FOR THE BOYS: We also need mentors.

Silas Bamigbola

We were boys bearing our fathers’ names, 

Looking for how to create names for ourselves. 

We knew not the way through this ancient terrain; 

We wandered off

And drifted away
Getting lost at night under bridges.

Antique boys who have become men
Were cruel enough not

To delineate maps for us, that we may use 

Through this rollercoaster ride.
Yesterday I asked a supposed ‘sage’

How he did it?
He babbled
And shrugged me off.

We are still driving through this tumultuous route 

Who will lead us?
Who will tell us the stories of
‘When men were boys’

I wish our elderly male
Will become a light
And carry us on their wings
And tell us tales of how they survived.

Cultivating Equipped and Resourceful Minds

Silas Bamigbola

In a world filled with challenges and opportunities, the quest to become equipped and resourceful men is an aspiration shared by many young individuals. To embark on this journey, we turn to the wisdom of a simple yet profound poem:

FECUND MIND

If you want to set

The soles of your feet

On lands and to realms you have never been,

Caress, smooch, and romance books.

The mind is a wide, bare, fecund land,

Where needful trees must be rooted in,

And if left to fallow,

Weeds find their abodes on it.

Like whetstones to swords,

Sharpen and hone your mind with books,

And in years to come,

With it, you rip the flesh of enemies,

And heal the souls of men.

–Silas Bamigbola (Lost Boys)

The words above, inspire us to unlock our potential through the power of knowledge. Let’s delve into how this poem embodies the essence of becoming equipped and resourceful men.

1. Setting Foot on Uncharted Lands

The first stanza of the poem urges us to set our soles on uncharted lands. This is a metaphor for exploring new territories, be it in our careers, personal lives, or the pursuit of wisdom. To embark on this journey, we must “caress, smooch, and romance books.” Books are our guides, mentors, and windows to the world’s collective knowledge. By immersing ourselves in literature, we equip our minds with the tools to navigate the unknown.

2. The Fecund Mind

The mind, as described in the poem, is portrayed as a wide, bare, fecund land. Just like fertile soil, the mind must be cultivated with care. Neglect allows weeds to take root, symbolizing the dangers of ignorance and misinformation. To become equipped and resourceful men, we must nurture our minds by sowing the seeds of knowledge and critical thinking. It is through this process that the “needful trees” of wisdom take root, giving us the foundation for growth.

3. Sharpening the Mind with Books

The second stanza emphasizes the importance of sharpening our minds with books. Much like a whetstone hones a blade, books serve as the tools for honing our intellect and skills. In the words of the poem, we are reminded that with a well-prepared mind, we can “rip the flesh of enemies” and “heal the souls of men.” This dichotomy reflects the dual power of knowledge – the ability to overcome challenges and contribute positively to the lives of others.

In conclusion, the journey to becoming equipped and resourceful men is one that demands constant nurturing of the mind. The poem “FECUND MIND” serves as a timeless reminder that books and the pursuit of knowledge are our faithful companions on this path. We must embrace them wholeheartedly, for it is through our commitment to learning that we will thrive, overcome adversities, and make a lasting impact on the world.

In a world where opportunities abound, and challenges are ever-present, it is our responsibility to harness the power of the fecund mind, to set foot on uncharted lands, and to embrace the wisdom that books offer. Through this, we can become equipped and resourceful men, poised to shape the future with knowledge as our ally.

FOR THE BOYS: We also need mentors.

Silas Bamigbola

We were boys bearing our fathers’ names,

Looking for how to create names for ourselves.

We knew not the way through this ancient terrain;

We wandered off
And drifted away
Getting lost at night under bridges.

Antique boys who have become men Were cruel enough not
To delineate maps for us, that we may use Through this rollercoaster ride.
Yesterday I asked a supposed ‘sage’
How he did it?
He babbled
And shrugged me off.

We are still driving through this tumultuous route Who will lead us?
Who will tell us the stories of
‘When men were boys’

I wish our elderly male
Will become a light
And carry us on their wings
And tell us tales of how they survived. 

This poem, titled “FOR THE BOYS: We also need mentors,” reflects the desire for guidance and mentorship from older male figures by young boys as they navigate the journey from childhood to manhood. The poem highlights the challenges faced by boys in finding their own identities and establishing themselves apart from their fathers’ shadows.

The first stanza talks about the boys seeking to create their own identities and feeling lost as they attempt to navigate the complexities of life (“ancient terrain”). They wander and drift, facing difficulties and uncertainties (“getting lost at night under bridges”).

In the second stanza, the poem mentions “Antique boys who have become men” – referring to older men who were once in the same position as these boys. However, these men were not compassionate enough to provide guidance and mentorship (“cruel enough not to delineate maps for us”). The poet seeks direction and guidance from these experienced individuals but is met with indifference or unhelpfulness.

