<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


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…


©2016. Ruth Brodrick

<a href="http://Help“>



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


We want to live in…

A world where
love is supreme and
hate is a big disgust

A world where family
is not blood bound but
world bound

A world where race is
only but a colour, and
not a factor

A world where presidents
are selfless and point on
making countries rise

A world where corruption is
only a mirage and not an entity

A world where our legacy is
bent on loving, caring, sharing,
appreciating the ones who have no
other family than you and me

A world where one love is the
only word we speak, and the
only music we dance to

Let’s stop the fights, the killings,
the hate, the racism, we only
mock our existence and embrace
our extinction.

©2016. Ruth Brodrick



A silent call in the deadly hallows
The whistling of the night hunts
Snatching the warmth of pleasure
Counseling the nights of truth denied
The spill over remains the wisest tempt
Give in or give out, cost or lost

The shoe of vulnerability wears loneliness
Painted with desires that look innocent
Tearing down walls of protocols
Defining what never existed in time
Though the minivan rides along
One trip can ruin the whole nine yards …

Copyright© 2015. Ruth Brodrick


<a href="The Full Moon“>

My strong desire for endless triumph
I fought my war at full moon
staying awake with my violin
to play the night away
while I watch my victory transcend
into glorious melodies and notes
with ashes of victorious chants.

I played my music with a cold beat
and a soul-searching thirst,
then I became my own hero
because my desires
conquered the night…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick.



He said, ‘will you marry me’?

I said, ‘of what benefit will that be to me’?

He said, ‘of worlds entwined forever, and love ridiculed by me. Know this day, my fairest Pat, that I am incapable of loving you and not worthy to behold the stunning glory of your morning beauty, or the smiles that flows through your face that outshines dark feelings. But one thing I’m capable of, is being that one that’ll be by your side in and out of season, holding your hand, loving you the best way I can, and teaching life a new song, because what grows in my heart for you, it’s like aurora, something I am scared of. Cast me away, yet I’ll wait aside, by the corner of the lost love, not giving up, but still loving you till you see me again and love me. And your benefit; is me being your servant and still your king, my fairest.’

I gave him a second look, and asked if he meant all he said

He said, you know I do, in a thousand worlds, and in thousand lifetimes, it’s only you, and only you

I looked at him, this time I could feel my heart falling apart, and my head swelling up, I gave him one last look, and took the gun out of my purse and shot him.

Don’t ask me why? Ask him why he’s so good with words that he believes he can always get away with things, maybe not in this life, in the next. He deserved to die, a man who marries women to kill them?

Till then, he’d burn in hell for the 37 innocent girls he’d deceived into his marriage called serial killing.


Agent Pat, you copy?

Copy, Yeah, one down, three to go…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick.


<a href="Barter System“>

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.


<a href="Slash and Burn” target=”_blank”>


Let your mind spin in a merry circus and give light to your eyes in a dark world
For in the shadow of a dark world, only an ignorant soul triumphs
The eyes that sees through an opaque beauty, is truly the eye that passes on
It makes patches of illuminating ideas in a world so dark
The thoughts of a native mind meanders into a ring if antiquity
As it is the soulful trust of those that live in a trail

Open your eyes before the diamonds are thrust into a chest of escape
For your eyes see not the truth of the entirety of the dark world
The trouble that shoots in darkness, drags the flesh of the present along;
This is only true to a man who faces trouble in fear.
Let your soul meander through a light fountain of possible eruption
Bursting through and setting free the voices of captives held in dark walls

For the walls of a dark world, is built to trample on plastic minds
Minds with blurred intentions on a casted glory.

By Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved©



It was a cold night, she sat on the porch they always stayed, to stare as the stars grow in clear sky, waiting for him to come and visit like he always did.

It’s 25 years today Mary, Steven said as he moved over from the bench on the porch to sit on the step beside her, close enough to smell the burnt oregano smell of her hair.

You look good Mary, he said as he touched the skin of her face to push back a strand of her hair covering her eyes. ‘ I miss you, do you miss me’?

She turned to stare at him, words fail her as she met his blue eyes, they always seem to glow at night, radiating nothing but love and affection for her. It still surprises her how he managed to maintain his youthful figure.

