League Day 13, Round 2 – LOW18


Welcome to the second round of league Day 13.

League Of Wordsmiths is an initiative of Whyke Anthology which began last year. Serving as a means of promoting poetry, story writing…and art as a whole, across Africa, whilst also serving as an aid for young, budding, aspiring…writers in the African diaspora.

This round is for the poetry category and would see Adebowale Kolawole, Adeyemi Tunmise, and Oni Tomiwa slugging things out for the prize.

Theme For This Round is: Goodbyes, Good Byes.


1) Judges Decision takes 80% of the total decision, while votes recorded from voters takes 20% of the total decision.

2) Under no circumstance should you guess the owner of the individual stories.

3) Voting lasts for 24hours.

4) Only Votes recorded in the comment section of this post remains valid.

5) Vote using “I Vote poem 1”, or “I Vote poem 2” or “I Vote poem 3”…

6) A voter is allowed to vote maximum of 2 poems out of the 4 contesting poems.

7) The contestants are urged to invite friends to vote for them. No rule exempts you from canvassing for votes.

Let The Game Begin!… May the best story win.

Poem 1
Salute to the Dead

Goodbyes are not Good byes
I’m not the sand in my grave
Good byes are not Goodbyes
I’m not the earthworm enclave

I’m the cry of a toddler and the song of a widow
I’m the tears of the brokenhearted
And the hooting of the night.

When my scroll is call up yonder
And my clarion has call me to sleep
Please, do not weep
Don’t tell me a Goodbye.
But tell me a Good bye — where no melancholic rhythm lies
Ney, neither in falcon and forlorn flow
Sing no beautiful dirge— or doleful woe
For cold tears doth melt my heart for whys..—
Why the byes of the Good byes are good
Why the byes of the Goodbyes are brood.
Remember, my casket is just a casket
And In the voice of a deafening silence—
My words dwell.

To the passengers of the road-
Greet the inhabitants of the home
To the sons and daughters of the farmland vegetation
Greet the evening coos and dooms
Eat not millipede nor dust.
For in it my soul rust.

I’m the voice of the dead
Wailing for the byes that’s good—
An holy and only the true memorial food.

Poem 2

Goodbyes, Good byes.

Do not weep when
You wake up in the morning
And hear that I’ m gone.
Save your tears for yourself,
Save it for your children.
Better still,you could
Bank it till
We meet at the feet
Of the Lord
And that’s if we ever
Get to meet.

When I’m gone,
You’ll remember the last
Time you saw me
And how I held you
Tighter than usual.
Then you blame yourself
For being so insensitive
To my body languages
For help.
It is then you realize
I clung to you to see
If I could find the least
Reason to hold on_
To see if I could
Plunge myself into you.
Unfortunately, your body
Was no home.

You will recall how
I looked deep into your eyes,
But you were too blind
To see the tears swimming
In my eyeballs.
You didn’t even care
Enough to see my
Electric shivers
Even when the
Sun smiled so bright.

When I’m gone,
You will scroll through my pictures
And see that my every
Smile was a mask to hide
The agony devouring
My soul
And pains flaming me up.
You jolt at the realization
That my smile was just
My way of telling the world
‘Please save me,I am dying’.
You study my eyes with tears,
Only then,you will observe
My silent pleas for help.
But by then,I will be gone.

When I’m gone,
You will reminisce on how
I brought out the best
And beast in you.
You will wish to hold
Me in your arms
But then I will just
Be a shadow
You see in every cast line
On the wall.
You’ll wish to hear the
Loud pearls of my laughter
And wish my troubles
Than ever before.

Put it in mind that
A time will come
When the cackles of
My laughter shall
Become embedded
In the thumping
Of rains on the roof
And I shall be asked to rest
In the bosom of the lord
When all I wished were
Your bosoms.
A day will come
When my fireplace
Shall lie cold
And my bed bereft
Of my body.
Only then,will you notice
The dried streaks of tears
I shed every night
On my pillow.

I will one day be
Engraved in history,
A repressed memory in
The busy minds of people.
And that’s if I own a place.
I live and breathe
With this fact.
More so,when I’m gone
You’ll wish I was still writing all this
But you will never see
Me hold a pen again

I run farther in
Search of home,
But home now happens to
Be in the heavens.
I draw nearer to this home
With knowledge that I
Will one day heed
The clarion call
But surprisingly I have no fear
Because your houses were never home.

When I’m gone,
You will read my last
Poems and posts.
It is then you get stung
For you won’t see any ink
But only blood flowing
On its pages.
Then you realize
That for every poem I write,
I bleed profusely.
And for every deep
You ever gave me,
I sank deeper into
The pool.

When I’m gone, you will wish
You were there for me
And cry when you
Hear my name.
You will know all I
Ever wanted was a hand
To hold.
All I ever wanted
Was to feel loved.
All I ever craved for
Was a warm embrace
And words of encouragement.
But you failed to give me any.
And the only thing
You will have left
Are faded memories of me.
When I’m gone
Save your tears!!!

Poem 3
Goodbyes, good byes

I sit daily, counting the
Names of those who left—
Dusting off those sad goodbyes.

Like short lived desires
Of an epileptic,
Some goodbyes are
In recurrent seizures.
They are just like chaff, like hay—
Meant for the fireplace.

Some, you see are
Subtle reminders
Of how lonely we came
And how lonely we’ll leave,
Bitter goodbyes.
Those of death,
Those of lovers kisses
Frozen in the wild.

Yet some good byes come
From the womb of the wind
Painting the last hue
Of relief on a wearied heart.
And of those good byes,
I have had no part.

1 Comment
  1. Abosede says

    I vote poem 3

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