The third stanza reflects the frustration of seeking advice from a supposed ‘sage’ who offers no real wisdom, merely “babbling” and brushing off the poet’s inquiries. The lack of proper guidance leaves the boys still struggling on this “tumultuous route,” longing for someone to lead them.

The poem concludes with the poet expressing a wish for the elderly male figures to become mentors (“become a light”) and provide support and inspiration (“carry us on their wings”). They are encouraged to share their own life experiences (“tales of how they survived”) to guide the younger generation through the challenges of growing up and becoming men.

Overall, the poem speaks to the universal need for mentorship and guidance during the transition from boyhood to manhood. It emphasizes the importance of experienced individuals sharing their knowledge and stories to help the younger generation find their way and establish their own identities.

Romantic Verses

Silas Bamigbola

ROMANCE

Our brother has fallen out of love again,

What shall we do?

Here is he, broken,

Sulking and trying to find solace

From we his homies

“Brother, don’t be catholic than the pope,

Have you forgotten that

Our sisters are not sexless angels.

When it comes to romance

Mr Cupid is more respected

Than God.”

Untitled I

I thought lovers were supposed to find solace in themselves.

To spread out before themselves,

Sort out and pick out

What makes their souls cold

And allow the hot flame of love to warm them

Instead of recoiling,

Instead of telling themselves

” got this”

As though they are strangers.

Untitled II

when the world was cold towards me, 

i came to you, my lover, for warmth 

and you were ice.

Untitled III

we played the game 

of who is more evasive, 

you won.

PRICELESS RUBY

I asked Arike,

“Who are you?”

She said,

“I’m a map

Leading you into places

The universe has intended you to be

And also to show our kids the right route in life”

Then, I knew

I did not make a mistake in making her

My priceless ruby.

Untitled IV

The way time scampers whenever we are together,

an hour lurching into another hour, then into five hours, 

and then into eternity, reveals to me that time is jealous of us.

Time wishes it also had a lover.

Untitled V

So, this night, I sit with your memories nestled in my heart, my earpiece tucked in my ears, listening to Romeo & Juliet sung by Johnny Drill, and I realise how much I miss you. How much I want to be in the same space at the same time as we breathe in the same air.

For Feranmi

On nights like this

I just cling to the beautiful memories

We’ve shared.

I draw your dimpled-beautiful smiling face in my heart

And as I close my eyes, 

I revel in the feeling it 

Gives me whenever I stare at

Your loving eyes.

My heart longs for you,

It yearns to be in the same space with you, 

To give you warm and loving hugs.

LOST BOYS by Silas Bamigbola

Today, we are looking at the importance of arising to take responsibility for the course our lives take. Many males are trapped in a web of ignorance of how to live a responsible life. Maybe because many have never seen their fathers take life or their family by its head and make something out of it. There is a lack of the appropriate template for them to copy; and we become what we copy. Some might be influenced strongly by peer pressure, friends who don’t take responsibility but always throw the blame card. The admonition today is that you awaken from your deep sleep and be responsible. That we put in the work to be better men.

For the lost boys
Who have lost themselves
In the thicketed forest;
Among bushes,
Shrubs, brushes
And big trees
Amidst wild animals
I whimper.

I know you are under the shadows of your fathers,
Public sots who reek of bottles of beers
And run after public holes of slut.

I know you are under the shadows of your friends;
Friends who have no ken of who they are,
Friends who lead you lurchingly into ditches
All because you are in a shell
Looking for stones to hatch you.

Your mothers have become religionists;
Mats, which acrid priests gracefully matched on
All because temples have become their homes
Where they offer prayers to gods.

I pray you rouse from your deep sleep
And find home in a wide expanse
Where niches do not overlap.

• Honouring Our Fathers
• The Power of Honour
• Identifying a Wise Man
• FOR THE BOYS: We also need mentors.
• Live as a Wise Man

BUILDING CASTLES

When I’m close to chill Jordan,
Old and grey and feeble,
Prepared to cross beyond the rivers
And ready to kiss the sky;
May nations mirth.

May the sands retain my vestige.
Rocks, my engraftment.
Memories, never forgetting my name.
Neighbours and friends, never forgetting my smile.
And memorials raised for me.

When all is well and done,
Giving God the glory and purpose fulfilled;
May I be a leechlike paint
On the parchment of people’s hearts,
And having a castle in the hearts of men.

• Honouring Our Fathers
• The Power of Honour
• Identifying a Wise Man
• FOR THE BOYS: We also need mentors.
• Live as a Wise Man

Gray Love

 

He was the shadowy shallow man
who acts like a fastidious, prude puritan
Putting every man on a slate,
Sternly slating soiled sinners.
He seems to have the ‘book of life’ in his hands
And with pencil and eraser
He spells the wrath of wretched sinners
“You! you did this and this and that
You will rot in seething sulphurs”

As He juries us,
He forgot he was also black and not white;
Now, we have spelt “Love” backward front
And it looks like “Hate.”
He has made us misunderstand God.

