So I'm challenging myself to write 30 poems in 30 days.
See how I get on on the "30 Poems for 30 Days" page above.

My Becoming

Pinned to my mother’s side
Condemned to watch
When too young to cook
Cook when too old to watch
She watches me now


Moving to an anthem of gasps
That strangle the air
As my outstretched hands
Unleash tong like bare
Fingers, hugging the shoulders
Of a boiling pot to safety

With waving hands
And concrete words she
Rescues the air
From a pack of startled women
“My daughter can handle it”
She says.
Something in my mother’s tone

Unclipped my wings.
Was that pride she wore like skin?
The assurance of a teacher who
Laid down the tracks of my becoming
And watched the foundations rise
Beyond her humble classroom

Watching her face
I am 5 again
Tracing the road to 30
Viewing the sites
Differently

5,
Stilted by 4 wooden legs
Pounding laughter from cookie dough
Moulding her face into smiles

10,
Mentally minuting
The water before the rice
The boil before the rise
The wisdom in her eyes
The guests before the husband before myself

15,
Sweeping tears away,
Finding obligation scratched
Onto kitchen floors, reducing
Parental commentary into
Sauce, pounding sibling rivalry
Into yam, understanding nothing

20,
Carving independence
The flower of her words
Finally blossom in a soil of
Experience. In foreign lands
But kitchens always
Call in my mother’s voice.

30,
My kitchen now
Memories buried in every pot
I hold my mother’s eyes
And smile, letting myself
              Fly
On the wings of her pride



©Tolulola Agbelusi

WE ARE (For the Year 11 Girls at Haggeerston School)

This poem is generated from the words and feelings expressed by a group of girls who attended my workshop on 25th January.

Our mothers told us we were beautiful, smart,
brave, passionate; a gift to the world. We wore
her smiles bright. Chasing the dreams she had for
us on chariots of her pride. On the first day of school,
she kissed her words into our cheeks so we would
never forget. But the wind blew them away until we
found worth only in other’s opinions, in boy’s arms
In fabricated personalities, in dumbing down.
Another wind is blowing; a piece of paper
littered with words that will determine our

futures. We smell hints of our mother’s words
and piece together our stories like armour
for battle; discarding the insecurities the world
gave to us. We are not the sum of opinions.
We are beauty in shoulders people bow into,
offering sacrifices of tears as burdens float away.
We are hands that carry and care for a world that
cries for the tenderness of our perfect imperfections.
We are brains manufacturing talent, tomorrow’s leaders.
Wombs unashamed of failings that help us conceive our

true selves. We are bees stinging laughter into bitter
Situations. Forts of secrets that seam your
worlds together. We are anger that sparks
revolutions out of stagnation. Truth that
requires no explanation. We are perfect
futures in construction, slaying negativity in a once
forgotten chariot. We are our mother’s daughters
slowly becoming Women our daughters will be proud
of. We are girls on the brink of womanhood
claiming our rights to succeed.


©ToluAgbelusi 2013

Life is Lived Forwards but Learned Backwards

Life is an adventure and I plan to live it
Speech is a gift and I plan to use it
So that tomorrow doesn’t tell stories of what should have would have could have been
If only I had lived outside my box
If only I had said and done
If only’s I don’t want at all

So with my voice
I’ll lead you down corridors unknown
Where you can learn things untold
From questions asked
And times I laughed
From dreams I’d share if you’d care to ask
From cares I embrace
And fears I’d like to erase

I’d show you a me unimaginary
But only if you’ll let me.

©Tolulola Agbelusi

Conversation with my 40 year old self

This month being December and all I thought I'd look forward 10 years and write a message to myself.

So tell me

Are you smiling now?
Taller from mountains of hope
That fuelled your growth

Are you happy now?
Toned from hurdling over obstacles
That incessantly stalked your path

Are you laughing now?
Brushing cheeks with the elusive ‘one day’
Finally visiting screaming good morning the storm is over

Do you have it now?
Success at the end of a very long lonely tunnel
That promised no end

Did he come?
Dimpled, big smile,
Tall and talking sense

Are you married now?
Mother, Lawyer, Poet
Crazy Superwoman that you always were

Has hindsight flown in happy?
Tickled past pains into non –existence
Does she still have you giggling now?

