LET THEM TALK

<a href="http://Meddle“>

Judge not!
The good book says
Yet we are so quick to crucify
Why do we bury our noses in distances?
Looking for a “good” day to hunt
Stretching the fibers of life
Hurting those who wallow in pain
Building little niches of gossip
Forming circles of unrepentant souls

If we decided to go against the normal
Do what we feel is the best for us
And in no way does it hurt anyone
How does it concern their batting lips?
But no, it seems our business is theirs
Or is it that our worlds are sisters?
More that often, our lives may look spongy
But it’s a lot better than the rags they call life
So to help their chaos, hurting others is their gain

Refuse to be affected by their talks
Or meddle with their fallacious stings
Be affected by your happiness
That way, we careless and be more of us

Ruthspoetry 2017

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SMELL THE HOOD

<a href="http://Trace“>

Dump all the cold stories
Draw a line between fair and good
The London lady calls it “antique”
Just because she feels ladies are suspects

Three crowns for the hood
Reading the surest lines
Tracing the bonds like branches
Connecting ancestors to new trends

Somebody said the hood smells like dawn
With all the rough and ghost corners
Framing the justice that houses dignity
The hood remains a home for likeminds…

©ruthspoetry 2017

ROOTING FOR SIMPLICITY

<a href="http://Roots” target=”_blank”>

To make a simple parquet
wishing for love and serenity
absolute power of speech
and an ivory of casted fury

savoring the tongues to slay
heaven knows the history
the thousandth truth is born
as the victimized hero fell

trampling on the odds of none
falling to the ghosted ambush
the only survivor remained his soul
with the score of good or evil

the thief is surrounded by his like
and the spirits that do not wish him well
chose the end while the present thrives
the last score never gives a warning…

©ruthspoetry 2017

THE RELATIONSHIP STRUGGLE

Man: Why do you smile like that?
You should have a small smile
You know you do not have a nice dentition.

Lady: Okay sir…

Man: Why do you walk that way?
Learn to catwalk
I mean, even those with bad legs can right?

Lady: Okay love…

Man: Why didn’t you apply make up?
Your spots are too much
I like my women always on point

Lady: Okay baby…

Man: Why is your nose so big?
Don’t worry, when next we travel
We will definitely stop at Dr 90210

Lady: That will be nice…

Lady: He doesn’t love me, he thinks I’m ugly. Maybe I’m not his type, maybe I should leave this relationship….

Man: I love my lady, and I’m sure she understands how I feel, not like I’m trying to make her feel less of herself, I just want the best for her….

©ruthspoetry 2017

EXPOSE YOUR CROWN

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You were born
not with gold or silver
rather, a humble beginners luck
to be the star they never saw
with an ambition to win
to rise to the throne made for you
and rule the world you thrive to own
in shades of faith and belive
the impossible is the possible
inspire yourself to grow
loose the edges that burden you
face the mountains that belittle you
your birth wasn’t your glory
your death is; your score to life
the day you lived, is the day you won
expose yourself to the world outside
harness the energy you groom
your crown is only a footstep away…

ruthspoetry 2017

<a href="http://Exposure“>

WITHOUT HELP…

***
It takes a lot of courage to say goodbye you know,
ending a 24-years marriage abruptly, what’s more difficult?
especially when one partner is still in love! but has to let go
for me, it was a bondage I never saw until now
always ready to take the blame to let you win
waxing my soul cold so yours can blossom
taking the slaps and beats like i learnt some karate, psst!
I never imagined a world like this with you
I prayed for help to come, it never did
but what happened to the sweetness of your soul?
you used to call me darling like the word never sounded so good
always out for my happiness, my smiles, this is sad!
I know you still have some good left in you
was it because I cut my hair? Or because I started going to church?
oh!, because I couldn’t give us a baby boy? What was my wrong?
I’ve been sad ever since that night, the first fight
I knew a demon possessed you, the way you hit me,
the words you said, but it was only the beginning.

