SHEGZSABLEZS

BUILDING A HOUSE To build a house, A heart is a site. Levelled to a foundation of love. Laid ready for construction. You'll need bricks A mixture of limestones and granites of smiles In a bath of laughing water It will go a thousand miles To make your walls stronger. Walls made with bricks of hope And impenetrable to pain. Make the windows gleam With rays of optimism. Against the breeze of failure. Unity is the pillar you need To hold this house. Then this house will stand forever And its rent will be peace of mind. ©®RUKENNY Esther Kalu Ndidi also known as Rukenny is budding poet, short story writer, content writer, freelance writer and journalist who explores her love for writing with the scribbles from her heart, with the aim of impacting positive change. She is a student of Mass Communication in Yaba College of Technology, Lagos.

How Did You Get Here? “Bola, wake up!” I heard a sweet voice calling in my head. It sounded persistently that I’d have preferred continuing the sleep and also hearing the voice altogether nonstop. However, the feel of a mighty palm slamming against my face swapped me off my unconsciousness and before I knew it, I was touching my left cheek with my right hand and staring angrily at the person standing in front of me. He kept shouting and rambling with anger to my face, but I cared less about what he has to say, not after that kind of hot sleep awakening slap. Since he wouldn’t stop yelling, I pondered on what had actually kept me from waking up after hearing my voice like a million times. I had a beautiful dream. It happened right inside my room. Dad was off to work. Mom had travelled for a course abroad. Sister went to the grannies for the summer holiday. And I was just home in time when I received the call. “Hello.” I received the call. “Hi, Bola. It’s me, Vanessa.

Turn Around It’s a new year, Waking up with my hands on my dreads, Dragging it backwards intensely and consistently, It was just days back I held my pen and paper, Resolution they call it, But there it was shrunk inside the trash bin, So much for old habits, Folks say it dies young, A bottle of whiskey on my table, Besides it; cube of ice in a cup, Calling for a refill, My ash tray filled with used cigarette sticks, Flames from the last stick, floating left to my bed, On my bed, a call girl whose name I know not, A naked skinny blonde, I wondered how she share different beds each night, Gazing at her shape, Drew my eyes to her bold tattoo, A crucifix laying on a bed of roses, Crafted on her waist, Brought a smile to my face, Her profession / Her Faith, Called to attention, The thought of my deeds came knocking, I reached out for my bible, All I got was Hebrew 10:26, A new path ... Purple Butterfly. 🦋 Imasuen