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What’s My Superpower?

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What’s my super power;
pray, do tell?
Let me look under the bed
I bet I’ll find the answer there

I could fly if I try
how wonderful that sounds
for sure I’ll fall through the sky
and make a huge splat.

I could disappear and reappear
which surely sounds supper
for sure my trundling tiptoe
would leave a shadowy trail

I could do many imaginary things
become a Power-Puff mama
Alas! these belong in Disney World
where make believe works like magic

I do a lot of simple things
my children say I’m the best mother ever
I believe them and like the title
Supermom

I smile a lot, laugh heartily and can cheer you up
my listening ears available
with sage counsel, if you wish
that could do some good

I could whip up a good story
and make a decent companion
even play a ditty
though my voice barely carries a tune

I could make a list
of this and of that
but it would take forever
to write them all out

What’s my super power;
pray, do tell?
I believe that it’s by being me
a full ocean of humanness in one drop of a human.

So, what’s your Superpower?

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

A ditty played on my keyboard

Tra la la, twiddle dee dee, it gives me a thrill

to wake up in the morning to the mockingbird hill

Tra la la, twiddle dee dee, there’s health and goodwill

you’re welcome as the flowers on the mockingbird hill

when the Sun in the morning peeps over the hill

and kisses the roses around my windowsill

then my heart fills with gladness when I hear the thrill

of the birds on the tree tops of the mockingbird hill.

Discover Challenge – Superpower

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Hide and Seek, Here and Now…

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Here and now, as I sit on the parks bench soaking up the air,
watching the children play hide and seek with Griffin,
the darling old dog of a good neighbour.
Griffin is 14 years old, that’s really old in dog years;
he’s no longer fast and pants quite heavily,
but he still loves a good rub and enjoys playing hide and seek,
as he trudges slowly on his Cocker-Spaniel legs.

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Here and now a bazillion thoughts race through my mind
like flitting fireflies, resting on this and floating to that,
I craft plans with paper and pen;
some thoughts etched in ink,
and some are left to the mind.
…make sandwich of tuna and eggs on a bed of lettuce,
…call mother and enjoy a good laugh with baby sister;
…go with the boys to get a haircut later,
…write a post to publish before I go (this is the post);
…tinker with a few widgets on my upcoming blog.

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Here and now, I feel at ease yet restless…
I have learnt to live day by day and enjoy the moments,
though sometimes my imagination drifts beyond the present.
I try not to query the future for it’s not guaranteed to anyone.
I have learnt that all I truly have is here and now,
and I must make the best of it as much as I can.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Here and Now – Discover Challenge


out-of-the-silent-breath 2

The numbers…

Door[1]

The words Jen read startled her. The spidery handwriting indicated that the writer had struggled while writing.

“If you are reading this letter, thank you for finding me. It means that my time here is over and I am sorry that you are unfortunately saddled with the responsibility of laying me to rest. The money inside the envelope is some money set aside for my cremation. I don’t want to be buried in a box for I have lived buried for far too long inside one and would like my ashes to be scattered across the Seas so that it can float free. I loved the sea as a young girl.”

She wasn’t sure if she should simply put the letter back as she found it – back in the envelope marked ‘URGENT PLEASE READ’ and propped on the empty vase on the dust covered table. She could go away with the pie she had brought along and no one would know that she had visited, but her curious interest had been thoroughly aroused.

Everything about the little house down the cul-de-sac was intriguing. A pair of nondescript eyes in glasses always stared out of the window when she took her brisk jog in the evenings, until a week ago when she stopped seeing or feeling the eyes; the bold numbers on the intricately designed door were unusual since no other house in the area had such numbers and none of the neighbours she interacted with since her move to the neighbourhood knew anything about the person living behind the door.

Decision and justification made, she baked and went visiting. She reasoned that it was the neighbourly thing to do. To fraternize with those living close to you a little bit, especially if you are going to be living there permanently.

Her gentle rap on the door found it slightly ajar and she stepped in cautiously, repeatedly saying hello, to no response.

