Author Archives: Joel Ogunjimi

About Joel Ogunjimi

Joel Ogunjimi is a mathematician with a passion for writing. He is a writer, a poet and a blogger. He is also an editor for Rainbow Chaussure and Executive Editor at Dalet Institute.

Patience

Patience is a friend–
But not to all,
A friend with an odd taste.
For it befriends testiness and anger,
And only they could bring him out wherever he exists.

In the face of calm and reason,
Patience shies away into solitary.
For with love it rarely shines
Of anger?
It blossoms–where the seed already is.

A man who befriends patience
Should fear no stormy day,
Neither should he dread a nagging woman,
For only then can his friend,
show his face for all to see.

Muse

In the pangs of labour
there is hope
hope of a new life in the newborn
even as in struggle you devote
time and thoughts in search of the right words
and ways, to tell and show
the huddles and muddle in your mind
you hold on
to that glint you’ve seen afore
’cause you know it holds more,
and more will come just as it has before

When the words seem to dry up
and you are left gawking at a blank page
and the only thing echoing beneath your pate
is nothing, but you remember
a flicker,
that has led you thus far
a flicker from the Muse

And though you can’t see it now
And the darkness seems so thick
with the winds howling so loud
the faint cry of hope you can’t pick

And though you pray to the Muse
to guide you and bestow
the inspiration to solve a mystery
and the strength to look beyond the obvious

And though your words seem too shallow
you doubt from the goddess’ they could have flowed
and no one would ever in them think to dive
and so rigid the lines, they daresay
you are but another cliché

The universe will reply
’cause you are in sync with her
as every artist is, before you and after
For you have tapped into the realm of brilliance
a brilliance so much you swirl to find focus.

Then will Muse hold and plant your feet
so your pen may once more find the words
And your brush, the right angle
to complete a masterpiece.

What’s Going On?

A shrill sound of hope
From anthems and hymns alike
A wave of despair
Touching everything it sights
You watch as from outer space
As life daily pass by
On the rich and poor together
But never in the same manner

What is going on with me?
You wonder out loud
Why are my days marked with so little
Why do I make a faint sound
In a world full of noise
When will I make meaning of my days?
And time will eventually hear my voice

When the wave passed
And the days find a rhythm
One you grace with a slow dance
You realise as you pick your pen
And once again fill up blank pages
That all the words you formed now and then
Are louder than all the noise the world daily screams.

Insomnia

Sleep eludes me tonight!
My mind is clear as a cloudless sky
But still sleep eludes me.

No thoughts taunt me
No regrets tonight;
The coast is all clear.

I lay and wait for sweet sleep to envelop me
I close my eyes and count sheep
But hours later with thousands of sheep accounted for
I still lay here wide-eyed.

I get up and walk the length of the dark road
All is quiet save the soft whispering of music through my earphones
Soft August rain drizzle and wet my hoodie.

The night is perfect for a sweet dream-full night
But dear sleep has wandered off somewhere I can’t reach
And I walk on, searching for it in the shadows.

Sleep eludes me tonight
Like the night was perfect for a game-
A game of hide-and-seek

But sleep plays better than me
For it is absolutely hidden
And I roam the dark wet night.

Sleep eludes me tonight
But I found another companion-
A companion called insomnia.

My Story

I have a story
A story to tell
A story to share
But what words would dare
Casually reflect and express
The feelings of the oppressed
Or tell justly
The grip of injustice
On a society of civilized barbarians.

A story must be told
In honesty and truth
I must be bold
Enough to shine light on crooked path
And stand in for the voiceless
Who daily pass by in silence.

My pen must bleed
Till I’m out of ink
And my paper is filled
With words to make ’em think
And show to all the lords
That true freedom must be reborn.

Money

For the needy and poor
For the sake of posterity
For the bolted door
That holds behind it prosperity.


For a life of ease
For the mind to know peace
For a better tomorrow
That’s safe with no sorrow.

We labour and toil
Even though it seems it holds no joy
Daily work must go on
Till the night ends and we see the sun.

Unique Love

I could write of love all day long
and tell of its sweet moments in a song,
the painful memories of its loss
And the shattered being that bears the cross.

I could tell of love’s tragedy;
like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.
Of crossed fate and destiny
and the sweet destruction true lover’s get.

I could write a poem to express
Sweetness and distress,
A poem such as Poe’s
That tells of woes
And serves as a bittersweet dose.

But none could tell truly,
or express intimately
how much love feels
or how lush it blossoms
with innocence and freedom
when it comes and sweetly sweeps
a lover off their feet.

The Cost

A screeching halt
Reflecting and re-evaluating
Taking stock of what is left and what you’ve lost
Counting the cost of what you’ve gained,
Was it worth it? Is this all you get?

Today, you’re alive uncertain of the future
Today, you carry your cross, the cross you gained along the way
You wonder which loss was worth the cross…
The exchange!
The substitute for something better,
Or so you’d thought.
But was it worth it

The one you dropped along the way,
Dead-weight you called it and
Picked a lighter parcel….
‘It is quality that matters, not quantity’
You’d tried to convince yourself
To assure yourself you made the right choice…

Now, yesterday’s quality is today’s dead-weight
And so you muse,
Was it worth it?
Your losses over the years it seems
Outnumbers your gains
And once again with a heavy heart
You count the cost

You’ve lost treasures while gathering rubbles
You forgot to live life while chasing a mirage
Was it worth it?
Is this all you could have gotten?
Teary-eyed, you turn around
And hope to God it isn’t too late
To find the real life you’d left behind.
© Joel Ogunjimi ²⁰¹⁶