Oracle's Voice

27/10/2022

You can read the details on inksound

25/10/2022

20/01/2022

It's not by height, it's by insight
You can touch the sky if you believe.

Oracle's Voice

07/01/2022

Poetry to the world

27/11/2021

We moveee

28/09/2021

Where you cannot go send your voice

02/09/2021

We speak to the world through this channel too

Melbourne Culture Corner is a fun and creative space. Designed to connect the writers of the world with the art capital of Australia and vice versa. It is our goal to help emerging writers create a global following and to be able to reach as many readers as possible. We would like to express that…

09/08/2021

AN ELEGY TO THE LAND THAT GAVE ME BIRTH

aroma of roasted corns
woke me from bamboo bed
birds chirped over my head
under cold hand of harmattan
& I beheld mountains extending
hands of fellowship to the sky

cry of mortal & pestle deafened ears
from a far - a call to feast on mountain
& men armed for war - straight
to the wood to keep their race alive
& fresh wine, gulping from Iyamopo Hill
ready to cut my kinmen's throat
when the battle was over.

I saw egrets beating drum in
new horizon - they had travelled
through the edges of the world,
bringing & carrying news to & from
Igbeti. I heard them singing praises of our ancestors
& when I opened my eyes,
I was cut like a mouse in Hunter's trap
between teeth of sweet memories.

I sat under the great sycamore
that gave me name & I beheld
my town growing dwarf on her own prairie,
her walls prostrated like agama
& unity, standing some miles away from her gate
our youth, crumbling over left over food,
in tinted heads & blocked senses -
f**k the archaic norms! they said

my throat choked & I gasped for words;
Is this the land bought with our fathers' blood?

I searched for my voice amidst
my kinsmen but... gone!

so, I've woven this poem gaging out
of my fading vein into a chaff
that wind may carry it to the presence
of Creator. may be, just may be
cat & rat would party again in our abode.

Stephen Oladayo Oladoku
aka Oracle's Voice

19/06/2021

I love to sing the poem
of voices echoing across
the dead sea that swallowed our
fishermen at midnight then
sent us their footprint on water
& sewn us their blood, a dark garment.

Extracted from THE POEM I LOVE TO SING by Stephen Oladayo Oladokun

21/04/2021

I dedicated this piece to ABU linguists 2016 set

THIS IS NOT A POETRY OF LOVE

the sun peeks at me from behind canopy of sycamore. I see mountains skipping, valleys fleeing & days running. I search for Ushie & Majeed in the bookish cage of our masters, I snoop for sweet scent of Laura & Murna, my eyes hunger for Kaka's red lips & I long for Princess's goodies. Call me Silas, my assignment is ready for submission. Tell Moses to stretch his staff over red sea that I may cross to Hadiza, Shaima'u & Aisha for I fought Shantalli's ghost last night, took his torch & flipped over pages I'd spelt Lizzy, Abubakar & Maimuna but I found Fulani resting on his shepherd staff with Daban's book hanging over his fingers. I've spewed Mahmud, Justinian & Kolo out of my clay pot but don't say I didn't tell you this is not a poetry of love for I'm fading away like smoke - a piece of me is dying on tree of life & if you still love me, save a strand of my hair dangling on air in your head.

Stephen Oladayo Oladokun
Oracle's Voice