Jen’s eyes quickly took in the sparse furnishing, an implacable, unpleasant odour hitting her nostrils and sending alarm bells to her senses that something wasn’t right and to get away fast, but her piqued mind sent her walking down the short passage which led to the rooms.

The design of the bungalow was familiar since it’s shaped like hers but both houses were sharply different. Where her’s wore a cheerful, homey and inviting look, the atmosphere of this one was forlorn and tired. The drapes were worn with age, the wallpaper lifting at the corners, the dirty rug gave off a musty smell that mingled with the other smell that only grew stronger with each step.

A body laid on the bed in the second room as though in deep, peaceful sleep but the pungent smell of death belied it’s appearance. Rushing out of the house into the street for fresh air, Jen dialed the police.

Providing all the information that she could muster when they arrived, she watched with saddened interest as the men from EMS respectfully wrapped the frail body of an old lady in a body bag. Spying the numbers that was crudely branded on the inner part of her left arm which was so thin that her skin was almost translucent, Jen recognized that the numbers on the arm matched the numbers on the door.

What did it they represent? Who is the lady? What was her story? These questions raced through her thoughts and she wished she had followed her prying mind to seek the eye’s in the window earlier.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The story behind the door. Discover challenge


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

‘A Richly Layered and Passionate Read.’ Jan Cliff

Out of the silent breath

 

 

It’s all in my mind…

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Each day in my life is an adventure and that’s how I truly see it. I don’t have to climb Everest or Himalayas to experience the exhilaration that I get from a roaming mind.

I find out that one could get to Macchu Picchu and still feel empty when their mind is not in it or open enough to absorb the beauty of the experience. A once in a lifetime travel experience with a cantankerous friend who found fault in everything around her is one that I’m not in a haste to repeat.

Reading a highly stimulating book is the beginning of an adventure for me. Connecting with fantastic bloggers is an enriching adventure. Writing is an adventurous medium for me.

Ditching my car and taking a bus or train ride around town is an adventure that allows me to roam about parts of town that I would probably not pay attention to if I’m driving. I always end up chatting with total strangers and coming away feeling as if I just received a present.

In my younger days, I thought that to have an adventure only meant going away on an exotic trip, but having had the opportunity to travel quite a bit, I must admit that adventure starts with giving one’s mind the freedom to expand in scope, to appreciate the beauty and culture that surrounds you and to let your imagination magnify in multi-dimensions.

I realised that years long before now when I rode the jam-packed, rusty buses in Lagos with passengers practically seated on each other’s laps I was having an adventure and even now at UAE Exchange, as I listen to the conductor announce the various train stops, I watch wide-eyed as people from all walks of life step off the platform into the train and grab the overhead hanging strap before the train trundles along.

Saying hello to the tall lady beside me, I learn that she’s Irish. She’s on vacation and was just coming from Indonesia.

Adventure, Discover challenge

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Out of the silent breath

Dead and gone! Long live chivalry…

 

To my younger unassuming self
I have no apologies to tender for my past mistakes.

Maybe I could have done things differently if I had been wiser
maybe I would have been able to escape

a couple of raps from Life’s school of hard knocks
but looking back right now,
could I’ve been better, I’m quite doubtful?

For we are only as wise as we know
Could things have gone differently?

Maybe, who knows. It no longer matters. What matters is now.
For life happens and all that happened

did when I was busy making other plans.
Now to you, dear older me, get on with it while you can
and squeeze the last droplet of juice out of those lemons!

Your World and mine would probably be a much better place when people are more empathetic and apologetic for their mistakes.

An apology is a balm offered to soothe agitated nerves and calms ruffled feathers, yet these three simple words of remorse “I am sorry” can be so difficult for some humans to express.

Their belief is that tendering an apology is a sign of weakness, whereas the reverse is the case.

To apologise shows maturity and the ability to take ownership and responsibility.

It doesn’t strip the peace-keeper of his over-sized sense of ego, nor will it cause any drastic changes in his physical anatomy; tongue-in-cheek.

Note that I use ‘his’ in this instance. My apologies to the menfolk, but experience and history has shown that most men are slow to accept their faults, to apologize and diffuse tension. The chauvinistic drive in a good number of them can be incredulous.

