Thursday, 10 September 2026
September 10, 2026
samueldpoetry
analysis of 2026 wassce literature syllabus, digging, elma shaw, fleur adcock, jamb, Keypoint, Keypoints, NECO, night, Niyi Osundare, once upon a time, poetry, redemption road, still i rise, syl coker, the stone, UTME, WAEC
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Wednesday, 2 September 2026
September 02, 2026
samueldpoetry
abracadabra, allusion, Barcelona, cristiano Ronaldo, destiny, inter Miami, mercy, motivation, naijapoets, poem, poetry, samueldpoetry, yeseraye
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Standing in front of me right now
Spitting in the soil right now
Molding the soil right now
Rubbing the soil on my blindness of upliftment
And yes!
My upliftment is now crystal clear
Like a glass house in a mountain town
Success is sure
Scoring them back to back
Season upon seasons
League upon league
Banging the goals so easy pizzy
Happily shouting
Suuuuuuuu!
As if I'm Cristina Ronaldo
Mercy!
Mercy!
Mercy!
I command mercy!
I invoke mercy!
I call on mercy!
Global mercy!
Award winning mercy!
From Barcelona to inter Miami
To the world entirely I have mercy
My life is filled with mercy
And goodness
Kiss me now
Touch me now
Arouse me with fulfillment of my destiny
Hahahaha
Abracadabra
Crux sacra sit mihi lux
Non draco sit mihi dux
Vade retro satana
Abracadabra
Abracadabra
Abracadabra
I posses my possession
Yeseraye!
Copyright © Samueldpoetry
September 02, 2026
samueldpoetry
books, cartoon, death, Dolly Parton, elegy, music, naijapoets, Nigerian Poet, poem, poetry, samueldpoetry, spoken word poetry, tribute
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She left on a Monday.
August 25th.
80 years.
Not with a scream,
but with the kind of quiet
a porch light leaves behind
when the morning finally comes.
Tennessee made her from mountain and melody.
Dust on her boots, glitter in her voice.
She walked out of Sevier County
with nothing but a cardboard suitcase
and a song she wrote on the way to Nashville.
They said she was too much.
Too big. Too blonde. Too country.
So she became more.
She wrote "Jolene" at 24
and gave the whole world permission
to be scared of losing what they love.
She wrote "I Will Always Love You"
and then let it go
so someone else could sing it to the sky.
That’s the kind of woman she was.
She didn’t hold songs hostage.
She set them free.
She wore wigs like armor
and rhinestones like prayer.
Made herself a cartoon
so little girls and big men
would both have to look.
And while they were looking,
she was building libraries.
1 book a month.
For kids who didn’t have any.
Because she remembered
what it felt like to have nothing
but stories.
She didn’t preach.
She just showed up.
Disaster relief.
Vaccines.
Paychecks for workers when the music stopped.
“Coat of Many Colors” wasn’t just a song.
It was how she lived.
80 years.
And not one of them wasted on bitterness.
She laughed through the rumors.
She worked through the pain.
She loved through it all.
Today the Grand Ole Opry is quieter.
The radio will play her anyway.
Because voices like hers don’t die.
They just stop needing a body to carry them.
So tonight, if you miss her,
put on a record.
Sing off-key.
Donate a book.
Tip your waitress.
And remember:
You can be from nowhere
and still belong to everyone.
You can be soft
and still be steel.
You can be Dolly.
Rest now, Miss Parton.
The stage lights are off.
But the light you left?
That one stays on.
Au revoir.
Copyright © Samueldpoetry
Saturday, 22 August 2026
August 22, 2026
samueldpoetry
cancer, education, naijapoets com, Nigeria poet, poem, poetry, samueldpoetry, spoken word poetry
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Did you know I hate elegy?
Did you know I am not a fan of tragedy?
Did you know anytime I narrate tragedy or elegy I do it in sorrow mood?
Did you know or you did not know?
Did you know there used to a beautiful lady named Examination?
Did you know she was like a judge in a law court?