I wonder

Did you tell them?
Unleash tales of hurricanes that tossed your brown skin beige
And left you broken till God collected and mended the pieces

Did they wonder?
Whether your sanity absconded
Leaving you with wild tales that were far from real

Did you show them?
Reveal battle scars and make them realise
Your sanity strength was fired in long hardship

Are you smiling?
Are you laughing?
Did we make it?

Tell me.

THE THING ABOUT LOVE

Sometimes
When words land heavyenough to bruise,
And cause gashes deep enough to peer into the very depths of your soul-
It’s         because           it hurts!
Infuriates
Boils blood crimson red
Clots it black
And then boils it red all over again
To watch a loved one choose to walk off a bridge in the name of freedom
And be powerless to hold them back.

It pains
And it is not a feeling that demands rewind often or at all
There is nothing worse than fighting to save a life
That disregards its own true form in a mirror
And instead reflects an imaginary construct
In the body of which blindness, self-loathing and lack of any perspective
Feel at home

It hurts
To watch a loved one vacillate
Between regression
And remaining
In the pit of their despair
Knowing that the world waits- there at their finger tips
Daring them to clutch and hold on to something greater
But you stay down
You choose to stay down
And somehow delude yourself into thinking you are still fighting

It hurts
To fold back screams
Into neatly packaged phrases
Designed to sink sense into you and your manmade pit
Knowing these words entwined with love and all the wisdom I have
Three pronged and strong as they are
May still not suffice to halt your jump or stop your fall

So when my words cut
Leave scars deep enough to sow seeds of thought
Which yield fruition in the questions
Why do you hate me so much
Why can’t you just let me go
What was all that talk of love in moments not so long ago

Then
I‘ll send a whisper through the wind to tell you
Hate is the brother of love
Often mistaken one for another
But distinguished by context
And clarified by intention
Hate has no home here

But if words are all the armoury I have
To cause dents deep enough to jolt you into right thinking
Fling you against multiple mirrors till your self constructed image cracks
And you finally see your true self
Stop you in your tracks before you walk too far off the ledge
If words are all the armoury that I have
Then I will bruise, cut, gash and dent you
with words coming from a place of love
That refuses to comfort foolishness at the risk of losing you forever

The thing about love is,                     sometimes
You may hate me for it
But sometimes, I will hurt you to save you
Because that’s the kind of risk real love will take
When the prize is worthy like you are to me.

ROSE THAT GREW FROM CONCRETE

If you missed me on Vox Africa TV's Manolorgz special, here it is again

If they told you the sky was purple
You wouldn’t eyes closed, no second guessing believe it
You would look
See the sky was blue
Find the basis for their contention
And then go ahead and challenge it

But, they have told you,
There is no need for you to pursue education
That you lack the skills to further ambition
They said your people came from nothing
And had to be taught civilisation
They mandated you control your aspirations
And not ask so many questions
They said slavery was wrong
But it was a symptom of your condition
So you should be grateful
That they gave you your freedom
Gave you a whole month
To celebrate your liberation
They have distorted your history
Fed you lies wrapped in purple sky
Tell me - why do you so easily believe them?

Why not look past what’s been fed to you into your past
Unpack the boxes of history
And let those stories be your guide
Then you would know your ancestry is an achievement mine.

That Africa had 10,000 states and Kingdoms before the Europeans arrived
That slavery did not kill your people’s will to fight
That Claude McKay said they were “pressed to the wall, dying but fighting back”
That first generation sons of slavery didn’t let circumstance hold them back
That here, in the UK, William Cuffay, fought not just for his but for universal suffrage rights
Leading the first mass political movement at a time when Black people weren’t known for having rights
That before there could be an Obama, there was a Shirley Chisolm
First African- American Female to stand for US presidential office in 1972
That before Mo Farrah and Usain Bolt could take world stage
Jessie Owen had to outrun Hitler

