MARIAM ALAYANDE

’T is my eyes, The darkness envelops, A secret sealed in the loop A life; to not endure, A lover’s safety; to ensure, O’world, Give unto me thy sacred possession, And watch as I soar in elation, A tiring labour, Sitting and whispering to the birds at this harbor, Seeking time to find a dime To re-create this storyline, An abode with a stone-coated metal roofing and a steel door, With a fire place and wooden floors, One filled to the brim with happiness, And cushioned with loveliness. I pray thee; sleep not, The tumultuous bang you heareth, Is the wind being defiant, For the shadows from the harbor lingers, Finding moulded walls of your heart to finger, A bullet hole and a soft bone, An open space to burrow, The end story of a dynasty, Or the dangers of a fantasy. ______________________________________________________________________ THANK YOU FOR READING.  PLEASE DO NOT FORGET TO SHARE, SUBSCRIBE A...

         Silence, serenity, peace, death, love, family, friendship- one giant globe yet the darkness fills the bosom of the light, blinding us from everything we can see and what we can feel.     Jaiye was never the quiet one, but rather energetic and extroverted. He made whichever room he entered shake from the foundation to the roof, igniting the stars all around the room and immersing the air in pure beautiful energy. His smile- radiant and his voice- seductive.       Jaiye and I had been together for 6months, yet I knew more about my 3 puppies than I did about him. I assumed he was one to take his time to come out of his shell, but was I wrong? I caught glimpses of his sore eyes as he jumped around telling us in his ecstatic voice, ‘Jaiye means ‘enjoy life’, and that’s exactly what I do!’        Sometimes, I felt his cold heart reach out to me but he said I was wrong, he used the same line eve...

        The world we live in is  ugly,  before you disagree, I ask that you think outside of yourself .   From the denial of freedom to the bullets coated in snow, making poker dots on men coated in charcoal, toddlers and teenagers wearing bullet-proof jackets as their school uniforms. From the moment the nurturers and backbone of human race refused to kiss the boots of the nurtured; a sword in each hand, a refusal to be silenced by the wolves that hunt their packs; to the drowning in blood of the statue painted with wealth and peace . Our silence is not valuable as we watch this  inhumane catastrophic invasion  of souls. Yet, when we close our eyes at night, and the mosquitoes buzzing in our ears send us into a cycle of self-torture, a reminder of the pain you try so hard to ignore and a protest by the mosquitoes trying to transmit the reminder to your synapses.     Rape   is an atrocity co...

When I think of her, Specks of gold glitters fill the air, My cones and rods are activated, The Cuckoos croons our favorite song. My lips form a smile as my face lights up, The world becomes a bed of rainbows, Red: the colour of love that pumps through my veins, Orange: the instigator of ecstasy, Yellow: the pebbles of trust, Green: the boiling-cold ocean of passion, Blue: the compatibility of souls, Indigo: the poisonous over-thinker, Violet: the whisperer of kindness, Her voice- my lullaby. What is this feeling? In this chateau, Built with bricks of patience, This emotion is an alien, The silk curtains; embedded with kindness, The gate is a pride repellant, Selfishness has been warded off, Anger is three kilometers away from here, Judgement is behind the wall to the north. My heart- now a jar of honey, Wrapped neatly with a bow of joy, The alien is the one who hath no counterpart, The curtains are drawn, The alien;...

        The rain roars from yards away as her sweet, cold and wet scent engulfs my nostrils. The bird flock hastily migrate, never have I seen such freedom in this world, the wings flapping as I calculate the tangents and angles of their flight- true freedom.     You can hear it now, the rain approaches, coming fiercely from the east. The downpour begins right before me, taking me involuntarily to the night before. I want to escape just like the birds did before the rain but his hands held me hostage.      I screamed like the rain but his hands struck like lightening. I wailed louder than the thunder but no one heard me.      The rain isn’t strong enough to wash my pain away, for my tears compete with the downpour. 'Wash me clean!' I begged as I stepped into the rain. 'Wash his hands away from my soul, cut his prominence away from my altar.' ‘Fix me’ I prayed.     The rain tried but she co...

'Watch what you wish for.' The wise ones say. Crave the truth, Don't make a wish, A warrior's battle, One between the forces of truth and secrets. Tears; the foundation of pain, The truth; the fountain cleaner, The truth is a bitter leaf, A sour, sour, mess. Bloody truth- karma's channel, The truth is generations away, A payback for an ancestral sin, A fair exchange? A sincere revenge? They could have been spared, But the curious ones can't be saved, Not without a leash, Back to the fountain, Embodying a century of pain, A foreign burden. The bricklayer arrives, The fountain uprooted from her bosom, A castle to replace her, No century's burden can enter this castle, Nothing but only what the bricklayer's love permits, A haven. ______________________________________________________________________________________ THANK YOU FOR READING. WRITTEN BY: MARIAM ALAYANDE PHOTO BY: UNKNOWN

    Drowning again, in the cold waters of sadness and disinterest, sleep is an alien, irrelevance is the order of the day. ‘It’s not depression.’ She tells herself.  ‘It’s only a slight change in my mood, maybe I’ve been stressed lately.’     The friends that call and get no response, the one hundred and fifty unread messages on her WhatsApp excluding group messages is nothing but neglect. Her desire to sleep all day and do nothing is a sign of pseudopregnancy. Her walking-dead persona at work is only temporary. Isn't it?      'I'm just exhausted.' She concludes. How tired is she? For she holds the blue knife to her wrist again. It’s not the first time, neither is it the seventh time.  ‘Do it!’ The little voice whispers again as hot-cold tears runs down her cheek. ‘Don’t do it!’ Another little voice whispers. She doesn’t want to feel anything, not anymore. Why continue this emotionless transaction with life?  ‘...