Tag Archive | Writing 201

A Love That Endures…

Life well-loved is a chosen treasure!

A singular shot to blissful existence!

Benefits we get with utmost pleasure!

He fortifies us with desired persistence!

When his face is sought with fervent endeavour!

Huge burdens becomes less of a pressure!

For he adorns us with unquantified favour!

Which takes us up to a higher measure!

God! Your peace is ever so soothing, your boundless love reassures!

Taking our misery to mirth, taking all our pain to gain!

Your faithfulness is forever as Your mercy endures!

The best gifts of life are all given free in the bargain!

Don’t be poor in spirit! Please cast off those chains!

Hurry! Do, come and join His Train!

Image result for image quotes of Gods love

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 – Poetry Day 10: Pleasure, Sonnet, Apostrophe

Dear Madam Winter….

Snow goddess

Dear Madam Winter,

An appeal to your Bitter, Blustery Highness,
As your Icicled fingers of Frigid coldness,
Begins to drift in and it gets drafty,
Could we appeal to your Foggy, Frostbitten senses?
Could your Frozen Flurries and Freezing Rain be few?
We spend tons on Flus, Flannels and the Fireplace too!
Heating our Hearths to halt Hypothermia!
Expensive jackets, gloves, leggings, woolly mittens, caps, scarves and socks,
Long-Johns, Overcoats, Parkas and the entire shindig, cost a huge packet too!
White Christmas, Snowman and Ice skating is nice we know,
But Ma’am, we could do without your,
Foggy Overcast which forebodes Ice-storms and Hails!
We could survive without your Slippery Black Ice too!
We Turn Blue from the Huge Heaps of Knee-deep Snow on our doorsteps,
Where we are forced to Seek Cozy Comfort, to Bundle, to Hibernate and indulge in,
Copious cups of hot chocolate and Warm Soup,
Until your Dreary Frozen Highness,
Thaws from the Fingers of the Warming Sun!
Please, Your Frostbitten Excellency,
Do not get gusty and nip at my Chimney in annoyance,
I simply utter a shivery request!
Thank you, Your Chilliness.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry Day 9: Cold, Concrete Poetry, Epistrophe/Anaphora

Image courtesy: Pinterest

Tints of Poignant Flavour….

Flavourful life

Flavours come in coloured tints,
Likewise emotions leave imprints,

They leave taste of euphoric dopamine,
Especially then, when you were mine,

They leave a taste of not so bright,
When everything is just not right,

A dash of joy, of peace, of faith, of hope and patience too!
A pinch of pain, of aches, of sorrow, of fear and trouble too!

With a tint of colour, each lives in our minds,
Always willing to leave something behind,

Of love that died or went away; it leaves a flavour mound,
A poignant taste of things all gone and never to be found!

You left our lives with quite a bang!
You left us behind with a lot of pangs!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Miss you dad! Happy birthday. Its 2 years on, since you left!

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry – Day 8: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio

On Fiery Banks of Sand…

My view from a 45th floor at Dubai Marina

My view from a 45th floor at Dubai Marina

Though Dubai may sound like Mumbai,

In influence as well as affluence, different they are!

On feisty banks of fiery dynastic sands,

Mighty men bank dynastic dreams and hold their hands!

Where waves of heat, rolls down in sweat,

Here baked in the sand and down your hands!

Built on incessant backs of hardworking peasants,

Who faced from afar seem hard-paced and unpleasant!

Yet behind shrouds of bright coloured rags,

Are found bright eyes like yours and I!

Gigantic, architectural feats dots skyline for miles,

Every mile and feet spots your face in awe and smiles!

Houses are like daring sprouts, hugging the clouds with a lot of clout,

A twinkling feat and an attempt at tickling an Angels feet!

They flower so fast these beaming towers of concrete,

With crescents of moon carved into very fluorescent beam!

Beneath emissions of incandescent beauty,

Belies penchant for pedantic duty!

Flowing robes and thobes of white,

Slack beguiling robes of black and black,

Dots every spot, every crook and nook!

Dazzles and sparkles of gold to be sold

Beckon to you to come and behold!

A mix of the saintly saints and the saintly sinners,

The stoic-faced faces and the sunny-side faces,

A potpourri of cosmopolitan, metropolitan lifestyles

Mingle in this restless, sleepless city for miles and miles,

Resplendent in the banks of feisty, fiery miles of sand!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry – Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance

Random pictures in Dubai

TwISTED FaCES…Day 6: Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus

eYES look.

