Beauty is Simple, Beauty is You

Beauty is simple, beauty is you

    Beauty is the milky smile slaying

    Between your heavenly red lips

    Treating my ears to rhythms of wisdom

    Every time they part for audible whispers

    Of images of the future to come, or

    Even when they hold mine. 

    Beauty is you

    Beauty is your svelte fingers cradling my ears

    On return from a tickling run through my hair

    To lay on my chest in one slick movement

    That confirms me both priest and habitue

    Of your Chapel of graceful endearment

    Receiving love dispensed without measure. 

    Beauty is your sweet soul

    Treating me to elevated reason at night

    Sparring with figures: bonds, treasury bills, 

    Regulatory code and the intrigue of Ponzis

    In weighted words of awe and compassion 

    That tickle my senses enough to want more

    For you, for me and our smart kids to come. 

    The world maybe has many words for beauty

    Brandished as stressed catwalk at pageantry

    But everytime I behold your graceful walk

    I am reminded that beauty is simple

    Beauty is you holding my hands to your waist

    Urging me to sleep and live a little

    Jut before my mind hurries to its next labour.

    (c) Tobi Adebowale, 2017.

    There is Nothing Wrong With Nigerians Who Are Impatient With the Government

    President Buhari and Governor Obiano with VP Prof Yemi Osinbajo in the background

    President Buhari and Governor Obiano with VP Prof Yemi Osinbajo in the background

    The day you resume work, your employer starts assessing you. He expects you to know and do your job but occasionally comes around to make some input.

    Sometimes, your employer will point out your tardiness, and how he expects certain deadlines to be met, failing which you get the stick.

    This applies if you are the employer too.

    Continue reading

    Flash Fiction: Erased

    Your father was stubborn. And because you were strong-willed too, you refused to wear the vest of shock she gave you.

    Its sight pinched you, drove pins into your skin till they grazed your aorta. You feared they would shred the muscles of your heart but you would not give up.

    You told her. Again and again. She would smile. And walk. Away into the starry night. Hope for you was the setting sun, it had to rise in the morning. But for company at night, you drained your data on Instagram.

    Nostalgia led your bytes to her page and you drowned in the forgetfulness that characterised it. Her hearty smile and your restrained cheer in a red shirt were gone, the one with your pimpled nose too. Vaporised!

    You went to Twitter and checked her bio. It was there you realised the sun would rise at dawn but not with hope for your shredded heart.

    The word ‘Lover’ was gone, space occupied its place, your subtle reference. You were now a vile history, an unholy anecdote, cleansed, and erased.
     

    Flash Fiction: #TrekforLove

    (Heartbreak in a time of fuel crisis, as inspired by a conversation on radio).

    They met at the subsidy rally in Ojota, the day Femi Kuti came. Femi wore a wry smile as fans took pictures with him. He gave her his Curve 2 to snap him with Femi and he in turn took a picture of her with radio. He twitpic-ed a picmixed version of the pictures with: #EnoughIsEnough, #GEJmustGo. Continue reading

    Flash Fiction: Mission Aborted

    Written for Ife Olujuyigbe.

    She asked Segun to tell her the Yoruba translation of “Equity aids the vigilant.” She needed it for Dr. Coker’s test the next day but it seemed all he wanted was a kiss. She stopped him and he called her stiff, boring, uninteresting and some other “ing’s” that pricked her ears till they squeezed tears from her eyes. She did not even know she was crying till she felt the wetness on her notepad, he made it that easy with those lips of his, the same that lunged at hers just some minutes before.  Continue reading

    Flash Fiction: For Better, For Worse

    This morning, when he said those words after the presiding pastor, currents of excitement ran down your spine, circling and mildly teasing your bowel.

    The words “to have and to hold” echoed in your head, your tongue pushing against the inside of your shining teeth. All that the congregation could see was you, a beautiful bride, and him, an excited groom. No one knew of Eniola and her magic fingers, and your Xperia, the one with the “baddest filters” and Instagram, your playground where he found you, you that he declared a good thing.
     
    As he made to lift your veil, you wondered why he never took you for the swimming test, never visited early in the morning or unannounced. You felt he should know so you told him during the procession “for better, for worse can mean with or without makeup”.

    He smiled, laughed and smiled again. The world was lost on your joke but you found that look in his eyes at the reception, the uncertainty you had the first time you bought shoes online.

    – Tobi Adeb