I step into Ibadan, my heart brimming with wonder. A soul yearning for freedom,
unchained. The city's thunder greets me with a roar, as if to rattle my insides
for the unexpected, to press its boldness into my pulse, match my countenance
with its rhythmic eye. Tenderly, I am embraced by the sun's golden eye
as a father would his prodigal son. The streets dance with a grace
that's ever vibrant. The people, giving their feet to testaments of tenacity.
In Mokola, I am engulfed by a kaleidoscope of hues. The market teems
with life, a whirlwind of energy. The air is rich with the scent of spices
and blooms, laughter and chatter melding into white symphony.
I stand amidst giants of stones in Bodija, the hum of a city without an eye for sleep.
The streets, pulsing with music of existence, weaving a tapestry
of cultures that meld and partake. In Agodi, I am lost in a verdant sea
of tranquility. Hills and forests stretch, a panorama of serenity. The air meddles
with the melody of unseen birds, nature's splendor unfolds, a breath-
taking tapestry. In Dugbe, I delve into the city's magenta heart, given
to commerce and trade, entwined in a dance divine. The rhythm of
progress, impossible to disregard, as Ibadan's heart keeps time, beats
everything to a pulp. The Cocoa House stands, a monument of grandeur.
Symbol of the city's unwavering strength and pride. Its towering presence, a tribute
to the land, and the dreams residing in its walls. Oluyole’s tradition envelopes
me, the city's storied past unravels before my gaze. The tales of yore,
vivid panorama of a people whose spirit endures, undying and ablaze. The ancient
palace walls stand, refusing to bow to potbellied arrows in the wind of time.
The stories of kings and queens hold sway, a reverence that echoes through
eternity, steadfast. I am carried by the city's vibrant wave in Iwo, metropolis
moving with purpose and grace. The fight for staffs of bread paints
a vivid tableau of a people whose arms flourish, undead. In Ibadan, I am both
lost and found. Familiar, yet uncharted. I am aware of the surprise, but the surprise
will remain a surprise. Reminded of tiny but loud joys, memories ringing
like the phone my grandmother never picks on time. In this city, I am both
home and away, a stranger and a friend, united. I am a part of Ibadan's
vibrant display, and the city's spirit will forever encircle me. In Ibadan, I am both
ancient and renewed, a traveler seeking solace, adventure, thrill. The city's embrace,
a love unwavering and true, a bond that time's passage cannot still. In this city,
I am both lost and found, wanderer and native, walking side by side. I am a part of
Ibadan's tapestry unbound, and the city's spirit will forever be my guide.
Wash-Anigboro Harry is a recent law graduate from Redeemer’s University and a passionate poet. He hails from Delta State, a state in the South-South region of Nigeria. He has dedicated himself to exploring the limitless possibilities of the written word, honing his skills, and articulating his thoughts through poetry. His unique blend of legal acumen and poetic sensibilities sets him apart as a writer. Wash-Anigboro believes in the power of words to shape minds and ignite change. As he continues his journey, he remains committed to making a lasting contribution to poetry, writing, and legal discourse.