you're okay.

Firstly, I'll start with you,
Cos I know no other as a place,
You're not that angel for everyone,
Yet you fly so high in my mind,
In my head you stroll like a shock,
And cause nothing but some joy.

For what I see, I'd like to start,
Ask who made your face and I'll say first,
He read my mind and made my choice,
He never failed my eyes to see still,
My heart to feel and my mouth to speak,
You're a beauty, beautifully made.

For what you can't see l'd go thus,
On the eyes that caught me staring,
On that beautiful spot on your cheek,
Dimples like two glasses for us,
Filled with spilling attractions that caught me,
That yet I stayed seeing the fire exit.

Who can I just call you?
Someone I met or someone in me, better,
No joy could better our moments,
No song can linger than your laughter,
No echo better sounds interesting,
And no one's better for this path,
But you… you're okay.

Goodbye My Love

Days run,
weeks walk,
months crawl and years wait.
As memories draw their last breath.

Time was our best gift,
love was the dearest lift,
but we lost feet,
and we can't fit,
then we found pit.

Ordinary people we were,
in same world,
different words,
running to one wand,
to give dis world the greatest magic.
Love.

If hearts'll ever be true,
find just a day to be guilty,
who could be,
the beauty?
Or the tamed beast?
But somethings will never be,
like the thing we didn't say.


We didn't say goodbye,
but said apologies,
for dreams killed,
for the unborn children,
for the unacted scenes,
unwritten stories,
and hugs that never gave warmt.
Even the kisses blown waste...

Goodbye my love...

what wouldyou say

Everyday d sun says to d moon "hey friend, i'll see uat d end of ur shift" imagine d stars watching always and neva get bored.
But when a man says such, something might make him lie.
He's just a man, not perfect like d celestials

My love

My love! is this name enough?
My precious! did i get to it?
Peharps not sweet names,
but a kiss placed so well,
and face withdrawn with a smile.
...
You've gone through days,
the rough and smooth paths,
all in the yesterdays of your past ages.
You fell gently like water falls,
creating beauty, yet no pain!

Just like what i call you,
sweetheart!
Yori yori would never be close to it,
cos you made me feel better.

You are what we have,
a SISTER!
You are what we once had,
a MOTHER!
Like your name, you were a BLESSING,
One that I'm so stingy to share,
one that i love to love!
And one that God will keep.

The journey of age hasn't ended,
instead you stopped to refuel BLESSINGS,
like David said didnt know he was telling you,
GOODNESS AND MERCY SHALL FOLLOW YOU,
ALL THE DAYS OF YOUR LIFE,
YOU'LL DWELL IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD,
FOR EVER AND EVER.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

RHYME WITHIN MY TIME

to every time i did what i should,
to every wish i made when i could,
i find d world rolling against my wound,
...maybe i'm normal or off d truth,
till i repent and be who i should.

gaze around with eyes behind my head,
i searched the truth behind ahead!
Like needle and thread, i often felt.
A bit of me was lost but when?

For a moment i scrolled through my life,
all the paths clocks passed through my time,
i wished each tick! Meant a dime,
i would be a millionair in my time.

To every time i did what i should,
gaze around with eyes behind my head,
for a moment i scrolled through my life,
it was a rhyme within my time!

Hello Me

I wish d world could start a better way,
then I would start a better way,
but now u have d best a heart you know could do.

...Dear HARDY,
any other way to your heart,
maybe sweet HARDY,
u shine like d sun,
strike like d thunder,
oh you struck me again!
I'm in love!! Ah!!

My Rose My HARDY,
i wish u knew the roses,
they're fine just like u,
with same whisper like yours.
Roses alway have a sweet thing to say,
but never better than you,
"i love you"
"i miss u"
"i'm sory my love..."
roses could say more...
But never like you...

If i be the world a day,
I'll find u,
take u to d place in your wish.
If i steal d world a day,
I'll paint your name every where.
If I rule d world a day,
i'd rather be ur Queen.

Hello HARDY,
My HARDY,
Dear HARDY,
Sweet HARDY,
My Rose,
My love.
I love you!

It's all ahead

When ever i try, it's like something cries, in a silent and lonely night. I hear the voice, i dance the echoe, i climb my thoughts, just to see what i've become, it was wet, cos i was tearing.


Nothing's as far as next step, distance stretched by fear, in me that i can't find me, in us i can't read me and in you, meanings couldn't speak.

Thank's to the mirror, i'm still here, hopes in my head, i'll get there. Journey of hope upon hope, with so much time said good bye.

When ever i try, something cries, nothing's as far as next step, thanks to the mirror i'm still here. Hope to the people, we'll get there...

Hardy. Dedicated to all who have lost hope especially in a country like Nigeria

The unknown writers

Writing has been and will keep being more than picking up a pen and a sheet of paper to put down words, or punching the keys on the keyboard of a computer to put down words.
How ever, it involves talent, which everyone is not privilaged to have. Since the shop next to our house can fetch us a ball pen and a big note book for what ever we want to write, that online store can still fetch you a computer if you prefer it to pen and paper. but what will fetch you the talent to write?
I'm still waiting...!
Talents are being wasted today more than ink and paper, and we all sit and nothing is done. Just like i once thought, we were all created with two hands and two legs, meaning to every man, there are four things to be moved. How many have you moved? Some people only use their right hand, others depend on their left. For all these people, each is leaving three things undone and would it be a crime if another man tries to move and extra thing or even two or more? Okay that was by the way.
Now for the unknown writers, their works are every where, they are not known untill they're recognized by one coincidence or luck, what ever. Frustration for them to leave their works with publishers because of price, while some others have lost right to their work for a pea nut, with the hope that the next will be a hit.
Unknown writers are the vendors of hope, frustration and above all faith. But for those that exploit them, is this really business or crime. The unknown writer does not have a voice, but this could be his plea.