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Fiyinfoluwa Onarinde

Fiyinfoluwa Onarinde

A native of Ipetumodu in Osun State, Nigeria, Fiyinfoluwa Onarinde holds the notion that poetry is a tool for the liberation of human soul in the dual-plane of existence.

Fiyinfoluwa is privileged to have published in several poetry Anthologies. He contributed to the World Peace world Healing poetry collection conveyed by Inner Child Press based in USA. He has performed in different literary poetry events including the International Conference of Students of English Language in Nigeria and the Kistrech Poetry Festival in Kenya.

The poet is a member of the Association of Nigerian authors, Puma Creative Africa, ARTerial and joint founder of the PacessterPoets based in Nigeria. Fiyinfoluwa is currently a graduate student of Literature in the Department of English University of Ibadan, Nigeria


A solitary solo


I run mad in my lonesome fortress

A television for every room

My children coupled to the world

Rived within my walls.


I pronounce the name of the ancients in spluttered imagery

Crafted in the recall of distant dusks,

A compliment to their laughter.


My day is kindled by an unknown missive

A homeless missive written by an anonymous bard

Who travels the universe on the Wide World Web

Knitted in the spider’s web of light.


I laughed at the solitary image on the screen

My neighbour laughed and I laughed,

A thousand tickets sold.


With a simple solo

I returned to the streets draped in my shade of loneliness.


The drunken guard of my past

In a private conspiracy with my memory

Whistled a known tune that handcuffs me

His perimeter fence surnamed me a rooster in my farm yard.

His conspiracy betrays my present

In the shadow of my present divisions of the sociable unsociable.


In the shadow of my present divisions

Divided along party lines

With a wagon halted in the wilderness of religion

Closely united on these fronts yet a stranger on the street.


Burning Dreams


In this burning house

Where we stand on the smoke of burning dreams

In a garden of quicksand

Where the lizard calls the wall gecko

To play in a game of hide and seek. 


In this burning house

I learnt Bob Marley’s wailing lyrics

On my dinner of cigarettes

Which grew less with every greedy draw

That draws my years along as I inhale.


In this burning house I sit

In the middle of another dry season

With smoking rafts falling on my humiliated hunch.


In this burning house

Where a garden of budding orbs

Is harvested unripe with the grim reaper’s sickle of greed

I anaesthetize myself with this poetic musing.


In this poetic musing

I peep beyond the bars

That bars me to this house.


I peeped in the dream of dreams

From the soul of cactus dreams

Where the nutrients of tomorrow is preserved

In the dialogue of thick skins and strong hopes

Where my tomorrow is made certain.


A Sombre Battle for Tomorrow


I shall snob the virgin songs

In a sombre homage for tomorrow

I will shun the euphoric songs of chastity

With my father’s head buried in the sand like an ostrich’s

At the maidens dance of pride.


At sunset I shall hide my budding breasts

In the safe arms of the baobab tree

Where my story of glory shall be narrated when night fall.


Tomorrow the lady of the Nile

Shall protect me in her hut

Reading to me the book of the ancients

Of Cleopatra and Sheba

And the strong ladies of Amazon.


Tomorrow I shall rise from her door

Riding her horse of light

Shooting a million tweets of sensitisation

Against the rapists who in their senates contrive

To swim in the shallow pool between our thighs.


They pursue to make us mums

With their insatiable pricks

Instead of voting to give us books

Instead of voting to give us books

They poll to tear our veil apart

With a merger of our rectum and vagina

In the scourge of obstetric fistula

Disseminated by their withering scrotums.







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