I do not wish you well, how could I, but I pray you find Christ soon
or hell will be throwing the hottest party for you.
Your mum called, she said she tried to talk to you
but you were nothing close to being remorseful
it is well with you, by the time you get this letter
I’d be gone, forever! You’re my biggest mistake.
Goodbye my husband, I see the angels waiting for me
the stab only brought me faster to happiness.
Remember always, Jesus loves you and you need his help…

SAY NO TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE…

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

<a href="http://Help“>

THE LOST PRICE

<a href="http://Price“>
Woman

She calls on faith
believing in words he muttered
accepting a crown in despair
locking away her freedom forever.
The lies she believed was black
staining the good soul
cursing her desires to grey
chattering walls with agony.
The peace she seeks is biased
her prayers eluded her purpose
revealing burnt darts of chaos
she loved for no glory
yet the price of love slapped her
aging her soul and body
keeping her as the idol
of a lost love tale

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

TILTED SORROW

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I see it is a beautiful Saturday morning, the sky looks brighter today, the trees worship, the goats seems to be singing to God in their language, but I do not worship, I do not even believe in God, I used to, but not anymore. If there be God, why…

You’re talking to yourself again, Amadi says, as he comes out of his house with his eyes looking like he got punched in his sleep. He sure is an ugly young man, his eyebrows remind me of the weeds on the cocoa plantation Mrs Eve had before she passed away, his eyes are too big, they seem like they will pop out to catch you if you dare stare at them. Oh his nose, they resemble the broken handle of a weeding hoe, not to talk of his lips, you will lose your face if you ever kissed them, but he is all I have now, he is the only man in this village that accepts to talk to me, I appreciate it like that.

What can a woman like me do, I said, talking to myself makes things better, it makes me better, all I have is myself, so let me talk to myself

You can not go on like this, marry me let me take care of you. My people are very loving and they will take care of you, he said as he drinks his palmwine

As far as I was concerned, he was not talking to me, the only thing I hear is the wind blowing as it passes me by.

I hate this wind, it’s too cold. I need to get inside and cover up. Good morning Amadi, I said, as I went into the hut to continue my episode…

I went to the market later in the day, I needed to make banga soup, but I do not have money, I have to beg mama Emma to give me food stuffs on credit, I will pay her when I get the money, I will pay her for others too, she is a good woman, she will give me, after all she is the pastor’s wife, she might even ask me to forget about the debt.

I am at her store now, but can’t go in. He is in there, he has been there for 20 minutes now, I have been watching him, he is telling her something, she looks upset, she is waving her hands in the air and cursing, she is shouting now, why is she shouting? What is he telling her? I am watching, he comes out, stares at me, he looks the same to me, bright eyes, broad shoulder, small lips, he did not change much,

You are doing fine I see, he says

I do not have money, I am not happy, please give me back my children and some money to feed, I said as the tears roll down my cheeks, they are very hot

Do not starve yourself to death, you’ve lost so much weight, eat well, I have to go, take care of yourself, he said and walked away in his usual lazy man style.

I’m still standing here, I can’t find the strength to move, what was he doing here?

Do you want anything Adamma, Mama Emma calls out, you stand there like you have just seen a ghost, are we safe?

I let out a sigh, We are safe, I replied, I just needed to make banga soup, I do not have money, I know that I am owing you plenty money, but I still have not found a way to pay back, I was wondering if you can help me out, I promise to pay you once I have your money, but if it is not okay by you, I totally understand

It is okay my child, I will give you, and you can pay whenever you want to, I am a very patient person, it is not easy with you, and I understand, it will be fine Nne, always keep that in mind, she said, and began measuring the palm fruits, handed them over to me with some bonga fish

you don’t have to pay for the fish, it is a gift, cook sweet soup o

Ah, thank you ma, God will bless you, thank you ma, the words seem to fade out my mouth as tears flood down my cheeks again, I was never a beggar, but begging now is my profession

She comes over to console me, it is okay, put yourself together and go home to make food and eat, don’t do this in public, biko, go home, go home ada, get some rest

I could not get any rest, I stared at the stainless plates with garri and soup, no appetite to eat, I begin to cry; but God why, why? I have no husband, no children, nothing, I am alone, I am now a laughing-stock, people mock me, and you stay there in your big throne, you did not do anything, anything to stop his parents from taking everything from me, they took even my children, ewo, God why? I hate you, I hate you so much that if I see you, I would kill you, oh, Okafor was a good man, a good husband, why would I kill a good man, why would I poison him, I am finished. I cried till my tears dried, at least I have this hut, that is all I have left, I thank you for that.