Did you know she was like a decider of fate?
Did you know or you did not know?
How come you didn't know Miss Examination is already dead?
How come you didn't know Miss Examination had been battling illnesses?
How did it all started and deteriorated only to lead to death?
When Miss Examination was wallowing in an unhygienic environment, what help did you render?
When Miss Examination was battling insomnia, what help did you render?
When Miss Examination was battling kidney failure, what help did you render?
What help exactly, tell me what help did you render?
Did you know she finally died of cancer?
Did you know the virus that sped up her cancer belong to the family of Artificial Intelligent?
Did you know too much AI was forcefully injected into her, and broke her immune system?
Did you know or you did not know?
Do you agree that all breathing nostrils are to be blamed for her death?
Including you listening to me or do you want exempt yourself?
Do you not know that I know that you know that sooner or later Miss Examination won't survive?
Did you know Miss Examination is dead, she's dead, finally dead, but yet to be buried?
Did you know that anytime you see her, what you're seeing is a ghost?
Did you know we are in great danger if we choose burial rather than her resurrection?
Did you know or you did not know?
The choice now is; do we bury Miss Examination or put in the work to resurrect her?
Copyright © Samueldpoetry
https://mynaijapoets.blogspot.com
Tuesday, 11 August 2026
August 11, 2026
samueldpoetry
deception, love, marriage, naijapoets, Pills in the pillow case, poem, poetry, pregnancy, samueldpoetry
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They will look at you and say
My friend
You're not doing it right
You're not wise with them
At all, at all
Let me advice you
They are like flies
To the wound on the leg
They'll come buzzing
To an enticement, they're easily attracted
When you lure her into your bed
She will be pregnant
And the marriage is set
Mr Adviser,
What a foolish advice is that?
In this era of "prevention-is-better-than-cure"
where unwanted pregnancy is a blatant lie
Any lady pregnant is pregnant at will
To make you the father of her child
Or the father of someone else's child in disguise
So know this and know peace
In this life
Where contraceptive is next Jesus
They chew pills more than
They chew bubblegum
In their tea, there is pill
In their rice, there is pill
In their fries, there is pill
They order meal, they order pill
Pill in the drawer
Pill in the bags
Pill in the pillow cases
Postpill
Postinor-2
Sendinor
Chloramphenicol+lemon+Mountain-Dew+bitter-leaf
In case the condom couldn't
Or menstrual miscalculated
Or mestrogen became immune
All these rat and the trap matter
Na another Wahala e go later cause
The self-induced burden of
Nursing and nurturing in poverty and pain
And adding salt to the existing economic injury.
Monday, 3 August 2026
August 03, 2026
samueldpoetry
age, life, naijapoets, online YouTube teacher, poem, poetry, pseudo gerontophile
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At 18: “I don’t do small boys”
Her friends laugh and call it growing age
She swears she won’t settle for her mate
Wants conversations, not playground men.
Wants wine, not soda, not chasing girls.
Wants something serious, not instead.
At 23: “I can’t date my age mate.”
The boys feel loud, the men feel instead.
She tests the weight of older men.
They call her wise beyond her age.
She rolls her eyes at boys her age,
And leaves the room of boys.
At 26: “I like older men.”
No more debates with boys
No more guessing who she is instead.
She wants a partner, not a mate.
She wants a story, not a girl’s
idea of love, but a grown age.
At 30: “Why are you men only after younger girls?”
“Date your mate instead”
The irony sits heavy in this age
She was the girl who skipped the boys
Now she’s the woman asking men
to look at women their age.
We trade the mirror for the mate
Ask the market what it wants instead.
Are we chasing men
Or running from boys?
Who decides the rules of age?
Who decides who gets the girls?
The years keep turning on their age
The question never leaves the men
Why not your mate?
Why always instead?
Why not the boys?
Why always younger girls?
Maybe it’s not boys or men
Maybe it’s age we blame instead
Maybe we all just want a mate.
THE SPOKEN WORD VERSION OF THE POEM
Ladies and gentlemen...