You would know that you come from a long line of caring strong men
Who having reached the top of the ladder
Cane down and fixed the missing rungs so others could climb higher
Like Olaudah Equiano who was kidnapped from Nigeria at age 11
Sold into slavery in Virginia and again till he ended up in the UK
Bought his freedom and then became a powerful voice in the abolitionist movement

Like Nelson Mandela who exemplified the mantra ‘no man left behind’
When in 2002 he repatriated the remains of Saartjie Baartman deceased in 1816
A Black woman taken from her homeland and paraded as a freak show in Europe in life as in death

Nelson Mandela,
Who fought apartheid at the expense of 27 years incarceration
And then showed us how to turn brokenness into the highest position
Don’t tell me the doors aren’t open

Imagine if we celebrated true success instead of instant stardom
Acknowledged the achievement in the journey as well as the result
Understood that gold only comes from a fire mould

If you would just take the time to look
you would know that strength pumps through your veins
That untold possibilities can result from your pains
That they have only told you enough to keep you in chains
And it is up to you whether you choose to believe them

When no one opened the doors for our predecessors
It didn’t stop them it just made them fight harder
When they were locked in
They slipped out through cracks determined to triumph
They rode their adversities like horses
Until the world reckoned with them
They stood strong
Fighting for worthy causes
Buying our freedom with their blood

So next time someone tries to put you in a box
Conveniently marked; black, unproductive, always needs a crutch,
Before you consider crawling in,
Think about it!
Remember your history and
Know that what you do, what you achieve, who you become
IS your choice
©Tolu Agbelusi

Manolorgz - Black History Month

I'll be featuring on Manolorgz Black History Month series on Vox Africa TV on 4th October 2012. Channel 218 on sky, tune in to catch me at 7. 25. This is is the promo. Enjoy

RECIPE FOR HAPPINESS

Those that know understand that life's been hard for me recently but now more than ever I am thankful for my blessings cus it can always be worse :). I did a workshop online that asked the participants to think about the worst time in their lives and how they got through it, then write a recipe for happiness. Here's what I came up with. Let me know what you think and by all means share if you like it.

When the sadness strikes
And you find yourself in the middle of a long dark tunnel
With a sudden hint of light
And you know without a shadow of a doubt
That that light is nothing other than another train coming to mow you over
Here’s my recipe for happiness

1. Laugh
Laugh out loud with a big belly laugh
Ignoring everything and everyone around you
Nothing is funny
But trust me it will heal you
So just laugh
Keep going until the madness sets in
And your body gives in
To numbness or to tears
One of them will surely set in.

2. Pray
Like your life depends on it
This is not a time for holy pretentious prayers
There is only one rule
You need to be real
Say what it is you are thinking
Shout, complain, express your anger
Remember to stay respectful
And make requests like you know
You are speaking to someone who is not bound by human limitations

3. Talk
But be careful about who you speak to
Avoid all those good intentioned friends
Who don’t understand or who require way too much explanation
The experience of talking to them will drain you
And their empathy will only frustrate you
So where possible just avoid them
Let them love you from afar
Instead
Find a friend in a similar situation
And talk about your woes until you can joke about life’s blows
And get lighter as the sharing momentarily eases your burdens

4. Fight
When that morning comes –
And you feel your world caving in
And your heart craves a dark lonely quiet corner
Or the height of a steep roof
When you feel your strength is waning
And you are about to give in
Fight

6. Remember, your story is not yet over

7. Take a break
Stand still,
And just let the world go by
Cry if you need to
Let your soul sigh
Defy those well-meaning fools
Who say sleep is for fools
Tell them sleep is one luxury you can still afford
Then go ahead and enjoy it

8. Wake up refreshed and determine to live on purpose
Remembering that struggles breed progress
And overcoming hardship makes for true success

9. Know who you are
Do not let your circumstances dictate your self perception
Remind yourself you were right when you dreamt you were made for greater
This is just a phase sent to build your character
This is just a phase; things are bound to get brighter

10. Repeat steps 1 to 9 in any order
And then Laugh, Pray, Laugh, Laugh, Pray,
And keep going
Until you see the light at the end of the tunnel
And you know that it IS your redemption

©Tolu Agbelusi