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

The redemption

<a href="http://Fearless Fantasies“>
image

It’s the dawn of beastly
an era of flickering triumph
arising from an army within
redefining the broken edges
caressing the pain we hide
the fear of letting go ruins the dawn
letting darkness sneak through
tracing the faults to blame
see not the flames in terror
but the burnt bridge it yields
to be born is to be free
and to be free, is to be alive
the fight never ends, it goes on
the day you win, is the day you become alive.

Copyright© 2015. Ruth Brodrick

SUICIDAL…

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awakening to the paradox
the denied passion lives on
jingling between confusion
yearning for freedom helplessly
the tempt is in your eyes
cast out the plaque to see

you run away from nothing
the chase remains invisible
with blurred perspectives
for it is within, in your head
your ruin started with the thoughts
caressing plots of frustration

summoning your fear to submission
vaguely accepting the unknown
you’re too weak to resist
falling too hard to get up
for your thoughts betrayed you
and left you hanging dead

with a short rope to the ceiling
and head adorning the earth
with one last glance, you eloped
then you realize, it’s just a mirage
nothing really happens impromptu
the genesis was when your thoughts lied…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick

P.S: I’ve been too busy to even stop by and do the usual blogging activities, but I think of everyone here, I miss you all. Can’t wait for the holidays.
I sincerely apologize for my absence. Hope to be back soon. Love you all…

IVORY CAST

dream3

She stayed glued to him
for a thousand years,
yearning for his heart beat
or the helpless breath of awake,
yet he denied her loyalty
and spat on the love she offered,
mocking the tales of Ivory Cast;
the epitome of a fine skinned woman
with the prudence of half an angel.

He said to her, I know thee as beautiful
dauntless like a sapphire, you truly are,
with eyes sparkling tenderness
and lips tearing down denial
but to me, you are nothing.
Weak men see the plastered deceit
but I see the falsity of thy love
and I hear the voices that roam say,
do not look too deep,at a beautiful woman
for her eyes carry the tempt
that will murder you to insanity”.

If beauty was my choice dear Ivory,
you will be my queen for all thy life,
but nay, beauty is the wrinkle of the skin
and character, the beauty of the face.
See now my dear, that you are nothing?
Your beauty is nothing but dust…

©2015. Ruth Brodrick

NOT SO PERFECT

sad-girl

Twirl and run
the curse of our youth chases

Grind and hunt
the warmth of our hands hoods

Cracked and aged
the decision of death is gain

Old and young
the sins we commit are equal

Tamed and loud
the lips still let out evil words

Wise and the foolish
the difference between us is brain

Sad and happy
the truth is our face remains the liar

Grey and hurt
the memories is called ‘regret’

Copyright© 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

<a href=”http://Out of Reach“>

GROWN UP

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when I was a child
my innocence spoke
it wore white linen
reflecting my inner peace
and my satiable spirit
my eyes were scarlet red
defining the ark of true living
my love, was unconditional
erupting smiles that healed hearts
that was me, the little sunshine…

…this is me, the nagging adult
my prudence lost me as I grew
no more peace, just me in the dark hollow
I wear a black apparel and call it white
but I do know I evolved into me
blame the trauma called love, it broke me
so much that my new profession
is to curse the daylight out of people
my sweetness rode away
leaving me dry and cracked
I am something not everyone knows
but I know me and who I’ve become
the stubborn wild grown up…

                                    ©2015. RUTH BRODRICK

<a href=”http://Simply the Best“>

DANCING WITH THE SHADOWS

<a href="Shadow“>

image

Dancing with the shadows
arms and feet in motion
the sanity of madness is born
hovering around like foul spirits
conjuring the dead to speak
clouding visions that seem to transit
spooky shadows arising to play
they want souls, and not skin
to steal, kill and destroy.

