A link to my neighbours/Community · Blogging · Humor - Bellyful of laughter · Inspiration - Motivation · The Daily Post

My Dear WordPress….It’s not possible!

quotes about friendship

My Dear WordPress,

If I can recall a not so dim memory in my conversations with you, I remember that we have had this chat before, when you slyly asked me to take a pick of my three favourite blogs out of the wholesome lot of my blog-some friends.

I told you that my eclectic tastes and needs makes variety the spice of my life. That these needs are fed in their itty-bitty parts by each and everyone of my committee of friends and basically, in a day I go visiting at least a 100-200 of my friends, which makes it rather impossible to pick 3 posts out of so many.

Since you can’t quite remember this conversation, let me refresh your mind.

I told you my dear WP ( I hope I can call you that, since we are such bosom buddies) that a lot of my friends fill so many gaping gaps in my life.

They make me howl in glee till tears run down my face.

They plaster smiles on my face and sometimes do make me frown.

A good number of them have clicky fingers and they show me vibrant pictures that leaves me in awe.

Some keep me grounded and in touch with my humanity and yet some make me reflect deeply about life itself.

Some remind me that I should always be grateful for the little things, sharing their tips freely and indeed I am grateful for these friends of mine.

Some fellowship with me and throw more light on my spirituality and some are generous enough  to share their blessings with me.

They have shared their lives, their children and spouses, their pets, their horses and even garter sssnakes at times (now I have the heebie-jeebies just from the ssss word and it’s all your fault).

A good lot of my friends feed my appetite with the flavour bursting, delicious meals that they serve up online  – thank God we can’t add weight from looking at all the pictures.

A staunch number of my wonderful friends encourage and inspire me to spread my wings, to soar and reach for the skies and some even take me on their own wings on expeditions to places that I have never been before.

Some give me cause to pause and share a silent prayer, hoping that all  is well with them and lest I forget, a good number of them weave very delightful tales and write delicate poems.

I do have a raunchy bunch too and the political man as well.

A lot of sage counsel is equally on offer and they’ve got my back as well.

So you see, my crowd is quite a mix, even with music and I really think that maybe you should join us? Need I say more? What do you say?

Maybe, if I send you the list of 719 of them to marinate over, that might help you make a decision, whilst I go and get acquainted with some more.

Finally, don’t forget that saying which goes that ”you should never ask a mother to choose out of all her children, it’s simply not done.” If you are wondering how she can cope with them all, I must highlight to you that she is the multi-breasted one.

My regards to you WP. I have enjoyed having a good natter.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post prompt Press It

Give some love to three blog posts you’ve read and loved in the past week, and tell us why they’re worth reading.

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories

Barnyard Circus…

Bright lights

The circus came to town. Lizzy wished to go, but she knew that was unlikely.

They were poor. Ma couldn’t afford such frivolities as she called it, but Lizzy’s eager heart still yearned.

As she milked Bess her friend, she confided in her.

”Oh Bess, it would be lovely to see those wonderful things that Alice described.”  Bess mooed in understanding. When she was done, she patted Bess, collected eggs from Henrietta and went back to the cottage.

Bess mooed to Henrietta, who clucked to Gertrude the Gander, who quacked to Bucko the goat, who bleated to Gobbles the Turkey, until Hootensia the wise barn owl made a suggestion and they agreed to the plan.

What a wonderful time Lizzy had. Lots of fun stuff to do and bright lights too.

Her animal friends and the fairies dotted on her. They made face paints from flower petals and wove a flower tiara for Lizzy.

When she woke up, she was disappointed that it was a dream, until she saw some petals stuck in her hair and the sprinkle of gold dust on her window ledge.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz code

In response to the FFfAW photo prompt above. Thank you Priceless Joy for this challenge platform.

Hope · Life · The Daily Post · Writing

Friends of my heart…


Growing up in a small university community like I did, had lots of plus sides and that included having lots of childhood friends with whom I played and carried out our escapades until the ever present flow of life’s change caused us to drift apart.

I was lucky to have such childhood friends of my heart who occupy such special place in my memory bank and between these friends and large family, you had no need for an imaginary friend.

Thankfully, I am able to reconnect with a lot of them with the help of social media, while, unfortunately some of them have crossed over to the other side of the divide where the links of social media cannot traverse.

There are some of them I am yet to trace and a number of them come to my mind ever so often.

Dear Chinyelu Okonkwo,

Now and again I think about you and wonder if life is treating you well and where you are.

I haven’t seen you since we were ten and in my minds eye, you have stayed the same ten year old, precocious, vibrant friend of mine.

Naturally you would have aged like everyone else but for some reason, I can’t seem to visualize you beyond this age.

Whenever you come to my mind, I remember our child’s play of running round the school block of University Primary School, Nsukka, during break time and singing silly song’s.

I have searched now and again on social media, to see if I can find you but it hasn’t yet yielded any result.

Who knows maybe one day in this lifetime, if we still walk this side of the divide, we may yet reconnect.