Let me tell you a story.
Not about one woman.
Not about one man.
But about a cycle...
that keeps repeating itself.
At eighteen...
She says,
"I don't do small boys."
Everyone laughs.
"You'll understand when you grow older."
She says she wants conversations,
not playground arguments.
She wants wine,
not soda.
She wants maturity,
not boys still trying to become men.
She says,
"I won't date my age mate."
Fast forward...
Twenty-three.
Now she says it louder.
"I can't date my age mate."
The boys seem noisy.
The older men...
they seem calm.
Experienced.
Established.
She is told,
"You're so mature for your age."
And somehow...
that sounds like a compliment.
So she walks past the boys...
and into the waiting arms of older men.
Then comes twenty-six.
No hesitation now.
"I like older men."
No more debates.
No more explanations.
She wants a partner.
Not just someone to call "boyfriend."
She wants a story.
She wants certainty.
She wants what she believes
only older men can give.
Then...
Thirty.
Something changes.
Now the question sounds different.
"Why are men always chasing younger girls?"
"Why don't they date women their own age?"
Pause...
Isn't that interesting?
Because yesterday...
she skipped the boys
to date older men
Today...
she wonders why those same older men
are skipping women
to date younger girls.
Life has a strange way
of handing us mirrors
when we expected windows.
We ask the market
to change its demand...
without remembering
how we shaped it ourselves.
So tell me...
Are we really chasing men?
Or are we simply running away from boys?
Who wrote these rules?
Who decided
that age equals value?
Who decided
who gets chosen...
and who gets overlooked?
Year after year...
The calendar changes.
The faces change.
But the questions remain.
Why not your age mate?
Why always someone older?
Then later...
Why always someone younger?
Maybe...
just maybe...
it was never about boys.
It was never about men.
Maybe...
it's the stories we tell ourselves
about age.
Maybe...
we've spent so much time chasing
what looks mature...
that we forgot maturity
has no birthday.
Maybe...
we've blamed age...
for what character
was supposed to answer.
And maybe...
deep down...
all of us...
are simply looking for one thing.
Not perfection.
Not status.
Not numbers.
Just...
someone to call...
our mate.
Thank you.
Thursday, 30 July 2026
July 30, 2026
samueldpoetry
humanity, life lessons, nature, poem, poetry, teacher, the ugly girl
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The Ugly Girl
They said she was ugly.
Not cruelly, of course.
No one stood in the town square
and announced her defects.
No laws were written against her.
No doors were locked.
There was simply
a little more warmth
for her sister.
A little more patience.
A little more pride.
A little more love.
And what is discrimination,
if not a thousand little mores
given to someone else?
Her sister fit perfectly
inside the frame
the world had prepared.
Skin like milk.
Features soft enough
to make strangers smile.
The kind of face
people call beautiful
before learning a single thing
about the soul behind it.
The ugly girl
learned early
that beauty is the only privilege
people pretend does not exist.
In school,
teachers taught equality.
Then handed the lead role
to the prettier child.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The ugly girl knew every line
of every play.
But she always became
a tree.
A wall.
A nameless villager
standing silently
in the background.
The front row of the prayer chorus
belonged to prettier faces.
The annual photograph
placed her somewhere near the edge,
where memories fade first.
Merit mattered.
Of course it mattered.
It simply mattered less.
Classmates were not cruel either.
Not officially.
They only laughed
when she walked past.
Only compared her
to prettier girls.
Only reminded her,
every now and then,
that love was a prize
she was unlikely to win.
Children can be remarkably honest.
And honesty,
without kindness,
is merely another form of violence.
Years passed.
She learned to laugh
before others could laugh at her.
Learned to insult herself
before others had the chance.
Learned to disappear
while standing in crowded rooms.
The strange thing about loneliness
is that eventually
it begins to feel like personality.
Then came love.
Or what looked like love.
A man noticed her.
Not her face.
Not her mind.
Her availability.
Her willingness
to settle for crumbs.
