Posted in Uncategorized

I am a queen

I am queen. I walk with my head held high and never take my crown off. I am queen even without crown I still shine. I am a queen, I treat all around me as my equals for they too are kings and queens of their own lives . Yes I am a queen but that does not mean my decisions are always right , I am still human after all. I am queen and I choose to be as humble as sheep, as fierce as a lioness and as strong as a Wolf.

I am queen beautiful and glorious .

I am a queen, long shall I reign.

Posted in Short reads

Sunday’s with grandma and grandpa

Its five o’clock on Sunday morning . It just finished raining and the aroma of granny’s cinnamon buns sneaks itself to my room… I love Sundays with gran gran and pap pap. Grandpa plays his best Sunday records . I watch how the two of them dance with each other. I say nothing because I enjoy seeing them look so youthful.

I make my way passed them and head to breakfast table and oh my goodness! The glorious feast that grandma’s set fit for the saints above. Everything about the breakfast table was heavenly from the stack of flapjacks on the right end of the table down to the plate of scrambled eggs on the left end . I pray to God to make my stomach bigger as dive into this glorious meal.

Grandpa comes in and lifts me up in the air and we dance around the kitchen .

‘Careful you two, you are going to knock down my bowl of grits.’,says granny. We giggle our way out to the strawberry garden.

After breakfast grandad and I go to uncle Bén’s for ice-cream and football before dinner with the family. Grandma warns us to be early this time , grandad gives her a reassuring smile and we head out.

We meet a few of grandad’s friends grandpa Robyn and granpa Lee, he’s Chinese . We get so carried away with the game that we almost forget dinner . Before we get home grandpa and I go to mr Dale’s sweets and treats shop. We get her a box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses.

‘I hope this works. ‘, says grandad

‘ it will it always does .’, I assure him.

We get home right on time for dinner but before we could dine we apologise to granny .

‘we are sorry .’ We say together and we tell her it will not happen again. She smiles at says,’that’s what you said last week ‘

Posted in Short reads, Uncategorized

Letter to my imaginary friend.

Dear Shadow

I recently discovered that you had never left. You’ve been with me all this while, I guess that’s why I called you Shadow because you are with me even when the light goes off, I just can’t see you.

You may be Shadow and a product of my imagination but I swear you are the most realistic friend I have. You are like the sun, as a new day begins you rise with your healing rays letting me dance in your warm aura and as the day ends I am at perfect peace.

Although our friendship is considered insane, in you I find sanity, clarity,peace and serenity .

Thank you for always brightening my day, thanks for guiding me through my dreams and most of all, thank you for always being there for me, Shadow .

lots of love from your imaginary friend,

Nandy 💙

Posted in Poetry

The edge (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I know;

That the odds are against us

That space and time aren’t on our side

And that we’re a mission impossible

Trying to rise above the tide.

I know;

That we don’t stand a chance against the universe

That we don’t write the rhythm of time

That our melody doesn’t harmonize with reality

And that fate isn’t giving us much of a sign.

I know;

That we shouldn’t have tried

That we shouldn’t have dared

I know we’re a shot in the dark

But I honestly do not care.

I still;

Have enough breath to keep trying

Enough love to give

Enough room to keep flying.

I’ll still;

Push away the thought of losing you

Embrace the idea of seeing you again someday

And still long to be with you.

I’ll still ask for pictures

When I’m craving touches.

I’ll still challenge the continuum

Until we find the edge.

By : Phanuel Ayelum


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Posted in Poetry, Short reads

Teens on screens (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I spend my days on screen

Facebook is blue, WhatsApp is green

But I know not the colour of reality

Or the feeling of humanity

I am your typical everyday teen!

By : Phanuel Ayelum.

Before a few days ago, I’d never written a limerick. I wrote this one as part of a challenge I participated in throughout last week. It’s my first limerick and I’m looking forward to hearing what you think!


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Posted in Poetry, Story

Once a runner, Always me (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

Shattering ceramics, banging doors, angry voices, violent vibrations in the walls. A childhood bruised with the memories of the violence that came with it, is mine to keep. My mind is never really able to envision what life was like past all the screaming and shouting. Perhaps, that’s all there ever was.

