SOME RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME

Here are some facts about me. I - I started reading the newspaper perfectly at age 5! II - I wrote an erotica mini series titled 'Ireti The Bad Girl' with about 27 episodes at age 6! III - I baked Banana cup cakes for wholesale mass supply at age 7! IV - I made my Inter-house Sports uniform with my bare hands and actually wore it at age 7! V - I scored the highest in my Primary 6 Common Entrance Examinations in the entire Kaduna South, age 9! VI - I was involved in two auto crashes and got out unscathed, age Adult! VII - I have made several mistakes and regrettable decisions, age Adult! Just threw the above out there. Cheers mates.

My Heart And I -- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

My Heart And I Enough! We're tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were carved for us. The moss reprints more tenderly The hard types of the mason's knife, As Heaven's sweet life renews earth's life With which we're tired, my heart and I. You see we're tired, my heart and I. We dealt with books, we trusted men, And in our own blood drenched the pen, As if such colors could not fly. We walked too straight for fortune's end, We loved too true to keep a friend; At last we're tired, my heart and I. How tired we feel, my heart and I We seem of no use in the world; Our fancies hang gray and uncurled About men's eyes indifferently; Our voice which thrilled you so, will let You sleep; our tears are only wet: What do we here, my heart and I? So tired, so tired, my heart and I! It was not thus in that old time When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime To watch the sunset from the sky. "Dear love, you're looking tired," he said: I, smiling at him, shook my head. 'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I. So tired, so tired, my heart and I! Though now none takes me on his arm To fold me close and kiss me warm Till each quick breath end in a sigh Of happy languor. Now, alone, We lean upon this graveyard stone, Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I. Tired out we are, my heart and I. Suppose the world brought diadems To tempt us, crusted with loose gems Of powers and pleasures? Let it try. We scarcely care to look at even A pretty child, or God's blue heaven, We feel so tired, my heart and I. Yet who complains? My heart and I? In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if before the days grew rough We once were loved, used, - well enough, I think, we've fared, my heart and I. ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]

Zachary (A Poem).

A million greetings to my diverse readers. Most people who know me are aware that I love poetry and at times, I try to write.

Here's another I wrote two days ago. I have a lot of writes but usually don't them on this blog. I'm hoping this little poem touches someone, anyone. Hope you like.
It is titled 'Zachary'.


ZACHARY
The manliness of Zachary, the suavity of
Zachary.
Zachary, my Zachary:
Hair like an old crisped scroll, days of its breakage nigh,
The skin coating your palms screams dehydration.
Hands like a miner's: rough and unpolished and unpleasant
Eager to scoop the entirety of me off the grasshoppers ridden brown grass where our picnic mat lay,
Flipping me in the air like you would do a coin when making a bet you were sure to lose.

Zachary, my Zachary
How you would make me scream for you to put me down
Then beg you to twirl me whilst I spread out both my hands in the air
Mimicking the chirpings of a Robin - you taught me how.

The manliness of Zachary, the suavity of Zachary.
When my play flight ends, grabbing unto your brittle hair
Descending,
I forget; and when you put me on our picnic mat -
The mat you got at the thrift store,
My palm has strands of hair in it but we laugh heartily, together
Making a hair ball and tossing it at your face,
Your miner hands raising and blocking your masculine but shrinking face,
Sheilding yourself from my supposedly lethal hair ball.

Zachary, my Zachary;
And the time came.
You had to go to a place where time would be important no more.
That place where your crisped scroll-like hair would absorb moisture.
Those moonlight stories you told me.
How they made me giggle continously and in turn made you laugh.
Those rainy mornings we sang together sitting by the fireplace.
I remember you for them.
Each night when the stars give up their shyness,
I lay our picnic mat on the water starved grass
Looking up, thinking of you.
I know I'll be with you soon if fate permits.
Zachary, my Zachary.
Your manliness. Your suavity.

