Friday, December 31, 2010

Holding The Ashes.

Holding the ashes in my small hands
I weep for those who feel like I do.
I cry for those working the lands
Without a penny to live like you.

Holding the ashes in my bare hands
I feel pain and sorrow of others,
As slaves are beaten with demands
And you, luxurious with lovers.

Holding the ashes below my head
I think about all those burned in the bombing like slaves.
Those who were starved until they were dead
Children & Fathers & Wife
While you never hunger to the grave.

Holding the ashes in my fingers
I let them blow away with the breeze,
Slipping away;so none lingers
Leaving you to bow down on your knees.

Last night, evil people determined to turn the joys of fellow Nigerians to ashes detonated a bomb at a barracks market in the Federal Capital City.
Basking in their nefarious success in Jos on Christmas eve, they have once again knifed at the heartstrings of a nation decked out in gaiety, celebrating new year's eve. This is extreme evil. It is wicked. It defies all that we believe in, and stand for as a nation.
R.I.P to those who lost their lives/Loved ones,in the Abuja Bomb Blast/Christmas Eve. My condolences goes out to u all. The culprits shall burn in hell & their brains shall explode and sound like fireworks from the most remote village. Edithsmiles suggest we all keep praying for our nation. We need more than toll gate or movie industries or what-have-you in this country! We need God and we need Him quick. People can't be killed just like that in a modern day country! Is either the government does something, or we do. And hell we can't wait till they get the "agbada" stuffed in their brains out,so we are gonna stay strong and keep praying ! In this year, we are gonna be a BURNING & A SHINNING Light. Edithsmiles wishes ALL her readers /follower a HAPPY NEW YEAR. Stay blessed.

Edithsmiles-1.1.11 (Make A Wish).

Thursday, December 30, 2010

SALT (Dying To Live).

Maybe I've been more afraid of living;
Than dying-.
To die is to be free;
To live is to be strong.

After losing your breath,
Nothing else is expected.
But after taking a breath,
You have to take one more.

You do one act, and you're remembered forever.
But if you live for someone in this world
It may seem like forever before it's over
To do one may be what's expected of you.
To do the other may just be taken for granted.
But if you combine the two;
At the right time
It may come to you that you need nothing more.

Death is not the enemy, you see,
It takes the soul and sets it free.
But love is the cage which captures your heart
And grief is the thief who rips it apart.

I have held my tears as long as I could.
What good are tears? 
Will they bring anyone back from the dead?
Will they heal the hole in my heart?
Will they tell me it’s all right, because it’s not.

Tears are just salt water, like the water in our blood.
Tears are my eyes bleeding the pain that fills me till I want to scream endlessly.
Tears may help me sleep but they don’t take away the pain.
I can work around it and over it and under it, but I can’t get through it.

Salt water stings in an open cut, tears just make my pain ache even more.

In Loving Memory of Elizabeth Abba (1992-2010)---»E-smiles

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Word Around Town Tonight.

Mist of ancient civilisations is exhaled as we breathe,
As stones retain their secrets beneath soil; And rivers, their destinies.

We are complex in our simplicity,
Simple in our complexity -
We seek,
But cannot say where, what or why -
We only continue to move forward into the unknown;
Slightly fearful; A bit adventurous; Abundantly mortal.

Fields ploughed under shall reveal a new chance at rising;
Lakes turn and unveil their crustaceans dreams.

As tempestuous winds blow,
We quietly weep;
Our tears are carried aloft into the embrace of clouds,
To be returned with gentle rain that soothes and heals.

We dress ourselves for the day's intentions,
Rarely glancing in the mirror;
Unless to smooth wrinkles of cloth,
knowing our faces cannot be altered
Except by time's wretched, unswerving hands.

The word around town is that,
We are unruly children,
And still in our wildness.


Sunday, December 26, 2010


She sparkles in the dark
She sings in the silence
She dances in the sky
She paints in the ocean
She writes in the land
She sleeps in my heart

Her name is Spark
And she sparks my mind

Her hair reaches long and far
Her fiery hair flows and burns
Heated to the touch but never burns

Her body is long and flexible
She is fast and slow at the same time
She has small defined features
And softness on her skin
The dress is long and white
Reminding me of a Goddess
Standing tall, proud, and powerful

To me she might as well be a Muse

Her name is Spark
And she sparks my mind

She's my best friend
Always understanding because she understands all
She's both a fairytale and a real story
She laughs with me and cries with me
On the outside she is all the beauty I desire
On the inside she is just like me

Her name is Spark
And she sparks my mind

Friday, December 24, 2010


Let there be peace.

Peace in the Four Corners, that it should be
a promise, and real;

Peace in our nations, that the specter should be
turned on its heel;

Peace in our cities, that fear should abandon
our streets and walkways;

Peace in our schools, that violence should be
routed, and always;

Peace in our churches, that God's children should be
families, assembling;

Peace in our homes, that our young ones should
cease in their trembling;

Peace in our hearts, that our tempers should be
cancelled and curbed;

Peace in our words, that our masses should be
studied, and stirred;

Peace in our creations, that our galleries should be
temples, adorned;

Peace in our visions, that Love, in our time,
should be born, and reborn;

Peace in our deeds, that never a doubt should
awake, and arise;

Peace in our souls, that it should be
mirrored in our eyes.

