at the hearing of melodious lullabies

sung into the cranium of crying babies

who are stuck to mother’s backs at the end of noon tide.


I’m back in this place where death raises the deads of the cemetry

and hades and the grave bow their ugly heads at moonlight

to listen rapt attention to the tales told by mothers that were alive

on the day when Obatala ‘came’ here. .


I’m back in this place where stones were currencies of exchange

where we display our goods by the quiet road paths

and birds of the air serves as sales reps by lonely roadsides

until a viable buyer surfaces from the side of the hills.


I’m back in this place where all spirits are gods

except Alujaanu which is the only evil one

that swallows our morsels of ‘fufu and eats our ‘mangoes’

under the huge Iroko that sits in the horrible Irumole forests.


I’m back in this place where pestles pound the heart of mortars

and the thistles from this blessedly cursed grounds

sweetens hearts of mortals still

where the birth of a new born is marked by the death of an old bull.


In this place where babies are not thrown in ‘kitten sacks’

but on blessed backs that were bless’d of God

A place where there is no food for lazy fools

Fools who sit on the labour of the masses have no place at home.


Home is not blocks and walls

It is not bricks and clays

It is not delicacies and strife

Home is dry morsels with peace.


I’m back in this place again

I’m back to my roots

Home! Sweet Home! I come

where honey is a feeling and not a nick.

Samuel Amazing Ayoadeis a prolific young writer, a Higher National Diploma student of Federal College of Animal Health and Production Tech, Ibadan. He is a writer, singer and actor with several poems, music tracks and films to his credit. Follow and read more of his poems on