Paint a fair picture of torment
the tripled numbers of souls lost
nothing more haunting than solo trips
rattling in and out of freedom walls
to a world confined in shadows
play with the devil, dance with the shadows.

Listen to the inner spirit speaking
hop not into this eternal damnation
stay in the light, it repels the shadows
reviving lost souls and tearing down fear
still, the shadows roars, it never stops
beware it won’t stop haunting till it’s full
your soul is all it wants, run…

©2015. Ruth Brodrick.

IN MY SKIN…

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Skinned by the sun,
haired by the waves,
I told her, her beauty beats.

She wears her ebony in shades,
rocking her aso-eke to fit,
with beads outlining her waist.
The calabash knows her hands,
as she toiled the soil to yield,
even the cassava farm hails,
springing the rooted culture.
The voice of the masquerade,
mimicking the ekombi goddess,
dancing to call the river spirits.
The diversity of potent crafts,
terra-cotta moulded the norms,
and fiction of the gods that were.
Her two-wrapper buttocks has ego,
to shake and waist out her full strength.
She’s not ratchet, she’s just me,
the girl in her own skin…

Copyright© 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

<a href="http://Take It From Me“>

…AND I STILL CHOOSE TO WAIT

<a href="Barter System“>
image

On the sea
I sail to wait
for your return.
Why you left me
where you
found me, I don’t know.
Under candle lights
in dark caves
my soul searches
for you and all of you.
The whisper
that greets me
says You won’t be back
but with you
next to you
is where I rather be.
So I choose to wait
for a thousand times
in a thousand lifetimes
I will wait for you.
Till my feet grow weary
and hands feeble
but still my heart
will wait for you
to come and love,
and if you do not come
I still choose to wait…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

DON’T BE SELFISH, IT’S ONLY TEMPORARY

<a href="The Satisfaction of a List“>
image

If you think life isn’t fair to you, and you believe no one understands how you’re trying to cope with living, then I think your simply selfish. Yes selfish.
Why would you ever imagine that you’re the only one with an undersized wardrobe, or one pair of shoes, or 0-0-0 meal schedule, it’s simply you exhibiting the skill of selfishness to think ‘it’s just me that life treats this way’.

Letting go the lens of selfishness, you’d see that, there are problems others have that you never believe existed, but they cope with it. ‘It’s not how big your problems are, but how well you manage them to shut them out eventually.’

The problems of a selfish man never goes away because he always capitalizes on them, as such, they become his best friend without his approval. They are always there with him, to spoil his mood, push away close friends, hurt loved ones and of course frustrate even the air he breathes to survive. Problems are always there, they never go away. Sometimes they even wear shields against our defense, they just always find a way to distort us, it might be as little as the way the interview went pretty awkward, or how your belly is so big, or how your nose is bent, or how you’re not getting enough attention from men, or as big as there is no money to pay the bills, pay for gas and no job. You know what?, when next you feel your head is too big with problems, just think of people living in underdeveloped world, they have no water, food or clothing, but they are thankful for life and of course they manage their condition better than you… I think that’s bigger on the chain of problems.

A thankful spirit yields overwhelming testimonies, and being thankful means;
Relaxing,
Ignoring,
Hopeful,
And forging ahead.
As long as it can’t kill you, don’t kill yourself about it. It’s only temporary.
Problems are regular visitors, either you learn their strategies and get less bothered, or you just bag up your chest with them and rant in your selfishness…

My advice—> when you see problems, think of solutions and not complains…

By Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved©

‘7’ is the new ‘8’

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Blanked modality
of uneven triads
The fiction of
fine ego plunges on.
Abusing the
finer pursuit of
heroism,
Denying the need
to fathom free.

Gore;
the veil that
praises the fallen
triumph,
Blindly staring at
patched rising mockery,
Pulling up the
jurisprudence of
fevered eyes.

As the sun sets
on easter domes,
the pictures
of merry plastered
tribunes glows.
Of a fine linen
scar,
bears obsolesce;
‘the idea of a
vain world in
a squared sphere’

The enigma of
the lost,
balances the
magic.
Moving into
little matted vein,
7 became the new 8
while we rode to
Jupiter…