anything more inside

Awaiting delivery?

Could creativity really be

Such a finite resource-

That once used and depleted

Can never be restored?

Is there any hope

For the writer inside?

Or am I calling on a spirit

That has long since died?

By : Phanuel Ayelum.


Writing about writing πŸ˜…

Or the sheer lack of itπŸ’­

Do any of you ever feel this kind of fear?

Like this poem if you liked it, share and feel free to leave a comment, really, I appreciate it all!
πŸ’–

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Pre-zen-t (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I wonder what it’s like

To live in the present

To be fully absorbed by

A single moment

I often imagine it

As a feeling of pure bliss

Absolute engagement

Devoid of anxiety and stress

To let go of the past

To stress even less about the future

To master both in the present

As intended by nature

I wonder what it’s like

To be of the present

To truly master time

To that extent…

By : Phanuel Ayelum.


Like this poem if you liked it, share and feel free to leave a comment, really, I appreciate it all!πŸ’–

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Warriors (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I know you’re fighting battles;

Deep within yourself,

I understand what it means-

To be at war with oneself.

I know you can’t always talk about it;

I understand the risks of vulnerability.

I know there’s much you’ve kept inside,

Buried deep in secrecy.

I know your joy is an impression;

You smile only to look okay,

I know that you hurt in silence,

When you really have so much to say.

I know that you break down;

I know that you cry,

I know that you do it alone,

So that no one can ask why.

I know the pain can be heavy;

Even greater than words,

And sometimes you fear confiding in people-

Afraid they can make it worse.

I respect you

And all of your strength,

But if you’re ever met with the need for a shoulder

I’ll be in arms length…

By : Phanuel Ayelum

Posted in Poetry

A written world (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

Aren’t we all just words

In a poem about a world

In which poetry is written

I know that may sound absurd

But

Aren’t we all just books

Exchanging glances and looks

When our stories seem similar

And we then decide to share plots enroute

Aren’t we all just written art

With similar beating hearts

Coming together as best sellers

Before we’re drawn apart

By societal demarcation

That provides the identification

That often hinders our coexistence

and integration…

But when the words in literature

No longer wish to live together

That creates the tragedy

Of a very wretched genre.

And sometimes we struggle to fit in

Into this world that we are split in

And for a moment we forget

That we’re all but literature –

The heavens had written…

By : Phanuel Ayelum

Posted in Poetry

Who we are now (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

It keeps getting harder

To tell the two apart

To see where one ends

and where another starts

You can see much joy in the pictures

Hiding grief behind them

While we smile in front of cameras

We often fall apart behind them.

We have more followers

Than we have friends

But this isn’t an anomaly

On the contrary, it’s a trend.

But who am I to judge

When I suffer from it too.

When I equally care much

For likes and views.

But my true self

Never seems to meet those needs

I have to smile and filter

To look my best on people’s feeds.

My truth is ugly

But it’s all that’s real

And nobody wants that

They prefer the highlight reels

So in a world that shuns authenticity

Yet prides a lack of it

It shouldn’t surprise us to know

That we value the counterfeit.

This is who we are now.

By : Phanuel Ayelum

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Monday (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

Monday!

Monday is a morning to a week

It’s waking up to possibility

Monday is a genesis

To all that can be.

Monday is the tone

The tone you pitch;

Monday is taking your wounds,

And giving them a little stitch.

Monday is finding your strength;

And holding it with great grip.

Monday is taking every opportunity,

Monday is letting nothing slip.

Monday is another chance;

Monday is a reset,

Monday is the change you want,

Monday is a mindset.

Monday is resilience

Monday is grit

Monday is being strong

Monday is being fit.

Monday is taking every hit;

And getting up stronger.

Monday is the energy needed

To hit back two times harder.

Monday is self identification;

And an establishment of self worth

Monday is finding your purpose

For being on this earth.

Monday is love

Monday is forgiveness

Monday is spreading joy,

And sharing happiness.

Monday is yours

Monday is mine

Use it wisely

It’s a gem of time!

By : Phanuel Ayelum.

Monday is coming back to a platform you’ve forsaken for so long 😭 I have had quite the run up with writers block. I literally couldn’t pen anything down, and it’s been the worst experience. It’s almost as if the element in me that was built for creativity had been tampered with and I had no idea if it was ever going to come back to normal. Good news is, I think it has! So let’s brace ourselves for some awesome (and preferably consistent) written content!!!

For starters, Like this poem if you liked it, share and feel free to leave a comment, really, I appreciate it all!
πŸ’–

Posted in Long reads, Story

DON’T SHOOT!!

I had been told that the path I have chosen was not for the fainthearted. They said I would only ever be perceived as an obstacle of justice but woe was me, whose tenacity deceived me that I was going to be the voiceless for the voiceless, an instrument of change a vital solution to the world’s injustice. I woke up everyday with the thought that I might not be back home the same person and each day I was right. Every moment in the field built up new memories that changed my entire perspective of life. I remember witnessing one of my colleagues being persecuted by the people the very people she fought to speak for. The voiceless had suddenly rose against voice, they cowardly spoke not because they were ungrateful for her help but because they were afraid of law and what it would do to them. Still she stood her ground and cried out for the justice of the people, she swore that she will not back down until their needs were heard, she let out her last breath pleading for justice to be served. I can still remember the fear and anger that sailed through my mind. How could the very people she stood for, throw under the bus like that? The dreading feeling grew inside me and the words of my past played like a broken record repeatedly announcing it told me so. The anger in me grew stronger and I wanted to prove those voices wrong, I was going to fight and stand for change even if it costed my life. And when the day arrived, I found myself face-to-face with the law pointing a gun to my head. He shouted not to shoot and that I should lower my weapon. I pleaded not to because my ‘weapon’, wasn’t threatening anyone. My ‘weapon’, wasn’t taking the lives of innocent children.My ‘weapon’ wasn’t stealing from the vulnerable. So I raised my weapon because I was tired of being puppet of the law and gave him a condition that I will only lower it when he lowers his.He said he will shoot and I said “so will I”.


In recognition of world press freedom day I thought I could share of a story looking at the life of a field working journalist. They are among the heroes that have fought for democracy and of many nations. They, along with many members of the press are an important part of history.


Like this story if you liked it and feel free to share. I would love to know what your thought in the comments section. You can also send me an email on nandi.tessy@gmail.com.

Happy Monday πŸ“

Posted in Uncategorized

The prayer

A prayer for you…

I close my eyes and say a prayer for my little sister that had just been sexually assualted in her own community. Please heal her broken spirit and restore her health. Wipe the tears off her mother’s eyes and comfort her from this trauma.

Teach us Lord to love just you love. Let our spirits be overcome with an unquenchable thirst to fight for each other against the evils of this world in your name. In this world filled with greed, depression, jealousy and anger, we ask that our hearts be enriched with the passion to speak for the voiceless and afraid. Send an angel to our brothers going through battles they are unable to speak of. Comfort them and drive away every cloud carrying suicidal thoughts. Finally, let your light shine on the paths of the young and old people of every race in every nation across the world. May the shattered heart see you in the darkest vallies and hear your voice in the loudest storm saying “peace be still”. In the name Jesus we have prayed, AmenπŸ™