Oh, Steven, my hands no longer have support, my waist hurts from always working in the garden alone, you know how hectic it can be down there, the weeds, the rose and oh the Dimorphotheca Sinuata, they grew out well…

Do you miss me? Steven asked again, this time with his brows raised so high

You know I do, Mary said, it’s so cold without you, the world is lonely, and me, I’m always sick without your love. I don’t just miss you, I miss all of you

Here take my hand, he stretched forth his hands towards her, she grabbed it and squeezed it while letting out a sigh of relief

You always have it Mary, I’m always with you, our worlds never moved apart, it’s just that somethings have to happen the way they do. People fall out of love, money, fame, but I’d never fall out of love with you, no matter the distance, never, never, never, never….

She looked up, I’d never too, she said and bent over to kiss him.

Ssshhhh, sssshh, Ssshhhh

The recording has stopped playing Ma, Come in for dinner, Angela called out from the kitchen

Mary got up and turned off the Radio,took out the tape and slid it into her pocket.

She’s kept the tape for 25 years, it was her last conversation with him, and it’s still Steven to her.

She carried Steven’s uniform along with her from the porch as she made her way into the house.

You okay Ma, Angela asked with concern, and how is he?

Oh yeah, he is great and he sends his regards, Mary answered blankly as she sat at the dinner table wondering what Steven would have for dinner in heaven…

By Ruth Brodrick.©



To hold me
To speak to me
To say to me
I’m beautiful without fault,
Even when my eyes sag with ugly
Always making my smile his priority
And oh, my happiness his duty
A man who loves me without self
Revolting the fears I nurture
Blinding the holes of doubt
Keeping the sapphire glowing daily

To take my hand
To walk with me
To say to me
The nicest words of praise
The day true love visited my house
I was too busy with blinded love
Now I’m searching in deepest waters
Over the cliffs and to the rainbows
The ones I hoped for are soon gone
It’s just me in the garden of life
With a basket that awaits true love

True love is nothing like just love
It wears the coat that chases cold
Loving deeply always, never away

By Ruth Brodrick

copyright 2015

<a href="It’s a Text, Text, Text, Text World“>

‘7’ is the new ‘8’


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

the veil that
praises the fallen
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
bears obsolesce;
‘the idea of a
vain world in
a squared sphere’

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


<a href="But No Cigar“>


Yesterday, I was a child with a home, today I am an orphan with no home.

My sister cries like a noisy housefly, because mama left us without saying goodbye.

Brother, now takes what is not his,
He said, “we have to survive no matter what”

Then the news came, brother is no more.

Pastor say, he’s off to hell to reap what he sowed
‘Him and your son too,’ I say to pastor, no one is righteous.

Brother was bad-good, he wanted us to eat.
Now my sister cries like a bush rat.

I’m off to the mainland looking for ‘maga’.
It’s just for one night, and I’m making mad money
Wearing designers and giving my sister food.

Now she cries no more, she’s happy and fat.

I’m thin and sick, my tummy hurts always
Doctor say I’ll be a mum soon, but I’m sick,

Dunno who is the father of the baby
So I call him bastard, he’s so ugly.

My sister is back with a degree and looking fine
She said she is now a doctor, but I don’t see how
She’s too small to treat a fat man
But she is good, but I’m getting sicker.

One day, she took my blood, she say is for test.
Then she came back crying, I asked why, she say my blood is bad
I asked how bad, she say very bad like brother’s blood,
I asked why? She said too many man blood in my blood.

I know I will die soon because I can’t move about again
But I’m happy, I made my sister somebody in the world.

I tell her, do not cry for me when I go
Because I sacrificed this blood to make you wear white coats
So for me, it was worth it…

By Ruth Brodrick
Copyright 2015

Of gods And Of Men

Of gods and of men
Of spirit and fleshy hearts
The battles of the realm is not ours
It belongs to them that lay unknown

Our fathers do evil, and say it’s good
Our mothers bear the shame in duty
We sit and watch the drama ignorant
Our lives were sacrificed to idols

The trail is none but ours to keep
The foundations are faulty and dark
Filled with horrifying tunes of idolatry
Lavishing in the heads of the priests

They say we are small gods, we are not
We are men who bear the load of ignorance
Pointing and blaming none but ourselves
We pay homage to woods that don’t bless

We say it’s tradition, is tradition really a joke?
Group the portions of sacred norms in parts
Then you’d find timeless machines of lies
Our ancestors deceived us; we deceived ourselves

By Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved ©2015

<a href="32 Flavors“>



Her veil is
Up, down, right,
left, centre.
The innocence of her
prudence destroyed.
Just a dark hybrid,
hold on to me,

Yet her hands
Her plain smile
Caressing the guns
of death.
Give her one last
You turned her, into
that stone-cold,
love assassin.