People who have starved
their entire lives
often mistake scraps
for feasts.
She loved him completely.
He loved her conditionally.
She waited for messages.
He waited for better options.
One day he left.
Not because she was ugly.
That would have been easier.
He left because he could.
Some hearts are abandoned
for reasons.
Others are abandoned
for opportunities.
After that,
she became successful.
This is usually the part
where stories become inspirational.
But life is rarely interested
in neat endings.
The promotions arrived.
The money arrived.
The respect arrived.
Yet every achievement
felt like receiving flowers
at the grave
of a person who needed them years ago.
Because success cannot travel backward.
It cannot sit beside
the little girl in the school auditorium.
It cannot place her
in the front row.
It cannot silence
the laughter.
It cannot teach her
how to see herself
through kinder eyes.
And so she grew older.
The world grew kinder too.
People called her strong.
Resilient.
Independent.
They admired the armor
without noticing
the wounds that required it.
One evening,
standing before a mirror,
she finally understood something.
The tragedy of her life
was never that she was ugly.
The tragedy was that
she spent decades
looking at herself
through borrowed eyes.
Eyes belonging to teachers,
classmates,
strangers,
lovers,
advertisements,
and impossible standards.
Eyes that had never loved her.
Beauty standards change
every century.
Sometimes every decade.
But the damage they leave behind
outlives them all.
The ugly girl was never ugly.
She was merely born
on the wrong side
of a collective hallucination.
And perhaps that is
the most frightening thing
about being human.
A mirror can only reflect a face.
Yet somehow,
we allow it
to determine a soul...
Saturday, 11 July 2026
(243) ______ THE FROZEN EGGS _____
Women with frozen eggs
Are the Warren Buffett of fertility investment
For future dividend.
Even in their forties,
In their mid-fifties,
Il n'y a pas de quoi s'inquiéter
(There's nothing to worry about)
They can give birth anytime
Young lady
A stitch in time saves nine
Consultation and testing
The steps towards your secured fertility.
Ovarian stimulation, egg retrieval, and vitrification
Twenty mature eggs kept
Would make them a mom whenever needed
Their destiny's in their hands
Ignorance is not an excuse
To be more enlightened
Go read the book:
"When Time Runs Out" (Adeola Olunloyo).
Samuel C Enunwa aka samueldpoetry.
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Saturday, 28 February 2026
February 28, 2026
samueldpoetry
African Analysis, naijapoets analysis, poetry, WAEC, wole Soyinka, YouTube
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1. Analyzed I think It Rains By Wole Soyinka I Think It Rains by Wole Soyinka could be a kind|literary composition|literary work} of difference; it differs in each form each structure, diction and message. The literary work appearance into the observe of smoking tho' one cannot predict the author's stand (whether of likeness or dislike). The literary work is constructed on figure since the puffing, smoking is equate to a downfall and each alternative imageries ar in support of the descending, the condition before the rain, the descriptive image of the smoke being a Rain-Reeds and circling spirit, etc. 2. Analyzed No Coffin No Grave By Jared Angira This literary work is regarding the shameful murder of a tyrant. He was injured and enclose front of an evening club; the writer sardonically compared his murder shut to a shot representing a final reference to a human. rather than the literary work being a pure verse form, the writer created a critical verse form that was beautified with irony and locution to indicate his dislike towards the wicked and self-loving life crystal rectifier by the tyrant leader; it had been therefore unfortunate for the dead politician World Health Organization wanted to own revered burial ceremony however complete with a decreased massacre. 3. Analyzed Young Africa's Plea By Dennis Osadebay As the title of the literary work suggests, the literary work speaker is seen mendicancy for his freedom of selection and his freedom of association. The is culturally inclined and somewhat relates to the difficulty of civilization and distinction in color. 