#folklores

6 posts
  • madinah_writes 16w

    If independence is achieved on a platter of gold,
    The institution of colonialism will remain forever it strong and old.

    Yet, we dream and follow promises complain their fake-interests.
    Everybody was creating the blames,
    Nobody was fixing the problems.

    Long Ago,
    In the African World.
    The old father's the young immediately after sunsets.
    When it was time for storytelling.
    Our folklores, Alo ati Orin ibile.
    Time for entertainment and moral lesson.
    When was the normal in the black society.

    Grandma tell me this!
    Grandma tell me that!
    Grandma tell me why the tortoise have a rough, shelly back?
    Why is the dog a hunter's pet?
    And why is lion the king of the jungle?
    That was so much fun,
    The children would gather under the gaint mango tree.
    Singing historical and cultural songs.
    Alo o! Aloooo!!
    Follows another set of mind blowing riddles.
    Flashing their smiles, showing off their expensive dimples.

    The children would rack their minds to answer grandma's questions.
    Brain cracking, riddle follows.
    Then, as I heard.
    Children would laugh to Grandma's stories and ask brainstorming questions.
    With words of wisdom where everyone could think by themselves.
    So I was told...

    And now, I'm growing.
    To what our life and living has become;
    Like a bird's empty nest, that was once filled with life.
    Now, I stare at the African life of nothingness.
    What I see is failed promises and bloodshed.
    Bokoharam, Herdsmen attack, EndSARS now!
    A dark, starless world in silence.
    As the youth of today cry and seek for the best.
    Hoping for a future that like a fairytale, might never come.

    When the best is traded for selflessness.
    What are we doing?
    Where are we going?
    Who is our tomorrow?
    When today is full of sorrow.
    Are we getting wiser?
    When all we depend on is Google and the internet?
    Fake news, swimming in the air like flies in dirt.
    Are we even blessed?
    When we await betterment from our so called leaders.
    Would there ever be a change or are all these sufferings are permanent?
    Year after year, we await to fill another hungry lion.
    Or have we forsaken the gods of the land?
    Which is which? I need to know.
    What is next, we need to think.
    Why is our tomorrow,
    Laying at the end of the brink?

    War of independence,
    Seen through it's eyes.
    That sees no transformation,
    All in the name of change.
    They change for the post of power that never satisfies them.
    The war of independence is war of death!

    Lasted with several years with thousand souls, dead.
    Dusted and forgotten.
    Women and children,
    Expecting genuine freedom from colonial rule!
    The independence they promised was not real, ungranted.
    Everyone was hungry to sit by the side of the power pot!

    The rich were getting richer and the poor, poorer.
    We were made as a stepping stones for the colonial masters. 
    Those days and still now.
    Independence turned out to be opposite,
    Corruption and injustice.

    © Madinah_Writes


    #Justice #Africa #folklores #mirakee #miraquill #Acienttimes #Yoruba #writersnetwork #Storytelling #prose #poetry #Reality #thoughts #democrasy #politics #politicalpower #writerbay #wriyerscommunity #pod #qod #wod

    Read More

    A Struggle For Justice.

    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 17w

    If independence is achieved on a platter of gold,
    The institution of colonialism will remain forever it strong and old.

    Yet, we dream and follow promises complain their fake-interests.
    Everybody was creating the blames,
    Nobody was fixing the problems.

    Long Ago,
    In the African World.
    The old father's the young immediately after sunsets.
    When it was time for storytelling.
    Our folklores, Alo ati Orin ibile.
    Time for entertainment and moral lesson.
    When was the normal in the black society.

    Grandma tell me this!
    Grandma tell me that!
    Grandma tell me why the tortoise have a rough, shelly back?
    Why is the dog a hunter's pet?
    And why is lion the king of the jungle?
    That was so much fun,
    The children would gather under the gaint mango tree.
    Singing historical and cultural songs.
    Alo o! Aloooo!!
    Follows another set of mind blowing riddles.
    Flashing their smiles, showing off their expensive dimples.

    The children would rack their minds to answer grandma's questions.
    Brain cracking, riddle follows.
    Then, as I heard.
    Children would laugh to Grandma's stories and ask brainstorming questions.
    With words of wisdom where everyone could think by themselves.
    So I was told...

    And now, I'm growing.
    To what our life and living has become;
    Like a bird's empty nest, that was once filled with life.
    Now, I stare at the African life of nothingness.
    What I see is failed promises and bloodshed.
    Bokoharam, Herdsmen attack, EndSARS now!
    A dark, starless world in silence.
    As the youth of today cry and seek for the best.
    Hoping for a future that like a fairytale, might never come.

    When the best is traded for selflessness.
    What are we doing?
    Where are we going?
    Who is our tomorrow?
    When today is full of sorrow.
    Are we getting wiser?
    When all we depend on is Google and the internet?
    Fake news, swimming in the air like flies in dirt.
    Are we even blessed?
    When we await betterment from our so called leaders.
    Would there ever be a change or are all these sufferings are permanent?
    Year after year, we await to fill another hungry lion.
    Or have we forsaken the gods of the land?
    Which is which? I need to know.
    What is next, we need to think.
    Why is our tomorrow,
    Laying at the end of the brink?

    War of independence,
    Seen through it's eyes.
    That sees no transformation,
    All in the name of change.
    They change for the post of power that never satisfies them.
    The war of independence is war of death!

    Lasted with several years with thousand souls, dead.
    Dusted and forgotten.
    Women and children,
    Expecting genuine freedom from colonial rule!
    The independence they promised was not real, ungranted.
    Everyone was hungry to sit by the side of the power pot!

    The rich were getting richer and the poor, poorer.
    We were made as a stepping stones for the colonial masters. 
    Those days and still now.
    Independence turned out to be opposite,
    Corruption and injustice.

    © Madinah_Writes


    #Justice #Africa #folklores #mirakee #miraquill #Acienttimes #Yoruba #writersnetwork #Storytelling #prose #poetry #Reality #thoughts #democrasy #politics #politicalpower #writerbay #wriyerscommunity #pod #qod #wod

    Read More

    A Struggle For Justice.

    ©madinah_writes

  • wordsoftheetwilight 22w

    When the world was in deception about the folklores and fairytales.

    They dared to make their reality worth it!



    ©wordsoftheetwilight

  • julyhues 22w

    .

  • haseya77 51w

    #folklores
    By unknown writer

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    Ab

    Ab mei Nahi rukungi
    nahi jhukungi
    ab mei sar ooncha rakhungi
    mujhe hai abhi abhi pata laga
    ke mei phir se uth sakti hu
    aur fir se gir bhi sakti hu
    abhi abhi ek nai duniya ne
    mujhe bulaya hai
    abhi abhi ek naye sannate ne mujhe pukara hai
    ab jaag musafir bhor bhayi
    ab rain kaha jo sovat hai
    Jo jagat hai, wo paavat hai
    jo sovat hai, wo khovat hai

  • thesagarikawrites 186w

    Are you ready for some grey series?

    #Folklores

    Find them in these tags.


    Witchcraft and Wizardry welcomes you.
    I would be inclined towards Slytherin haha.


    And may be, I'm a witch, you never know. (Laughs)



    #writersnetwork @writersnetwork @mirakee @readwriteunite @madmysterymagic @hayat_1410 @pamela_bhowmick @karios @my_cup_of_poetry @divokost @arborvitae

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    .