Another childhood friend whom I wonder how she has fared with life is from Bangladesh and I had no idea that the name ‘Anu Misra’ was quite common until I attempted to trace her.

I found so many Anu’s, I have searched so many faces, but I couldn’t recognize any.

Maybe, this splendid exercise might yet yield some positive results. We never know these things.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to The Daily Post prompt Imaginary Friend

Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today? (Didn’t have one? write about a non-imaginary friend you haven’t seen since childhood.)

Family · Life · Musings · Poetry/Poems

Tormented Heart….


In the doldrums lies my Soul;
Cast in the deep shadows of melancholic sadness;
Adrift with the lack of sense of it all;

I remember your fair sparkle;
Your gentle modulated tones of speech;
Your laughter that tinkles like little bells;
and your eyes that dance in merriment.

No preceding warning;
Not anything at all!
You were here;
Now you are gone;

Like a wisp of wind, floating…floating away;
You have sailed away;
Never to be seen again.

Your dancing eyes sleep, dimmed in forever;
Your gentle ways a resounding loss;
Your sense of humanity gone…so gone…

Oh! My Soul grieves at the pain of it all;
For the young ones that you have left behind;
Their shocked bewilderment and despair;
Staggering at the blow that fate just dealt;

My eyes are dry and tear ducts sealed;
I am in open-mouthed disbelief;
Yet, I remind myself of the transience of life;
That it shouldn’t come as a surprise;
That Souls journey often to another realm;

Yet, it does surprise and it hurts;
I am as sore as an angry bear!
Shall I say goodbye?
I have no idea how…….

Best friendJacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Love · Tips for the day

Your home… a little tip for today.

20150707_130623Your real home lies within you.
Not the bricks and mortar house of glamor that you reside in.

All painted and glossy with every top of the range appliance that money can buy.

That my friend, is just your physical abode.

Your real home lies within you,

Yet the home within you is neglected, in shambles and in quandary,

That even a stray pet would not want to live in there,

Take care of the real home that lies within you;

Fill it with good things,

A large portion of love,

A fresh harvest of thanksgiving

A handful of forgiveness,

Some tablespoons of honesty,

A jug of faith,

A dash of loyalty,

An ounce of friendship,

Three tablespoons of tenderness,

A whole shake of patience,

One big barrel of laughter

And a large dose of prayer.

Blend it all together, and bake it in the oven of your heart with a pan of Hope until it is well done.

Serve your guests daily with generous portions,
And your real home will definitely gleam with splendor.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Hope · Love · Musings · Uncategorized

No color for these young ones….


It was a pleasure to sit and watch my youngest and his team mates work together during their field day in school to eventually come out tops in their little unit with several points ahead.

The previous night, he had been sniffling with a touch of cold and like a mother hen, I had fretted that it might get worse and that he may not be able to participate in his field day and he kept asking for my assurance that he would be fine, so that he can support his team to do well. Well, thankfully, mummy the magician did her best, and here we are.

Amongst that cell of small human bodies, I saw excitement, I saw camaraderie, I saw joy, I saw teamwork and cooperation, but with my jaundiced eye as an adult I also saw black, white, olive and everything in between.

A lot of shrieks and squeals were associated with each score or loss, tugs of war were won and lost, a tear or two shone in bright eyes, but above all things I saw love.

winning 2

No dissension of voices did I hear, no untoward discrimination did I perceive nor segregation did I observe amongst these young ones. They all supported each other to achieve common goals. I saw bonding and friendship built possibly to last a life time, who knows?

If only we, the adults will hold our peace and not pollute the minds of these little ones, who in their simple-minded innocence are accepting of each other as equals without differentiation.

I remember back in the days when I was growing up as a young lady in the Eastern region of Nigeria, a community of fiercely traditional but hardworking people, I had dared to deviate from the norm to date a non-black gentleman.

I can still recall the askance attitude of supposedly concerned citizens, the gradual sidelining of some so- called friends who had felt that association with me would automatically taint them, the furore that had been associated with my boldness and the rottenness of my behavior for having the audacity to publicly date a white man and the pretentious support of two-faced friends who helped to stoke the fire of my dare-devil reputation; but in all that, what mattered most to me was how I was treated by whoever I chose to date.

It was more important to me to be cared for and respected by the man I chose to date than to fit into a miserable relationship for political correctness, so as not to rock the boat.

I came to realize that those who sought to mold me into their idea of where I should fit in, did not in any way contribute an iota of positivity to my life, nor was their effort done because they sought my happiness.

I got to understand that most time’s, achieving greatness and living your life to the fullness of its capacity, meant ignoring some naysayers, pushing boundaries and adamantly refusing to fit into the round holes created by the limitations of other people’s expectations and simply remaining a square, but happy peg.

I look back in wry amusement and ask myself if I would I do the same today, assuming the clock was rewound? Oh yes! In a heartbeat! I have not changed much in the broadness of my thinking but have matured enough to cut off any foolishness and distracting noise that drains my energy. I choose to live generously and my generosity starts with me.