They are more bent on arguing blindly just to hear themselves and to flex their muscles. Indeed, many disastrous incidents have happened due to mule-headedness and oversized egos.

That’s not to say that there are no stubborn females out there, but I dare say that the ratio is far less than the opposite sex.

To apologize comes very easily to a lot of women I know. For the benefit of doubt, I’m not a feminist in that sense of the word of let’s burn our bras and chuck out the sizzling red hot high heels; I really like my red heels and to me, being strongly feminine, is being comfortable in the skin and gender that nature gave me, without being objectified as a sex object.

I don’t believe in sweating the small stuff and bearing unnecessary grudges. This weighs down the burden bearer and as far as I’m concerned, I have enough to carry on my shoulders without adding the extra guilt of not saying and meaning these three words “I am sorry,” to that woman whose toes I might have crushed in the crowd or the one whose backside I ran into with a shopping cart, when I turned the shopping aisle into my driveway.

Nope! The young man who wanted to reshape my African backside never said sorry.

He just merrily continued his one-hand drive of his trolley and scrolling down his phone after a mere cursory glance in my direction.

Chivalry has become extinct as we speak. Long live chivalry.

Apology, Discover Challenge.


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Out of the silent breath

Expose my heart

that I may understand your words

through every conscious,

awakened pore of each moment.

**

*an excerpt from my poem*

Stumbling Forward…personal

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Obstacles. No single existence is devoid of hurdles to jump as they journey through their path in life and these encompasses all living things. The strength of a plant is predetermined from the state of its seed, thus even before we make our grand entry into this World, we possibly started our struggles right from the womb that bore us.

These hurdles come in different forms and in various shapes and sizes. Some knock us so hard on our backside, flat on our faces or at the cusp of a precipice where we are left grasping for release from the clenching holds that threatens to suffocate us to death.

Every human enjoys having a good sense of well-being and in the midst of these trials, a human can literally clutch at straws in the bid to stand upright. They either turn to the bottle, drugs or the Lord, seeking for strength.

Severe depression and suicide are the end result of a life that finds no glimmer of hope at the end of the turbulence that they are passing through. At that point in time, it seems as if the demons that they battle overwhelms and the only way to end the torment would be to stop living.

I have been in very deep pits. I have battled mental health, mental torture, and depression. There have been points in my life where the misery that permeated every pore of me was a living, breathing pain.

One of the instances, I would briefly share for now is when I lost my pre-term child. Please believe me when I say that the pain is beyond words. I carried this beautiful being inside me, but for some reason that I don’t know, I left the hospital after hours of horrendous labour with empty hands.

Fortunately, I have no head for drinks, no penny for drugs and never felt suicidal. I clung to the Cross and to writing. With every fibre in me, I held on and my husband held me.

God, family, friends, books and writing, have been my greatest support. When I am crossing one of my many rivers, I look up above, I look around me and I look forward. Life is a constant battlefield in our minds and except we personally buffer ourselves and wage an onslaught to find peace, we remain subjugated by these trials.

What I have learnt over the years is not to wait for the boat to get rocked, but to be mentally prepared to steer the boat as it rocks, so that I don’t capsize.

A couple of books that helped me when I struggled through these obstacles are, The battlefield of the mind, Your best life begins each morning, Purpose driven life, Women Of Faith Bible and lots more.

Writing my own books has been a challenge of doubt, of wondering if I am good enough. Of constantly questioning myself about who would want to be bothered to read my words when there are billions of books out there, but you know what, I said to myself, Jacqueline, you may not get it right, you may not be the best out there, but my girl, you are definitely more than good enough.

So that’s another hurdle jumped. Publishing my first poetry book is a positive affirmation that indeed, I might stumble in my quest but instead of the obstacles making me fall behind, they will cause me to stumble forward and give me some fulfilment.

Buying my book will go a long way to support me and clicking to purchase from any of those links will possibly earn me a commission of a few cents, but this is yet another curve in my journey. Finding ways to break through the obstacle and earn from the sweat of my brow.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Obstacles, The Discover Challenge