Christina Milian Feat. Dre "Hot Boy"

My favourite song since 2006!

One Of My Favourite Poems by Elizabeth Barrette Browning

HOW DO I LOVE THEE

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."

---E.B. Browning

THE FUTURE (A POEM)

Foretelling the future, I see Precious;
The preciousness of your name,
The preciousness of your words,
The preciousness of your voice,
The preciousness of your body.

Foretelling the future, I see Embers;
The embers from your touch,
The embers from your stare,
The embers from your suave,
The embers from your argots.

Foretelling the future, I see Paradise;
Paradise I feel but in your presence,
Paradise I say but in your company,
Paradise I dream but in your absence,
Paradise I know but in our solidarity.

Foretelling the future, I see Colour;
The colour of passion,
The colour of beauty,
The colour of adoration,
The colour of pleasure.

Foretelling the future, I see Synchrony;
Our thoughts in synchrony,
Our dreams in synchrony,
Our tastes in synchrony,
Our admiration in synchrony.

Foretelling the future, I see Love;
Walking in love,
Working in love,
Singing in love,
Dancing in love.

Foretelling the future, I see Clouds;
Upon which I float when in your presence.
Upon which happiness is the present.
Upon which passion is at its peak.
Upon which my heart goes meek.

Foretelling the future;
If but not in dreams, here we shall be.
If but not in thoughts, here we shall be.
If but not in fantasy, here we shall be.
If,
If and only if;
If but not the distance,
The foretold future is where we shall be my darling.

xx vanessa xx
(do not copy)

BABY

Hi. It's been a while since I blogged. This blog is supposed to be a diary but your girl has been too busy to write in a what is perceived as a school girl's play ground.
Reading my previous posts, I must admit it is somewhat shallow. All this crazy talk about love and its entrails. In as much as I want to project my intelligence on this blog, I won't as it is supposed to be a diary of a girl and not about serious talk but I must admit I'm so over love talks. I was younger but now older and wiser -- well, I'm still young :) -- I mean it's just over a year ago since I updated this blog last.

Baby? Was thinking of a title for today's post when something came to mind. Baby! Yes baby!
So lately, majority of my childhood and teen years friends have been going about town, gallantly flaunting their babies. Some cute ones and some really hideous ones I must admit *shrieks at the mental image I just had of one of the babies* :)

My mates have been having babies and of course, they get married first. Yes, I'm Nigerian and we don't go about having babies without getting married. I see the girls really happy -- living comfortably with nice husbands. And therefore this happiness reflects on these babies' well being.
With all of these, how can you not want to have your own baby?

Enters Linda, an old friend who is currently a working class sophisticated lady and in her early 20's. It's the weekend and of course salon visits are inevitable. Keys of a posh car being held by the index finger on her left hand just above the fashion ring on it, beside the big stoned engagement ring which now seems to be stuck to the middle finger (who would want to take that off anyways? :) ) and also next to the 24 carat gold wedding band on the fourth finger. Now, this is just the left hand.
On the right hand, a gold fashion ring on the index finger and an ordinary fashion ring on the middle finger.
But all I've mentioned isn't even close to the best part.
Right above the right ankle, just between the elbow pit and the ankle, a gold plated cylindical bar, already curved into a semi-rectangle, the both ends of the semi-rectangular cylindrical bar being attached to both sides of a finely layered mobile baby carrier.
A beautiful baby girl lies in with that cute smile and the occassional clapping of those tiny palms accompanied with baby laughter.

The air in the room is instantly occupied with the smell of babies. You know how lovely and pleasant that can be right? Well, unless the pampers gets busy :)
Acrylic odour disappearing as a more pleasant one takes over.

Aww. See why I want my own baby?! Well, can't have one without a man can I? I'm just done looking for this thing called love.
Maybe it's because I'm looking. So I'll let love find me. Want to get to feel those sparks that they feel in movies. :)
xx vanessa xx