<a href="I Want to Know What Love Is“>

Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved ©



My earthly mother says hush
Of all the tucked up yearns
Find rest in delirious moments
Work while thy leg is thick
Stare not at half naked women
With bellies like burst balloon
Eyes front, face out like a soldier
That’s the way to yoga the trials
Stand on your jig sawed manners
Your head is the animal you hunt
Look beyond the twisted lines
Life is a score you’ll learn to keep
Your success; the pride of my breasts
Only then will the spirits lay mute
Hush my child, she says….

Ruth Brodrick

All rights reserved©



The way I love you
It’s in no way familiar
My heart has been stolen
Dressed with the best perfumes
And kept in a chest of your words

It’s a beautiful pleasure in here
My love for you surpasses strength
It’s fierce yet as calm as the waters
Even if you do not want me anymore
I would wait till you love me again

Like a nail driven far deep into the wall
I have driven myself into you, fixing my heart
I wish for you to see this, but also not to
The fear that you will think of me as weak
It’s actually why I keep dying in this box

I am actually weak; your smell, your touch
I am enslaved to a man who is strong-willed
Fighting away the cups that bear him wine
Helplessly denying the need to turn off lights
Still I love him for the poison he feeds me

The way I love you
Is that kind of way that tells a story
A story that will run on the lips of men
The story of how you tamed my prudence
And cultured my thoughts to wanting more

By Ruth Brodrick
All Rights Reserved ©



Look into my eyes
You would find a bright color
Contrasting that of the world
The world I am living in

My eyes sparkle curiously
Endlessly searching for an eclipse
It’s color erupts into pale shades
Hissing at the tragic views untold

Twinkle little stars
Wrinkle little minds
My lids are bound in anticipation
Anchored in disheveled brows

I see the original masterpiece
But nothing that looks like it is here
Only traces of man’s original fury
Blinded with the vain lust for perfection

Constantly blinking to filter the madness
Separating the thirst and pity from hope
The color I see in this world
Is nothing like the color I live in

<a href="Burnt“title=”My pink eyes”>

By Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved©


<a href="Tight Corner” title=”dailyprompt”>Man-begging-woman

He is caked in her love
Staring at her boils his ego to vain
Stuttering the edges of guided notions
With tenacity he holds on to her virtues
Admiring the sway of her waist as she moves
Daring the man who controls his head

He has become a fool for her
Doubling the reason, he stays in patience
Tracking his sweet dreams to her smell
He lays lost in awe of her resentment
Flattering the desires he will hurdle against
Drifting to waste in the bellies of none

He is enslaved to the taste of her skin
To give the last drop of his soul
Just to see the sun rise from her cheeks
And the waves of her smiles hunts his trunk
Earning a plethora of countless yearnings
Only to dive in a pool of wasted years

He does all for the love of this woman
To fervently look on the shine of her eyes
But he knows he is invincible to her
He is not her type, yet he loves the tight corner
A priceless jewel needs no ordinary man to love
Yet he loves, and fantasizes her to his death

By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved© , this poem should not be used or shared without the author’s permission



My Christmas was in a bottle

Red wine with Turkey

Let’s gossip Christmas

Bathed in reassuring tones

Ossified to grow in fame

Love and joy abounds

Leaning towards a new horizon

Farfetched stories under the moon

Doubt the red on the green tree

The sounds of forks fighting meat

And pans bearing cakes and pie

Rocking the beats of grandpa’s radio

Christmas was dressed in my bottle

I drank so I can merry with her

With my bottle in my hand

And my head in my bottle singing aloud

‘So long my dearest christmas
till we meet again’