Note to Somebody

Red sand on the pavement

Tracing the minutes-old tire tracks

Each thread of it ending by her flip-flops

The one she stood in, as she stared

At the red hot mist, fuming on the edge

Of dawn’s strained clouds,

A mist coagulating into the morning sun.

It brought a memory of someone to her

A one buried under piles of old journals

And photo-albums filled with pictures

That had been smudged with nostalgic longing.

The someone had a face made of wanting,

Of nights spent conjuring impossible fates

Like a bud of rose

sprouting in her fallow gardens of discontent.

The smell of that face was Livid,

A mix of waste and engine oil and oil-paints

And cancelled returns across hate lines, painted

The Colour Love.




Her baby was cradled in her arms,

Lying across her chest

Like a breathing bruise mark, a growing scar

Of that remembered somebody.

And like all scars hurt when they throb in sharp weather

Her chest hurt,

The tears lining down her face beat on the sand,

Hitting a pattern, a note to that somebody.

A breeze swept the plain, linen gown she wore

Close around her thighs,

Ghostly fingers of it caress her,

Legs, arms, face, hair –

A thought thrown through the wind

From a million miles across time,

Answering back, jot for touch.



The school buses honk,

To chase the goats along

The goats dash into the hens

A storm of feathers – resentful clucking

Bleating retorts, black droppings from their asses

Horned heads lower to graze the street dump

Birds flitting between trees and power lines, hooting


Oil sizzling in the frying bowl,

Around cut pieces of yam, bean cake, potatoes

At the wood stall, a shout away;

And the sun donning its golden garments

Claiming its sky seat- the sceptre of heat drawn

Readying, to rule the morning.

The first order of day, make a note to somebody

A million and six feet down.

20 thoughts on “Note to Somebody” by O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      @bunmiril, thanks for thinking so?

  1. This is another nice one. You’ve given me ideas.

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      @six, my fave NS poet. So glad you liked this. And i’m pleased it gave you an idea. You are always welcome

      1. I’m beyond flattered…. thanks O-Money, thanks.

  2. very beautiful imagery. i like.

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      Thanks, Adeleye

  3. ohhh…this is so cool…

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      @soogun, As always, thanks, you da best.

  4. Now, this is what I call Poetry

    Seasons greetings

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      @hymar, been a while. Belated seasons’ greetings (if that still applies). This is high, rock-me-till-i-cum praise from you, the high priest of no b.s. criticism o. Thanks boss.

  5. I like this alot, but the title in my opinion is not worthy of this great poem! For me, the poem ended at stanza two! Good work!

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      Irene, wow! Thanks you like. You could always change the title sha. And the last verse was just to situate the grief in the normalcy of morning life here in Africa. Thanks again

  6. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

    @Jefsaraurmax, thanks. Good to know you like.

  7. Chill tho, is it me or is the beauty of this poem just becoming evident 5 months after its release ?…..better get a patent or whatever they call those things @Omoniyi-Adeshola, don’t be surprised if (ahem) I (ahem) well……..good job, very very good job.

    1. O-Money (@Omoniyi-Adeshola)

      @six, it’s you nah…so do anything ya want with it. Butcher, cut, cleave, carve…anything. And i’m glad you think this is aging well, like good wine. Thank you for being you.

  8. Hehehe, thanks man.

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