He wrote an epistle to the silence

And febrile months round him stalk

The torment of the scrawl, lone

Anthem to the book bereaved

And hours, and hopes that flew

In sightless aid for the titan Strike.

He bore the titan holes from beak to brain

Syllabus slipped, curriculum curled

Frozen to the naira exiled

From columns to rows, where it fled,

Bred the hatch of the halt, of direst demands

That stay invention by the gate –


No fatigue possible to mind

Assuaged the fever of the pause;

Waiting, he supposed, was such another

Curse to douse the sloth, of a phase of being

Immured to time’s passing death; for

Every night dropped to find no youth

Against his anxious eyes

Notions wilder, than the tousled class

Flickered through his wandering mind,

A season conquest, blue-penciled, potent

Pulses from erstwhile surges of algebra

Were reaped to compute the risk

Of a Stray’s relief, to brace the peril.

He vanishes.


One morning, I saw his face

Braced to iron bars on the fore

Of a penny newspaper; waiting –

Waiting the hour of a public lecture

At a conference of blabbermouths

5 thoughts on “Student” by Oyin Oludipe (@Oyin)

  1. I love this. Your choice of words are really enthralling… keep on noble poet…

    1. Oyin Oludipe (@Oyin)

      Thank you for reading

  2. Quite obscure for me, but well done.

    1. @sambrightomo, I’d suggest you go through it again, the obscurity and ambiguity it suffers may become understood in a new light…

    2. Oyin Oludipe (@Oyin)

      Well, the travails of the average Nigerian undergraduate are hardly obscure. You should review the poem as Inno rightly prescribed, and not just in words, but also in form. Thank you for commenting.

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