Let’s have it this way, Flora;
I’ll write of your lips

That has the rainbow sight

From the hill I stand.

Yours is to read.

I’ll write of your eye-orbs

That can freeze Medusa,

Make dead wake,

And make man mute.

Yours is to read.

I’ll write of your lips;

So divine and heavenly

With juices of nectar

And taste to bring back the gone.

Yours is to read.

Flora, I’ll not but sing to you

A solemn sonorous silent song

That has, before now, deafened death

And made the gold glow like the sun.

Yours is to listen.

©Tóyìn Sharifdeen Awókúnlé




The Right Wrong

The wrong isn’t right even if made aright;

The right is but not wrong even if heads are hung.

The wrong on the wrong road reads road wrecks,

And the wronged right does death rite for a wright.

The right is wrong like the bard’s song!


Open the right to the right side

Where the wrong was unput aside

With wrong rightly put wrongly on the side

Truth loses its root to the wrong glide

And away it makes on a right tide


The wrong is not wrong to be wrong

even if wronged by the truth that was once hung

Like the wronged wrong made in the sung

Behold! It; not just a bell; ding dong

But the caller of right wright back from the lane wrong


Make the wronged right wrong

Like the Muhammed of the apex height.

Make the wronged right wrong

Like the said Lord of the Nazareth

Behold! Two wrongs cannot shape a right flight


Right is right without right of it being right

Who has the right of a right sight? Who?

Wrong sung will gong up decades’ dung.

When the long lung longs to see the moving pong

The wrong with right to ring wrong tongue will not long be hung.

© Toyin Sharif Awokunle (Tersemann)

Have you not? (My plead)



On my knees, have you not seen me?
I shed my prayer like blood
Of the said slayed saviour

O the taker of preyer!
Have you not seen me
In my decent tattered prayer gown?

I know you eyes me! I know or can’t you?
Let not my hot tears dry
Ere you shave me clean

I am powerless, that, you know
Like a newly born sheep
But I will keep rising after falls

Give me this day my bread!
That of daily and forever’s
My palm is still like plate; waiting

Can you not see? You see me!
I am in fish that is in a fish
In another fish down in another’s intestine

Bring me out, will you not?
Let me deliver your message
To the recipients. Let me!


Photo credit: http://www.shutterstock.com

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Sudden Summer



Today; this day of our lord
I open the book to see my face.
All i can see is against me: sword
In the very page of the phase.

E’en the day i know
Will say bye ere leaving.
The night will show
Ere paving for morning.

But like death, you gong not
Before taking off with soul.
You came like thief in da nite
And sent the daring mind AWOL.

Mind cannot run for fear
For it, chained, in Samson’s pen.
Now, I can do you compare
To summer’s day of then.

Ye! Of your wooden mind still,
I can weave a new coat.
And of your dubious pill,
I can do new a happy float.

(On the strange way,
Transciency caught up you.
On the lonely lane of relay,
Your sinking mind wallow through)

Goodnight, and wake up, will you?
When the horn no more sing.
And try…

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Jealous of the…

Jealous of the moon
Jealous of the sun

Sweat of eyes washed
Washed away unpaid

As the cupid pictures fade

Jealous of the noon
Jealous of the dawn

As rainbow loses colour
To the galaxy of stars

Beneath the white-blue cloth

Now the muse has deserted the ink
As the ink swims in unfaulty dam

Should the white be blooded
Before the cloud sweat-wet?

I submit to the innocent guilt

© Awokunle Toyin Sharif (Tersemann)



This of nights
A night with but blanket
Yes the cold rent the flights
Like women of the market

Emptiness of the room
Was felt in my presence
As i was myself’s groom
And with bed motion license

Silence rent the cloud
O Night! Where is your part?
Your companion from the cloud
That at my bedside sat

This night is silent
Like the dead grave
Asleep is the night
As Lazarus’s humble cave

O silent night!
Whole-y night
With none bright
And love off sight

I snorr alone at no length
And hold my pillow dearly
Covering bed’s large breadth
With nothing but empty clearly

Come O Angel!
Rub your feather at my chest
Let my heart marvel
Let me mark this night a best


Chalks unpaid
Shovels not unrewarded
Love lost; Lust lost
Keys lost; kiss lost
Fourth week; faught weak
No dime; no crime
Hops at all pops and ups
Legs leg in lieu tyres
Tyres tired; tiers tired
Pots not unwet
Spoon unwatered
Nation call
Obey must
Finger weeps for mistaken press
Voice raped by silence
As lizards turn landlord
Of a before now haven.

© *Tersemann2016*


Allow me speak.
Let my infinitive
Be completed with ‘to’
Let even my silence
Be heard
Let my feather-peak ink
Let my lute music
Let my silence be applauded
Let my hot cold heart beat
Free the bird from cage
In the two caged cage
All you do to amaze
Is all just awe-mazed
Let my words break words
Allow me speak