4. Analyzed Agbor Dancer By John Pepper Clark The literary work holds an outline of Agbor woman doing a standard dance, occupancy response to rhythm of the drums in an exceedingly} very dazzling and magestic approach. Agbor Dancer could be a literary work written in four stanzas with five lines every. the primary textual matter delineated the dance woman and also the drum that made the music she dances to, stressing the approach her whole person was absorbed within the dance whereas the second and third textual matter checked out the body movement of the dancer whereas dance and so travel to the unity between the 2 (dancer, percussionist and song). 5. The Blood Of A stranger By Dele Charley [3 Themes] “The Blood of a Stranger” by Dele Charley is bound a tragedy within the sense that every one the evildoers in Mandoland reaped the reward of their evil accordingly; wherever Kindo killed Parker as the way of avenging Soko’s death; the identical Kindo additionally decapitated Whithead (the corrupt and greedy White World Health Organization came to Mando with the aim of exploiting their diamond). 3 Among the Themes within the Blood of a stranger are: 1. Corruption and also the aftermath of corruption: just about all the sure leaders in Mandoland ar corrupt. Their corrupt spirits ar lighted by greed and also the must amass the wealth even at the expense of the villagers. Whitehead, whom the villagers_ initially, chastened his arrival_ became a authorised figure in Mandoland, when incorrectly informing the individuals he came to form a tobacco farm in Mandoland. 6. Analyzed Night Rain By John Pepper Clark The literary work talks regarding rain falling within the night and also the effects of it on alittle boy, the opposite brothers, the mother and also the little improverished abode. The boy wakes up not knowing the time as "no cock crow" The rain starts falling onerous. He takes into thought the results of this on his brothers World Health Organization ar suggested to sleep on; on his mother World Health Organization ceaselessly shifts "her bins 7. Analyzed Piano And Drums By Gabriel Okara Judging from the definition of poem ("vers libre" in French language), any literary work with no explicit rhythm or metre and while not a rhyme theme are often spoken as a poem. it's vivid however archangel Okara with this literary work imitated poet in making not possible effects so much on the far side the boundaries that even blank verses will cross. 8. Vanity By Birago Diop [3 Themes] In the literary work vanity by Birago Diop, there are 3 major poetic devices that gave the literary work her grandeur. These are (1) representational process (2) Repetition (3) statement. 9. Appropriateness of the title Vanity By Birago Diop The literary work Vanity was written by Birago Diop, the author of a poetry book titled: Lures And Glimmers (1960). Birago Diop wasn't simply a writer, he was a medico and was once an envoy of African nation to African country. He was born 11/11/1906 however died 10/11/1989. There was no direct show of vanity within the literary work as a result of the twenty 9 lines of the literary work were written while not one word referred to as vanity, however the literary work speaker painted the image of vanity from begin to end. 10. Analyzed Listen Comrades by David Diop Since the birth of civilization, difference and also the struggle for freedom have lasted on the far side the expectations of humans. such a lot of literature have confined the variable happenings of people's fight for freedom that in most cases are never without lose of lives and belongings. 11. End of War by Okinba Launko The literary work is analogous to the literary work title The board by Gbanabom Hallowell. within the literary work "End of War" by Okinba Launko, line four and five of the literary work are prove that men are actually the casualties; the lines declared "the silence of the battlefield/ heralds the widow's anguish". the boys that visited war die departure their wives to suffer the pain and aftermath of war that happens to be a long-lasting widowhood. [click here to pay attention to the audio] 12. Watch Video Analysis of faceless by Amma Darko 13. Theme of Mistaken Identity in the Rivals 14. Analysis of Fulani Creation Story 15. Analysis Of Abiku By Wole Soyinka |
Monday, 2 February 2026
Introduction:-
Stone Child and Other Poems by Syl Cheney-Coker is an anthology that embodies the poem "The Breast of the Sea by Syl Cheney-Coker" and many other poems of his.
As already noted, "The Breast of the Sea" is one of the forty (40) poems in the anthology titled Stone Child and Other Poems published by the poet in the year 2008 with ISBN 9789780810672.