From as far as I can remember, my Parents almost always fought about something. My father was the abusive drunkard you may familiarize from television. The kind that came home late every night to an angry wife and a scared kid. The kind that told lies to the woman he claimed to love. The kind that was seemingly always working late and never had time for family. The kind that would batter the two other members of his household one would expect him to love the most. But I guess nobody is perfect right?

I was the little boy that always ran. Playing several rounds of hide and seek with myself. I hid from the world in hope to find myself. I sought for comfort on the strings of my violin but still all the yelling rendered my melodies obsolete. I sat in dark and empty corners trying to understand the existence with which I had been burdened with. I sat in empty spaces hoping my father wouldn’t find me. I hid in the mango trees that coolly accommodated me in their shade. I read poetry in the chimney hoping I would burst in flames like the logs do. I was the little boy that always approached his father with great caution. I always made sure to avoid him when I could. I hid from all the pain.

I always ran. I often run from these memories.
Try not to judge me, old habits die hard right? I guess, I’ve always been a fugitive from the asperities of my reality. I have always been a runner.


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Posted in Poetry, Story

Yours (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

It is yours now. Take it. Accept it as you would a ring from your betrothed. Keep it as you would a glass sphere. Treasure it as you would your life.

As a symbol of my never ending trust in your love I readily give you my heart. Encased in this tiny little box is the one thing I never give away. Until this day, it is yours. I wrapped it with fine brown wrapping paper and a little white ribbon. If you so wish to unwrap it, do so when you are ready to unbox this precious gift. And if you ever wish to unbox this gift, do so when you feel ready to handle the complexities that underly the task of keeping it safe. Lest you keep it closed and wrapped.

In the occurrence that you do open this box, be reminded that it’s content is highly fragile but still prone to free fall. Behold I give you my heart, my love and my my entire self with absolute sincerity. Behold I give of myself, in the humbleness of this little box, I am yours.


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Posted in Story

Scenery at a height (Story by Phanuel Ayelum)

I have heard the sound of the lark in it’s assention across the morning sky. I have watched the glorious sun rise long enough to see the skies change from a dazzling purple to a magnificent blue. I have walked through the enchanting trails of the beautiful forest as it glows with the golden beams of the morning sun, splitting through the branches and stems of the trees. Aesthetic pleasure to my inner dendrophile.

I have lived through the joys of more thrilling adventures than I can enumerate. I have glanced at the cerulean sky from the mountains. Surfed the ocean tides and even raced the mighty avalanches. I have tickled my physical senses in ways many only envision.Yet still deep within me is an abyss, a void space, a vast chasm.

Still I yearn to catch a glimpse of the glorious terrain that lies far ahead. Still I long for the blissful experience to be found in watching the crystal stream that flows in the Sierra. Still I crave to set eyes upon a land only spoken of in age old tales, only known in its entirety by its inhabitants and yet still rumoured by many.

Much as I wish I could be present in it’s glory I remain inhibited by the unsettled ocean before me. The raging tides that appear to consume even the aquatic creatures have poured all hopes away. All but one.

The tree, the tallest of them all. With no branches to support a climber and a slippery surface, they say only the foolish would dare challenge Physics to that height. But still I yearn.

So I bathe my hands in the sand for some traction. I put on the roughest clothing from the closet for some friction and brace myself to be deemed foolish!

I wrap my arms around the stem from hell and steadily clamber it. With each push, my instincts give me greater reason to gently slide back down. With nothing but willpower, I keep on. Turbulent winds come storming in and it’s all starting to feel like the death of me. Looking up, a branch in sight! This particular branch appears strong enough to hold me up along with the continual surge of emotions I’m likely to receive at the end of my toil. Panting and slipping, the struggle continues. Looking below, I haven’t much of a choice but to keep climbing unless of course I wish to plummet to my death. My position relative to the ground would certainly obliterate me upon impact. To the far right, the trees appear in bits above the clouds.

Alas, with my hand on the branch I use whatever is left of my arm strength to propel myself to a seat. And there it is! A bewitching landscape with mountain peaks tearing through the clouds. Sunflowers growing beside a stream I always thought was mythical. Overall, it’s certainly a kaleidoscopic beauty! Great green woods with shinning rocks that appear smooth from encounters with the waters of a rain forest. I’m most captivated by the continual flight of birds above the alps. Lost in the beauty, I’m yet to realize that I have not quite figured my way back down.

By : Phanuel Ayelum.


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