Imagine A Nation. (imagine-nation)

Five steps back through time when a single thought was ignited in a fifteen year old mind.It was the thought to speak. Not be heard or be seen but to be read. It was a thought to create a population who could decipher what laid between the lines. It was a nation founded in this

Back to me (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

The poems aren’t quite – As beautiful as they once were. They’re dull, sad And reminiscent of your love and care. The music sounds – Much different too. Every note and phrase Seems to inspire thoughts of you. Sunsets have – Not been the same Becoming ever so melancholic I just want to know you’ll

NOVEMBER MOON

The October sun set and made way for a new moon. She glowed with a new light and sent sweet zephyrs through the atmosphere.I marvelled at her from the edge of my window, what a magnificent sight she was. She beamed her light at me and I felt kiss of peace on my forehead .

What Once Was

He didn’t have to say anythingHe’s eyes had already all the talking. They projected his anger and disappointment. She broke this gentle giants heart without much effort. A lifetime of trust broken in split second.She held no remorse for her actions and found pleasure in his pain. In his brokeness he dragged his body to

My Body

My bodyA vessel of glory. A temple undefiled A medium through which the father utters instruction. My body an instrument played to notes of destiny’s symphony. A cry from my spirit. Powered by the name called by each breath I breathe (Ya-weh). My body, A cage for my soul. Procteting it from the snare of

A PIECE OF HEAVEN

A life beyond these four white walls. An awaking that I yearned for. The kiss of the sun on my skin. The gentle breeze making love to my hair freeing me of my contempt. I broke through the chains that held me down to my bed and ran to the hills. I laid on my

Memories Of She

This poem is dedicated to my aunt Jane who lost her battle to cervical cancer last year. Your memory will live on forever.

The Missing Half

Here’s something I wrote when I was sixteen. It’s a little rusty but I love the message and I hope you do too.

The Art of healing and grieving

They will tell you that time heals every scar and not hand you a ‘second’ shaped bandaid to patch it up. They will tell you to take it a day at time and not tell how much of it you should take. When you take too much, it will start to eat up your joy

Show me a sign

I bowed to my knees and kept my eyes up to heaven, waiting to hear you speak to me. Down in an old town church hearing nothing but my tears hit the ground. While my head leaned against the pews, I felt a surge of stillness and then I felt it slice through my soul