Synopsis:-
Stone Child is about the nameless gemstone child that became such a feature in the recent history of the poet’s country. Written with compassion and moral deliberation, the poems in the first section of this volume resound with the pain and love that the poet felt as he reflected on the tumultuous politics and tragic destiny of his beautiful land. The rest of the volume is in homage to people and places around the world that have also touched the poet deeply. It is Cheney-Coker at his most humane, while he was dealing with a personal tragedy during his most recent period in exile.
The list of poems in the book are: Homage to Stone Child, New Year in Freetown, 1999, Our Lady of Diamonds, When the Dead Talk, The Meaning of Our Rivers 1, The Meaning of Our Rivers 2, This Evening, Next Morning, The Breast of the Sea, Letters from Home, The Golden Chalice, Out of the Abyss, Old Rites, New Mirrors, Las Vegas Gothic, Short Tail, On Viewing Chris Ofili’s “Holy Virgin Mary”, All His White Hairs, Olodumare’s Clay, The Birds At the Harbourfront, The Orators, Harmonies, Death in New York, Sept 11, 1973 & 2001, Oceanic Cantabile, Turkish Diptych, Iranian Diptych, The Gods of the G-8 Summit, Lake Fire, To My Wife Dying of Cancer 1, To My Wife Dying of Cancer 2, Homecoming, New Frontier, Life Sketches, A Simple Lesson, Transition, Portraits of a family, The Madman Near the British High Commission in Freetown, Profit and Loss, The Nobel Tree Woman & Elegy For the Ebola Saint, Bitter Leaves, Widow(er)hood.
The Author:-
Syl Cheney-Coker, Sierra Leonean poet and novelist. Author of three previous volumes: Concerto for an Exile; The Graveyard Also Has Teeth; and The Blood in the Desert’s Eyes. In 1991, he was awarded the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize (Africa’s Best Book Region), for his novel The Last Harmattan of Alusine Dumbar. He has also won Commonwealth Short Story Prize. His poetry has been translated into Spanish, Dutch, Russian, French, Portuguese and Chinese.
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Thursday, 8 January 2026
Introduction
Elizabeth L. A. Kamara
New Tongue
Tone and Mood
Diction
Third Person Point of View
Stanza
Lines
Flow
Change
Clash of Culture
Disunity and Disrespect
Allusion
Symbolism
Alliteration
Simile
Imagery
Metaphor
Closing the Curtain
CONTINUE READING MORE TOPICS SHOWN BELOW >>>
Sunday, 4 January 2026
January 04, 2026
samueldpoetry
culture, curtain, Keypoint, Keypoints, love poem, My Poem, ode, passion, poet, poetry, samueldpoetry
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Ode to a Poets curtain
Eh,what a screen with a heavenly picture !
Picturing an artistic fixture.
Turning my bedroom to a museum of culture
That handsomely showcases the native of passion
With the exhibition of heavenly creatures;
Hi,you scattered lightening of illumination!
I embarrassingly cherish your illustration;
What a great explanation!
For illuminating heaven's innovation;
Ho,you banana shaped fluorescence of harmony!
Harmonizing damsels as the heavenly legacy
I marvel at such melody
Because he speak from memory ;
Hello,you specially carved image of passion!
Sitting on the harmonious banana fluorescence
With a crownlike beret of assertion ,
Wearing an angelic gown of emergence
Ribbonly embellished for fashion ;
Miss passion,your comely face of continence
That never conceals emotion
By reproducing an alluring smile,
Romanticizing my soul with affection
From this curtain-screen.
Thursday, 1 January 2026
I STILL SEE YOUR EYES
I still see your eyes
Through teddies, through birdies, through butterflies
I still see your eyes
Through thirteen ladies that said to me hi!
I still your eyes
Through their eyes that wish me wooed them and then be their guy
I still see your eyes
Through the streamings of many streams so nigh
I still see your eyes
Like night and the break of a daylight
I still see your eyes
Through the stars of the sky of your eyes
I still see your eyes
Through the seed of love you sowed in me's why
I still see your eyes
Through our peace and our tears we cry,
I still see your eyes
Through the towns we've passed by
I still see your eyes
I still see your eyes every night I lie
And your seed of love growing in me's why
I still see your eyes.
