League Day 34: MOHAMMED SHAMSUDEEN vs OYEKUNLE IFEOLUWA

WHEN ONE'S PRIDE IS BROKEN, ONE'S STRENGTH IS LOST. SPEAK OUT IN CASES OF MOLESTATION OR VIOLENCE... SPEAK!

NOTE;
1) The judges decision takes 70% of the judgement while well wishes and lovers of poetry votes takes 30%.

2) Upon no circumstance must any of the above mentioned poets vote.

3) The contestants are urged to invite friends to Vote for them using the comment section of this post. No rule exempts you from canvassing for votes.

5) Voting lasts for 18 hours from commencement of Duel.

6) Vote using I VOTE POEM 1 or I VOTE POEM 2

7) Results would be uploaded briefly after the closure of votes.

Good luck to the wordlords.. LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!

THEME: STOLEN PRIDE

MOHAMMED SHAMSU-DEEN

TITLE:Improper Fractions

A girl is dragged into sea of sorrow

Without time enough to secure her gills

Forcing her feeble gums to grind

The hardened grains of glum glory;

This girl is a cat like a cart

Sagged by loads of baby marriage,

Her life scattered in ruins.

See burdens’ beautiful hands

Writing wrinkles in infant faces

With babies wresting from these babies:

Asana receives dowry on her mother's lap.

Yam cut the navel of Funke as bride price

And sent her away at age of suckle

A girl who stop primary school

Is made to carry big numerator

And stunted to a dwarf denominator

How can she divide into child and adult?

Legal rape is in long division

That comes at each subtraction

Forming wells of sour memories

Gnawing the limbs of prosperity

Peeling pride from panties below puberty

As Dojia breaks a bud

And swims in her blood.

When they wear wooden googles

To blind their sight from foresight

They solve partial fractions

Entrusting our girls to indivisible numbers

Which turn us in mixed factions

So our marks are often losses

Counted in recurring decimals

Because a girl is a country. 

OYEKUNLE IFEOLUWA

TITLE; STOLEN PRIDE

(THE STORM THAT QUENCHED MY BURNING GOALS)

I was a girl with burning goals

that fire could not quench.

Until my parents soiled my hope

and brought my goals to rest.

I was married off at age nine

to a bald-headed man.

Mother betrayed my fresh hot tears

for palm wine in gold kegs.

They pierced my soul without conscience

and married me away.

I was still naive without breasts

to feed a child a child a day.

I was a kid and not a bride

to be robbed of her pride.

This song is rich with bitter tunes;

A dirge under the moon. 

Who do I tell this bitter tale

of being abused by fate?

My parents were the devil used

to steal my pride away.

This song has lost its melody

for I’m a hopeless bride.

This song is like an eulogy

that dries my tears at night. 

© iPod

OYEKUNLE IFEOLUWA PETER