Yearning allayed
By fond memories of
Morning cuddles
And forehead kisses
Fluffy pancakes
Made of love and fondness

Playful tickles
And lusty bearhugs
From-the-back embraces
And prankish smacks on your curvy derrière

Oh! how I miss you

Copyright ©April 5, 2022. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.



Ghostly vagrants
Swaying across the busy streets –
Vibing a mysterious urgency,
Cruising along for a bit:
Then suddenly flying a vertical trajectory
As cars speed by.

Like abandoned memories
From past excursions
Left to litter –
Some old and ragged;
Others newer from a recent unlawful riddance.
Strewn all over and ubiquitous:
Testaments of a noisome custom.

Mocking the rush of the bustling denizens
(Desperate to get home
And shelter from the impending storm);
Buffeted by billowing winds and sandy gusts
While monstrous dust clouds rise from the distance

As cycles, pedestrians and vehicles
Compete for passage under looming clouds
Bulging with imminent rain,
Feisty raindrops hammer
The windscreen (just earlier sprinkled
With a coat of sand)
Forming a rusty smear as the wipers
Hustle for a lucent view.

It’s welcome weather
Though eerie:
Bright day darkens within moments
Chilled by overcast skies
And hustling winds that draw squeaks and groans
From embattled roofs.

Urgency is defeated
As the storm breaks out.

Copyright ©June 5, 2021. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.


First I saw him,
He was a small
Gangly boy, with a weak frame,
Fair complexion, and fine looks –
Seven years ago.

I’ve seen him grow
(Like in a time lapse)
From then till now.

He was the bearer of tools
And runner of errands;
The one everyone else sent
To do this and do that;
Or bring this or that –

To find the size fourteen spanner,
Or the oversized monkey wrench;
To carry the jack or a wedge
(Quite heavy for his age).

Today he’s transformed:
A pimply adolescent
With a slender frame and burgeoning muscles.
Daily becoming a man of his own –
Troubleshooting and being right,
Having garnered experience over many
Long, sweaty and tedious hours
Toiling in sweltering heat
Under this tropical sun.

His name is Abu.

Copyright ©January 23, 2021. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.


Reclined and sweaty
While catching your breath –
Back to the stairs;
And breathless bosom

A striking pose
On your flat’s front steps, while
Winding down from your brisk accustomed jog.

Skin glowing – suffused
By the brilliant radiance
Of Summer’s morning sun – and
Cooling by degrees with each calming breath.

Eyes shielded, and closed
Behind stylish sunglasses
Prospectively, peering inwards –
Scanning your memories and expectations.

Such quietude! oozing poise
And confidence;
And overall good health!

Copyright ©June 16, 2020. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.


Your last words
Seemed laiden with a finality
(You did what you had to do):
I’ll never contact you.

Yet therein, also, was
Transmitted sheer ambivalence
And blatant contradiction.

Your short message
Was packed with fiery words:
Not mad,

Don’t try to reach me,
Was the end.

And a feeling of love lost.

Copyright ©December 11, 2020. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.


but the words don’t come.

but the thoughts just stray.

But the ink won’t flow.

The skill stays strong.

Copyright ©November 29, 2020. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.


Been me
Against me

Deep within where
Dreams are born
But die
When faith
And hope are lost

Beaten down but
Still rising to kneel before
The Father

Hope shines forth
Help is assured
There’s no backing down now


Copyright ©August 3, 2020. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.


The plastic cadence of the laptop
Keys as I clicked away exuded elegance
And a hypnotic rhythm against the quotidian din
Of the bustling ward:
Crying children, and muted conversations,
Purring equipment and whooshing ceiling fans.

I was businesslike and urgent
Keeping pace with the attending’s dictations
Typing faster than I could ever write
Hurtling closer to the workday’s end.

It had been tedious from morning:
We’d barely conquered the busy clinic in record time
And now we tackled the ward rounds
With brainstorms, standing at the bedsides.

The team had tired –
Fatigue had crept upon us;
And the delicate computer clicks
Altogether sounded so much like sighs!


Copyright ©May 27, 2020. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.

Unintended Muse

She’s pretty
That’s a given
Of course, she
Knows she’s pretty
But how pretty
I’m not sure she

So fine
Her twin dimples
Break forth in smiles
Her sculpted cheeks
So appealing and cute

Her obvious youth
A refreshing sensation

Yet elegant

Her full, black
Hair, rich without perms
Combed straight
And made up in a bun

Overall classy
In her electric blue dress


Copyright ©April 23, 2019. Elo Igboeli. All Rights Reserved.