Ebube's World

 Celebrating Men's mental health month  I present to us "Boys cry silently" it's a poem that sheds light on a truth that often goes unspoken - that many men and boys carry emotional pains quietly just to appear as the society wants, that's to appear strong or unbothered. This poem reflect the inner battles many face that are never express. It encourages healing. It's a reminder that vulnerability isn't weakness and not limited to a particular gender." BOYS CRY SILENTLY From afar,   I watched   As he was scolded—   "Why cry?   Men don't cry." Was it a lie?   The men around never shed tears.   Crying was weakness,   A shame to be feared. You learn from watching.   So they hide the pain,   The weight of regret,   The sting of mistakes—   They won’t let you see that. He was trained not to cry.   So as a boy, when hit,   He struck back with fists....

 Poem title:" Nigeria, We Hail Thee..." People's Opposition © Ebube " Nigeria , we hail thee,   Our own dear native land .   Though tribes and tongues may differ,   In brotherhood, we stand.   Nigerians all are proud to serve   Our sovereign Motherland".   Maybe at one time or another,   This was something I said with admiration in my heart.   But alas, I doubt my fellow kinsmen would say the same today.   I would love to say the system hurt me—   Or perhaps, those in charge of it.   By midnight, the king was crowned.   By daylight, it felt like mourning—   A silence heavy and loud,   A national mourning was never this deafening.   And yet again,   It's time to return to the system,   Hoping it gets it right.   But those behind the wheel   Do not plan to play nice—   Thus, neither ...

Lagos is a story of various tales. Tales of wars and rumors of war,   Of victories won and defeats endured.   From OKO, once the land of husbands and farms,   To EKO, now the city that never sleeps —   A place where dreams rise with the sun   And sweat builds legacies in the sand. Tale of strength and patriotism,   Tale of battles fought with conviction.   From times long before From Eshugbayi Eleko’s royal resistance,   To Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti’s fearless voice,   A lineage of defiance against injustice.   Tales etched in courage,   Now woven with beauty and entertainment Eko rising, ever vibrant. A city with dirts as flower beds,   With stares icy enough to rip your dress off, With fear enough to make you missing . "All roads lead to Rome " Must have been speaking of Lagos.  As far and near the flashlight of parties draws all to her. Her vibrant nightlife defea...

"Africa, my Africa, Africa of proud warriors in the ancestral savannah, Africa of which my grandmother sings On the banks of ancient rivers." That's history past— Lest I forget, My grandmother no longer sings. Tales of great African warriors like Shaka the Zulu, Ignites my spirit  Tales of ancient civilizations like Egypt, Whose pharaohs were likened to gods, Keep the fire of African passion burning. Alas, the Africa I met Differs slightly from the ivory tower of darkness. Africa of "sit-tight rulers" Hoarding the throne for their sons and grandsons, Who would rather kill the youth than step down when the people complain. I've heard the story of a man sold for 30 pieces of silver, And I said, "At least he had value." I know a man who sold his people, an entire generation, For a position, to maintain relevance. He sold their ability to dream big, And what's worse? He was thinking only of his future. That's the Africa I'm in. Oh, we don’t...

 Valentine The only crime committed was being single. No be say admirers no come— Na them dey rush us! But we stand gallant, Like Agụnẹchemba, Dodging love bombs, Swerving their plans to whine us. Now, Valentine is here, And their revenge is set. Their mock anthem, "Lonely," Is queued on repeat, Their romance, a spectacle For our ever-watchful eyes, Whispering: "It could have been you." But we no shake— A barachaa ọsọ, a gụrụ miles! Results go land by March, And premium tears go flow. Joy fit still dey, But we no go move, 'Cause we’re steady. Happy lovers day  © Ebube

"Hey! You have a beautiful smile," They say. "Thank you," I reply, Scoffing beneath the words. That’s me— The one with the smile Everyone admires. But I know the truth. I wear it like a shadow. It’s just a façade. Reality, that conniving bitch, Knows my secret: I hate myself. And somehow, That hate becomes my reason— A reason to smile at everyone, Even as my insides crumble. So, we struck a deal, The mask and I: It would smile for the world, While I wept in silence. "Stop smiling," I whispered to myself. "You look strange,  Let the mask handle it." And so, This is the story Of my beautiful smile. © Ebube

Little bird, Why are you scrunched up? Why aren't you soaring in the sky? "I'm scared. I may not fly well And fall. I may hurt my legs And be mocked," Said the little bird. Let me fly with you then. Always look up when you feel you're falling, And remember— I'm with you. Dear little bird, Fly, Fly so high in the sky. There’s no limit to what you can achieve, So don’t be scared. Little bird Will someday grow big. © Ebube