Copyright © Samuel C. Enunwa Oct. 14, 2011.
Thursday, 25 December 2025
December 25, 2025
samueldpoetry
cervical cancer, cervical cancer prevention, death, health, Keypoint, Keypoints, medical checkup, message, My Poem, naijapoets, naijapoets analysis, pap test, poetry, samueldpoetry, wealth, women
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EARLY CERVICAL CANCER PREVENTION
Tuesday, 23 December 2025
December 23, 2025
samueldpoetry
economics, football, Keypoint, Keypoints, mathematics, metaphysics, Mourinho, My Poems, naijapoets, naijapoets com, poetry, premier league, Raphael Beniitez, samueldpoetry, success, Wenger
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Raphael Beniitez is a man of magic
Human within his practices
Sometimes strong and sometimes weak
Raphael Beniitez is a coach of coaches
Lives within the bricks
Of humility
Maturity
And vast experiences
And placards of hate
Don't make him.freak
And haters don't make him sick
Glories have been his
As well as match loses
Raphael Beniitez authenticity
Is seen in who he is
Football to Wenger is economics
Management of little resources
Football to Mourinho is mathematics
Four plus two is equal to six
Football to Beniitez is metaphysics
Theories and myths are mixed
With tactical analysis
As the gimmicks for making magic
No matter what you think
I'm here to stick to the fact that
Other coaching managers
Do not better Raphael Beniitez.
Copyright © Samuel Enunwa aka samueldpoetry (01-03-2013)
Friday, 19 December 2025
December 19, 2025
samueldpoetry
bungalow, crime, detective, elegy, ipod-like radio, Keypoint, Keypoints, Mario music, murder, naijapoets analysis, narrative, poetry, polo, Raymond Hoe, Samuel Enunwa, samueldpoetry
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THE REMAINS OF RAYMOND HOE
Fellow friends and fellow foes
Wait, let me tell this tale of woe
The way I know they wait below
Below my belly where they grow
For woe is me! My friends and foes
When I heard of Raymond Hoe
I screamed, I shouted no!
But why? And why Raymond Hoe?
But why this very man I know?
I've known Mr. Raymond Hoe
For ten and a year below
When we met at fashion show
He was nice, you should know
He was kind, and gently goes
He rhymingly uses o
Whenever he says hello
When I say to him also
“Good evening Mr. Hoe”
He says, “Hello, Mr. Sam o
How dey go dey go dey go?
How your wife and family o?
I hope they are all fine o.”
But why? And why Raymond Hoe?
But why this very man I know?
He was a one man Mopo
And used to wear polo
And loved to wear chino
And used to live solo
A divorcé, you should know
With no child no, no, no
With no kin no, no, no
With no pal no, no, no
But I thought with no foe
When I heard in my bungalow
When I heard this tale of woe
When I heard of Raymond Hoe
I screamed, I shouted no!
But why? And why Raymond Hoe?
But why this very man I know?
The very young Raymond Hoe
Who only had seven years to
Clock forty, you should know
You should know Mr. Hoe
He was an average fellow
He wasn't a rich fellow
He wasn't a poor fellow
He lived a room not a bungalow
To hide his head from mosquitoes
And the chills that always blow
Through the night to and fro
But why? And why Raymond Hoe?
But why this very man I know?
Two o'clock remained ten to
Thursday, 18 December 2025
December 18, 2025
samueldpoetry
City Shower, Jonathan Swift, Keypoint, Keypoints, london, naijapoets analysis, naijapoets.com, Non African Analysis, poetry, samuelenunwa
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Introduction:
The Analysis:
What follows is the effect of the rain on the people around_ running here and there to hide from the rain:
"To Shops in Crouds the daggled Females fly (which is metaphor)
Pretending to cheapen Goods, but nothing buy
The Templer spruce, while ev'ry Spout's a-broach (the templer: law student from Temple, London)
Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a Coach. (alliteration found in the line)
The tuck'd-up Semptstress walks with hasty Strides
While Streams run down her oil'd Umbrella's Sides
Here various Kinds by various Fortunes led (various is repeated, Kind = people, Fortunes = ambitions)
Commence Acquaintance underneath a Shed."