Black eyes


                                 Macabre their faces………………;Twisted faces


Inwards turned out………………;

Outwards turned in………………..;

In goals of pursuance……………………;

Vapid, Vacuous, Rapid, Raucous…………….Faces;

twisted face

Enthused, Sick, Happy, Disjointed, Elated…………………….Faces;

TwiTsED FaCEs……………..;

walking feetbackwards walking

To all things see………………

Popping eyes

…………………To see all things!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 poetry – Day 6: Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus

This poetry was constructed from bits and pieces of my articles scattered from WordPress to Facebook and Twitter.

The Famous Poem ‘My Mother’ by Ann Taylor

There I was thinking I had a holiday from Writing 201 this weekend, alas! Mr Ben Huberman says it ain’t so.

I guess Ann Taylor’s poem stuck in my mind because it was one of those poems that I learnt and recited as a child and coincidentally, as my young son was having a bit of allergic sniffles this weekend and being a bit irritable, the poem came back to me, since I sought ways to make him comfortable and ease his distress.

The line that stuck in my head is: ”When pain and sickness made me cry, who gazed upon my heavy eye?”

It is practically a self-explanatory poem. Enjoy remembering it with me. Kind regards

My Mother – Poem by Ann Taylor

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry potluck for the weekend.

The Lady and the Map…an Ode

Living on purpose

Oh! There was an old map that the lady loved;
We used to be together, You and I;
Clutched every step of the way;
From East to West
From North to South
You and I; Map
Were inseparable!

Carefully plotted and stamped with anticipated goals;
Decorated with achievements and all the golden laurels;
At every mile and every inch of the way;
Map boasted of selfish individuality;
And screamed, Me, Me, Me!

The Map and Lady;
Grew very selfish in ambitions;
In a hasty bid to cover every milestone;
Lady forgot to tie her laces;
A trip, a fall and over the brimstone!

Scraped knees and a bleeding thumb;
Map got torn and was no longer perfect;
Lady sat in the puddle;
Wondering at the puzzle;
Then helping hand came to lift lady out of the muddle!

Bruised but not beaten;
Battered but not finished;
Lady said goodbye to old map;
Obtained a nicer map;
And sets-off on a happier journey!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Rising after fallingIn fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry – Day 5: Map, Ode, Metaphor

Imperfect Parts Of A Perfect Whole…


Dare we take a peek? I shudder;
I shudder, should we dare seek to see;
Beneath our pantomime parades;
What turbulence lies under the facades;
Can the glare of the twisted mess found beneath;

Can the parts all broken, cracked, jumbled, mangled and messed up beyond measure;
Ever fit, not to cause so much displeasure?
Facades that shimmers and glimmers like timeless diamonds;
Yet within their confined cupboards they fight and grapple with their demons;

Painful warts underneath, score my soul like those of a soiled dove;
dirty, filthy, unbecoming, unwholesome tiny cracks everywhere;
The freckles of imperfection marks me brutally;
I am covered in sinful spots and dots;
A sore sight to the sinless eyes;

But who are these sinless eyes? Where are they be to be found? I ask;
Shall we dare to take a peek to see;
There are no sinless between you and I;
All broken bits of imperfections we are;
But yet he says;

Come! I beseech you;
Come to me with all your freckles and all your warts!
Come to me with all your spots and all your dots!
Disgraced, Broken, Discarded, Cracked, Twisted, Warped,Mangled,
Hopeless, Desperate, Ashamed, Naked;

However spotty it might be!
For my perfection makes your imperfection whole!
For I came to set the captives free!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Your Love To Me….

Love birds

Y our tender gift of love to me makes my heart combust into heated waves;
O ver the years you unfurl and surprise me some more;
U ndaunted you give generously of yourself;
R egardless of how grumpy my own ways might be;

L et’s tie the knot my love, you said to me;
O ur love will endure till oceans dry out like deserts you assured;
V alidating your vows and promises to me;
E specially through the endless ebbs and tides of life;

T ender with tough tenacity, you have stood so strong;
M y one and only;
E nigmatic and excellent example of a gentlemanly husband!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 poetry – Day 2: Gift. Acrostic. Simile.

Image courtesy: Pinterest

This Thing Called Television…Haiku


Attractive apparatus of beguiling nature;
Young minds beckoned, cajoled, confused, deceived, taunted;
Traditions changed, formed over time.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry Day 1: Screen, Haiku, Alliteration