Grace is not actually what they have painted it to be:
Grace is spelt love
Grace appeared to all men
And love white and black as well.
Wouldn’t I call Grace gray?

So I told gray love
“I’m a fetid filth
Whose life touse apart.”
“I know,” HE said,
“here’s red”
HE wiped my slate clean
Now, black has become white.

Bamigbola Silas

WHO WILL DEFINE ME?

Laying down on my bed in the middle of the night,

I cognitated and thought and anticipated

I asked myself questions,

I can’t proffer answers to;

“what’s my identity?

Who will define me?”

With all my might

I ran and ran and ran

Looking for who to define me.

 

The North Pole knew I came to it

Likewise I trudged towards the South Pole,

It  can’t deny the fact

That I came to it.

Asking “who will define me? ”

 

Shiftless mind! Shiftless mind!!

I slipped into the crowd

Trying to fit in.

Unfortunately, mama and papa

Never gave me tribal marks

And that made me lost

Deep  Into the throng.

What’s my identity?

 

When will the thought

Of my purpose and bright future

Compel me to have

That frenzy feeling of joy.

Please who will define me?

 

P. S: Questions a reasonable man or woman begins to ask him/her self are,  “Who am I? Why in the world am I here? What’s my identity?”

 

It’s a question we must ask ourselves. Our Lord Jesus too had to know his identity, he knew his definition, no wonder   Jesus said in Hebrew 10:7 “Lo, I come (in the volume of the book it is written of me,).” also he defined himself to the hearing of the Israelites in Luke 4:18-19.
If we must know our identity, then we must begin with communication; initially with ourselves, then with God our creator. He has our manual, he can define us.

TEARS OF HISTORY…

Arike:

Baami who is that woman

Whose wailings fill our ears

Whose anguish silence the birds?
Father:

That is Itan

Mourning for her lost children 

Her sons and daughters

Her hope and life 
Arike:

Isn’t she the mother of Oduduwa the great warrior?
Father:

Yes she is . Oduduwa the great warrior

The brave and fearless man 

I remember the wars he fought for us 

Fought for our freedom 

Stood up to the white gods in our land

Alas! He is now a terror to chickens

Dreams are his battlefield 

Vituperates before his television and newspaper

His victory ends on the cushion 

A cripple that can’t stand to defend his name, identity future, and honour 
Arike:

Surely Akanbi the great farmer is alive to feed his mother.
Father:

Arike your memory amaze me

Akanbi the great farmer son of the land

His bare hands soothes the land 

As he brings her to delivery 

To deliver her of her fruits and tidings 

Out of his abundance 

He feeds the lizards in his house 

His kinsmen  in ivory coast 

He fed for years 

Akanbi  is now a scavenger 

Who waits in line to eat 

Bits and bits from long nosed men 

Akanbi begs in the street 

Depending on biscuits and indomie 

He grovels for food from strangers 

I pity him when I pass by him 

His face distorted by hunger 

Akanbi waits/looks abroad and not below 

For his satisfaction 
Arike:

What a tragedy the death of living sons Baami Segilola nko? I know a daughter will never forsake her mother 
Father:

Segilola eleyinjuege

The great jewel

Pride of her mother 

Fear of all wives

The groaning in men’s groin 

Lusted after by white men 

Segilola sold her pride for fashion 

Her royal beads for dollars 

Her beauty for sophistication

Her culture for civilization 
Arike:

Indeed Itan has lost so much . A great mother abiyamo ni 
Father:

Where did you see Itan was it on your way to the stream ?

 

Arike:

Baami it was not on my way to the stream nor on my way to the farm. 

I saw her in the wrinkles on Iya agba’s face 

I saw her beneath the dark soil Upon which she was once celebrated 

In the ancient tattoo on maami’s hand 

In your tribal marks 
Father:

Such is the life of history Itan 

Who cries and weeps

For her past conquests and victories. 
Such is  the plight of Nigeria a great mother with glorious children. 
Her Oduduwa Akanbi Segilola are no more .
Listen again as she wails 
How old is Nigeria, dimeji?
TEARS OF HISTORY 

by Adediran Adetutu. 
P .S 

A  Thought provoking poem of our past. A past that can fuel our present and lighten our dim future.

Don’t give up on Nigeria, it can still be a better place for us if you are ready to work and trust (in God).  
Comment : this is a wonderful poem written by my friend Adediran Adetutu, it’s a poem that takes us to the past and still keep us abreast with the present matters on ground. I hope we are encouraged by this?  

Enough of inaction, our little positive actions have a way of bringing Nigeria to the place it should be. 
May God bless Nigeria and take us to the right place he has prepared for us. 

Amen
Happy Independence Day friends. 
God bless you real good.