From the above quote, the rain changed the course of humans intentions which led to most of them acting wierd and fake; many who wouldn't have been friendly force started friendly conversations with other fellows camped by the sudden rain under a tiny roof, ladies run into shops are seen making enquiries about products they wouldn't buy, the students kept calling the cabs but not with the intention of leaving unless the rain stops, the dressmaker was working hasty under her umbrella as if she would be late for a certain appointment (according to the third stanza of the poem). The fourth stanza is an end-rhyming lines of eleven in total.
- Audio Analysis of A Description of A City Shower
- Description of a City Shower: Summary & Analysis - Video & Lesson Transcript | Study.com
- PDF format of "A Description of A City Shower by Jonathan Swift
- To view the whole poem: A Description of A City Shower by Jonathan Swift
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Enunwa Chukwudinma S aks samueldpoetry
(the Leo with wings flying)
Monday, 8 December 2025
December 08, 2025
samueldpoetry
bell, change, cricket, Keypoint, Keypoints, life, night, pain, poem, poetry, ritual, samueldpoetry
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Is This The Life You Wish For?
"Good things will come to you in ways you could never anticipate or expect. Yet if you're constantly placing judgment, conditions and restrictions on your life, you'll miss out on most of those good things."_ Ralph Marston.
Imagine if the bell refuses to suffer the pain
To be caused by its dangling scrotum
How will it ring for ritual to start?
Is this the life you wish for or not?
Reschedule your life
The life of muteness you must quit
And start making your desire show
To grow out of your hole
And quit lay low
For success is yours if you do so
The crickets are singing always by day
Do you notice?
The crickets knew they were not heard by day
They rescheduled it
So to be sang aloud and heard at night
And the tick tock of the wall clock
Is always a sweet song at night
So if still
You're still not living the life you wish for
You need still
To start reschedule your life adventure.
Samuel C. Enunwa aka samueldpoetry
Monday, 24 November 2025
November 24, 2025
samueldpoetry
dating, gone are the days, Greece, Keypoint, Keypoints, loving, marriage, parenthood, poem, poetry, single
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Gone are the days when you were kids.
Tuesday, 4 November 2025
I know you have ears
listen attentively
I'm revealing
the secret known to
two eyes
two legs
two ears
one mouth
one mind
one head
one me and myself
and at the end
you'll applaud this verse
with thy mind
what is it? Cunning is
what I brought to thy hearing
Many men say: tortoise is most cunning
What about hare?
Let me weave you this yarn,
in the days of yore
animal land was famine
hunger and thinning
all animals were bony
tortoise in company of birds
went to feast in heaven
only hare was fresh
fresher than the skin of kings
eating and wining daily
has been selling fellow animals
in exchange for food
"My food reserve is down.
Only few food left,
what am I to do?"
The hare journeyed
40 days and 40 nights
visited goddess of vegetables.
"O! Goddess!
Here I come to strike you a deal.
Give me bag of food and
I shall give you a fellow animal
with whom melody in his roar
will make you swerve and swing all day"
While the goddess waited by the border land
Mr. Hare visited Mr. Leopard
and said:
"Hello! My good friend.
You are cannibal
I am not but
at the border of the land
I found seven motherless puppies
crying with no care
kindly make this a secret"
The leopard followed the hare
whistling as they went
while he whistled through the path
other leopard followed quietly
through the bush
suddenly at the target spot
ropes of vegetables entwined
Mr. Leopard to make him a slave
At the rescue of other Leopards
there was a battle of rage
Mr. Hare took to race
32 leopards behind
he was angrily chased
ran under a rock and
digged into the soil
till this moment
there he lives.
Samuel C. Enunwa aka samueldpoetry