Let there be peace
Because we are what we aspire to be and to have...

Thursday, December 23, 2010


Today, my lover and I,
Went out for a walk.
Along the path, aligned flowers:
She leaned over-
Pulling at a stem.
For me??
She tore the plant...
At the node.
She grabbed for me a set of:
Alternate, palmately compound flora.
They were, white, petite.
White is symbolic-
Innocence, love, passion.
Oh! There were flowers galore.
They were different colours,
Different genes.
But my lover gave me these-
Pure white flowers.
As if to say:
I love you more than,

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

City Greetings From Lagos.

Cloud of buildings gather
In shafts of architectural delight
As the noise grows silently,
Overtaken by thousands of
Thoughts and their shadows as
They tread over city side walks

In the olden days of photos
Where occupants swam in
Shallows of black and white
A hat was tipped to greet
The lady of a graceful wave,
And the child with a playful stare.

The city glimmered as it sat
Reading the pages of each person,
Each building, and each sound.
Faces flashing brighter than the
Lights, each one unlike the other,
But all united in the same sound

And the city's only reply was the
Wave of windows opening,
The honking from impatient drivers,
The conductors cursing passengers,
The public school students fighting at bustops,
The courtesy of trees in the center park,
The thirsty cry of new born citizens,
And the blanket of brick apartment in parkview
Over family in the night.

Monday, December 20, 2010

We Three; My Shadow, My Echo & Me.

Three figures sit amongst a table.
Cloaked in shadow; they wait.
Their eyes are swift,
They dart and twitch at each sound,
Their breathing is heavy,
Three chests heave in and out in almost sync.

The first drums his fingers on the stained mahogany.
*Click* *Click* *Click*
The rhythm is slow and therapeutic;
As if to lull the others to sleep.

The second has become agitated,
The slight sighs and groans indicate boredom.
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*
The rhythm quickens.

The third stares off into space, thinking, drifting between reality and dream scape
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*

The second stands from his seat,
Cracks his neck and disappears, replaced by a feather.
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*
The rhythm pounds into the eardrums of the two remaining figures, quickening still.
The rhythm ceases as the first figure stands and disappears as the second had done.
Leaving the third trapped in his woes and sorrows, his dreams and perversions.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Letter.....

The letter in the doorway,

The knife was thrown away.

The gun taken out of the cupboard,

She’s not going to stay another day.

Blood shower over the carpet,

It had just gotten too hard.

Red stains the bedrooms floor,

And nothing but a scream and a gunshot, could be heard.

As the mother returns from work,

Parking her car slowly, with care.

She knows inside something is wrong,

But she didn’t know her daughter wasn’t there.

Ignoring the letter in front of her,

She slowly opens the door.

Everything then went black.

She broke down at what she saw.

The lifeless body on the floor,

The shotgun on her bed,

She’s not in pain anymore.

She’s not in pain, she’s dead.

Another life wasted,

Another life gone,

Another family ruined,

Because she’s never coming home.

What was the point?

Is the reason good enough?

They didn’t listen to her words.

They didn’t know she wasn’t that tough.

Her boyfriend cried and cursed at the wind,

As her little sister sat before her,

The little girls’ fingers entwined with hers,

The little girl who adored her.

The little girl who stayed by her side,

Stayed with her ‘til the end,

The little girl whom held in her other hand,

The letter that didn’t get sent.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Grass is Greener On the Other Side.

A lonely crow looking for food,
A child with an attitude,
A young girl that lost her pride,
The grass is greener on the other side.

A wandering man with no place to go,
A child freezing, covered in snow,
A broken heart, trying to hide,
The grass is greener on the other side.

A town crushed by a natural disaster,
A tired woman, cars rushing past her,
A groom running from his bride,
The grass is greener on the other side.

An orphan crying by their parents' graves,
A day in the past for hardworking slaves,
A person covered in tears they've cried,
The grass is greener on the other side.

A bird with a broken wing,
A cut with a painful sting,
A child whose fish has died,
The grass is greener on the side.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Oh, Pretty Girl !

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you hide your face?
Mask it with your soft, brown locks?
Cover your lovely brown eyes?
Hiding herself from the world,
For she is scared of the unknown

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you cry alone?
Is there no one to cry with you?
No one to share your sorrows with?
Crying in solitude,
For no one understands her pain

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you sit in silence?
Avoid all conversation?
Speak in a low whisper?
No one can hear her,
For no one will listen

Oh pretty girl,
Why do you curse that person?
That person looking back at you?
Your reflection in the mirror?
She wishes she can be,
Everything she is not.

Oh pretty girl,
Fear not ever again!
For these struggles will end
And the hate will fade.
Your eyes will sparkle
And into that mirror you will see;
A pretty girl