Life has taught me that the best people in life are not based on their race or otherwise. They are just humans who seek to give their best, changing the World around them in their own little way positively, one day at a time. They are not occupied in segregating their World in little batches of color for reasons better known by them.

Now for my progeny, I will encourage them to see and treat all men as equals. I will encourage them not to  see in absolute colors or to be color blind, but to look for the fine shades of gray and pastels in between because that is the way the creator chose it to be; the beauty is in the variety.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fiction · Short Stories · Weave that Dream

#The Threesome…..

Heart-shaped-Chocolates-BoxIn shocked disbelief, I stared at the face on the boxed inset on TV. The headline news was making its evening rounds again on the local news channel. They had shown her in the morning, but as I rushed around for my morning engagements, I had glanced with vague interest at the strangely familiar face without recognition; but now, it was all coming back to me.

It was a couple of days to Valentine and I was growing heartsick and overdosed from seeing all the love shaped hearts stuck on store windows, the heart shaped chocolates, the balloons and cakes, the little teddies with their sugary messages, lovers making moon eyes at each other, even all the television channels seemed to be peddling the same syrupy valentine messages. I felt like the loneliest person on planet Earth. I was just getting over a broken passion and part of my therapy was to venture often to the Starbucks cafe tucked inside Barnes and Nobles where I immersed myself in strong cups of coffee, or chocolate brew coupled with decadent slices of double chocolate cup cakes whilst flipping through the pages of a romance where everything always ended with happy forever afters.

That day was nondescript and I couldn’t wait to get to B & N after my shift for my new found dose of romance in the pages of a book. I was starting a raunchy book by Lorelei James and I needed to see if it would be worthwhile buying it. It would serve as my pick me up over the valentine weekend with a nice tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream and my very own box of sinful chocolate eclairs.

coffee and cakeI got to the cafe and to my delight the comfy armchair in the corner was vacant. I quickly established ownership by putting my bag on it before placing my order for a caramel macchiato and cheese cake. I fetched the book, exhaled to let off pent up steam from a busy but uninteresting day and settled down to some sensory delight.

About half an hour later, they walked in. I did not pay much mind to them initially, I just gave a cursory glance. I thought they were passers-by and only took serious notice when they finished their purchase and chose to seat a little distance away, yet in my direct view.

The gentleman was just above average height and would not necessarily be referred to as handsome. He looked quite ordinary with his semi-bald hair, dressed in a black woolly pullover over a deep navy jeans, blue tennis shoes and an ear glinting with a tiny stud earring. Still, he had a well-bred, well put together look, imposing in an unobtrusive way.

His companions, the two ladies were complete opposites. One had raven black shoulder length hair and was quite slim and tall. She was sensibly dressed in a cream top and black pencil skirt, with her glasses perched on her nose. Her looks were as plain as an ordinary day – but she had exceptional red painted full bee stung lips which stood out in such stark contrast with her appearance.

man and two womenNow the second lady with her golden toned skin, her layers of highlighted blond locks, and a well made up face with kohl lined eyes, was a head turner. She had a fuller face and a curvy body that exuded strength and gracefulness simultaneously . Not your typical description of beautiful, but magnetism oozed from her pores. From her droopy ecru sequined top worn over fitted jeans, to her expensive looking coach shoulder bag, nice brown high-heeled boots and the Burberry striped scarf carelessly slung around her neck, she spelt class.

After my sleuth-like observation, I turned back to my reading, but their soft talk and giggles kept pulling at my attention. The golden toned ladies dark eyes glinted with naughtiness as she threw her head back in a throaty laugh. They shared chocolate bars, nibbling often from each others fingers. A fleeting touch here and there, which to a non-discerning observer would have appeared innocent. However, from my vantage sitting point in the corner, I could see their footsie play going on under the round table they occupied, and the flexing grips of both ladies hands on the mans thighs now and again.

My ears strained to catch a glimpse of their conversation but their voices were low and did not carry far, yet their discussion was interjected ever so often with a throaty giggle and a sigh.

I tried to mind what I was reading but my voyeuristic senses had been stirred. I took discreet peeks at their shenanigans, uncomfortable at such an open display of questionable affection. I did not try to rationalize their open display. It was valentines day tomorrow and who knows?

Eons later, after liberal shares of bites and sips, and a lingering kiss planted on the gentleman’s lips by the lady with the golden tone, they got up to leave. Just as they were exiting the entrance, I watched as the gentleman gently squeezed the bum of the lady in pencil skirt and glasses.

My question as to the nature of their friendship was halfway answered, yet I wondered….

Now, right in front of my eyes, on the screen of my 32″ Samsung TV, the lady with the golden tone has just become the body bundled in a blanket and dumped on a beach in Galveston. Cause of death; asphyxiation from strangling.

Within me, I knew that I had some vital information, but I struggled with the decision of getting involved in a possible murder case. My imagination went into overdrive and all sorts of monsters started hiding in my closet.

After a nightmare ridden sleep of seeing the woman’s beguiling eyes, I picked up the phone and called the police.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha