OZUBULU 202

This is the purest kind of evil,
Where the heavens receives human blood as wine on the altar;
A barbaric act, draining the mind of the masses,
Whose eyes barely see a better tomorrow
As their blood stain the sanctuary in abyss.

Many of them are gone,
Gone to the land of no return,
They left their praises with the Messiah,
Only for us to witness a mess higher.
Now our tears sing songs,
Songs that our ears can't hear.

These men are awesomely wicked
No wonder, they're like aliens with weak heads
They are mostly called gunmen,
That's why they show no mercy like those gone men
Who claim lives through mass murder;
Now we don't know if there's mass for our mothers
Whose brains were blown out as they were murdered.

#Philosopher
#Ozubulu
#killing
#poetry
#condolence

HOPE ALIVE(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Our faces are rubbed with shame,
We live a life where we don't find fame,
We passed through excruciating pains,
After the struggles, we got no gain.

Mind you, this poem is penned to remind you
That you can be the better YOU.
So, stand on your feet and wipe your tears,
Say no to defeat and say no to your fears.

Our faces may be punched with lies.
Daily insult may fly like flies,
But don't ever give up your hope,
Don't ever let them get you with a rope.

You know life is not a bed of roses,
For you are YOU, so don't pretend to be Moses.
Be bold, tenacious and strong,
Don't ever loose hope, even when things go wrong.

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
08:12:17
10:51pm
#BOW
#WOW6
#slammer
#Passion
#Poet
#philosopher
#SunSamPaul

BEYOND THE COLOURS(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Today is not independence,
So don't expect green white green on my skin;
For this nation has failed to grin, wine and grin,
This nation sags and her pant is exposed
All we see is red light, red light
We can't sleep with two eyes closed,
Please give us pink
So our soul won't sink.

Let us for once behold yellow,
So we can greet one another "hello",
This is not Biafra, so hide your scars;
Stand out and shine like the stars.

For if all we need is black and white,
Then there'll be sokoto in our shokoto
This is a land of success
So give us back our conscience.

So there'll be no blood on the street,
No child marriage and rape,
No nepotism and tribalism,
So there'll be peace and not pieces of human bodies. ©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170

#Philosopher
#poetry
#colours

OUR SKIN IS AS HOT AS AN OVEN(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher)

Remember what has come upon us;
Look, and behold our reproach!
Our inheritance has been turned over to aliens,
And our houses to foreigners.
We've become orphans and waifs,
Our mothers are like widows.

We pay for the water we drink,
And our foods comes at a price.
They chase at our heels;
We labour and have no rest.
We have given our hands to the enemies,
And the wicked, to be satisfied.

Our forefathers sinned and are gone,
But we bear their iniquities; we are killed by gun.
Servants rule over us,
There's none to deliver us from their hands.
We get our daily bread at the risk of our lives,
Because of the sword we see, we failed to strive.

Our skin is as hot as an oven,
Because of the fever of famine.
They ravished the women in our land,
They raped the girls in our yards.
Our sons were hung up by their neck,
And elders were disrespected.

Young men struggled to survive,
Boys staggered under loads of woods.
The joy of our heart has ceased,
Our morning has turned into mourning.
The crown has fallen from our head,
Our skin is as hot as an oven.

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com

Sunsampaul is a poet, student, and spoken word artiste, he loves writing prose and drama too. You can contact him via 08180861170. He resides in 42 Anthony Agboje Street , Ajegunle, Apapa, Lagos.

AGONY OF A WIDOW by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher

It was no dazzling evening. The wind was combating with roofs. It was pouring down. Before Jessica's husband kissed the dust, they were working class parents, hustling hard to pay the rent. Jessica had invested a lot, hoping to see the stars like her wealthy elder sisters. But now, as a widow who had just lost her husband, she was weary, and her melancholic eyes were drowned in tears. Her truncated imagination failed to trace the agony that had spilt them like dust.

      It had turned her soft, swollen eyes into oceans of sorrows. Her home had become a graveyard to mourn her husband. As scattering of stars all over the nation were watching the racing night, her closed-opened eyes harboured the painful demise of her husband.

      Barely a week after the burial, her husband's family clustered in her home with rage, claiming she had killed their brother. They fired catapults of insults at her. They threw her bombs of wickedness. A family that used to be nice to her had suddenly become thorns in her flesh.

       Later on, they invaded her home with her husband's lawyer who read his will aloud. They were perplexed when they discovered he bequeathed his house and wealth to his wife and daughters. Their sweat became blood, and they prepared to cook a pot of wickedness to make sure they could inherit the wealth.

       In the subsequent month, one of Jessica's daughters died. She guessed her in laws were behind the supposed mysterious ailment that befall her little daughter but had no evidence to prove their guilt. They kept making life miserable for her. They lambasted her because she refused to kowtow to them.

      She went through excruciating pains, she was inflicted with several ailments that made her unable to walk. She was abandoned, thereafter the ailments got worst and her body started smelling. She cried day and night for vengeance until she was introduced to a pastor who prayed for her and she was healed after fasting for two weeks with fervent prayer.

      Two days later nemesis caught up with her wicked in laws, they all fell sick and their entire family members suffered excruciating pains as well until they passed on slowly one after the other after confessing their evil deeds to her. What they sowed, they reaped. No man sow plantain and reap banana. Being good is a good lifestyle, it is evil to be wicked; because life is a big circle. Jessica and her only surviving daughter lived happily ever after.

LAGOS IS MY SUCCESS STORY(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher)

When I was four, mama said to me "son, just like a strong horse, one day you'll gallop into Lagos, an electrifying city. A world-class destination, Nigeria’s most amazing city that has wonderful beaches, skyscrapers,
amazing parks, best entertainment, most job opportunities and so much more.

When I first found myself in Lagos, I discovered it's city that never sleeps, you could buy from
the street shops at any time, be it early morning when the cocks are still clearing their tracheae or late night when those flammulatesd owls still hunt for prey. Aboki with small kiosk selling a variety of household items just to excoriate the rumblings of worm in an hungry man's gut.

A land of hospitality, where hospitals are the main priority, saving lives is everyone's dignity, no family want their teenage daughters to loose their virginity, brothers wishing their sister still have purity. Where different tribes live in unity, no wonder it's a land of simplicity.

A land of opportunity, where souls clustered to make ends meet, where graduates, traders, hustlers, business men and women perched like birds of the air, just to make a living. A land where there's no food for lazy men, where rats also hustle to quench their hunger and royals still rumble so they won't fumble or stumble on a dabbled marble.

A land of creativity, where humans are creative, yet they don't create thieves, where talent is born and breed. A land of working class parents, hustling and working to pay rent, a land where traffic jam punch human mind, a land of true federalism where education is taken more seriously than ejaculation. A land of hope, faith, love, wisdom, counsel, understanding, kindness and unity. For this land is my success story. ©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170
#Spokenword
#Poetry
#Lagos
#Success
#Story
#Philosopher
#Writes

I'M EVERYWHERE (a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Don't look for me in only a place of worship,
I'm everywhere, anywhere you call on me, I'll be.
I'm in your small dark room that lacks proper ventilation,
Even though it is not like a palace;
Just call on me.

I'm in the market place where noises are cooked and served to passerby,
No matter the sun and rain,
Flood and swamp in the market;
Just call on me.

I'm in the coven of your enemies that plot to kill you,
When they mention your name,
And invoke your image in a mirror,
My image will definitely appear to defend you.

I'm in the brothel, anytime you are there to win souls for me,
When temptation comes,
When seduction occurs,
I'll stand by you to keep your faith strong.

I'm in your kitchen and other room,
Inasmuch you call on me,
Made your knees kissed the ground just for me,
Stretched your hand in prayer,
You'll notice my presence.

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170

DON'T ASK WHY(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Don't ask why the echoes from children of the streets still crack walls, break bridges, open ground, divide the cloud; yet couldn't rain down blessings.

Don't ask why the drop down tears from the eyes of our sick mothers caused heart attack for our poor fathers, deprived us our sleep, punctured our hope; yet couldn't   make the sun smile at us.

Don't ask why our graduates comb the streets in search of job, after spending more than four years in tertiary institution, yet couldn't set their eyes on a single placard of job opportunity.

Don't ask why our children in public schools don't have seats to sit, but still plant their buttocks on the floor, just to gain knowledge; yet find no devoted teacher to impart knowledge.

Don't ask why our economy is downtrodden, leaders backsliding, hospitals fallen, churches bombed, daughters kidnapped; yet no kerosene in the lamp to make us see the light of a better tomorrow.

Please don't ask why, don't make your worries become punchlines to punch minds, just go down on your knees and pray for these intentions, don't pretend they were not mentioned, lest your hope be placed under detention, just put your trust in God not in man

Strive to make sure there's no religious diversity, don't cast stone on the leaders but pray for a godly change of selfless interest, not a political change of selfish interest.

Put on a smiling face, let your physiognomy be radiant, don't make the excruciating pains put your back on the ground. Don't stoop so low just to go so low, but rise on your feet and make the sun smile at you.
Please don't ask why.

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170

POETRY IS LIFE(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Poetry is the heart of art
The ladder that take a person of exceptional talent to the top
The light that brightens the life of human
The echoes of children of the street

Poetry is the prophecy of a prophet
Poetry is not only what I do
Poetry is who also I am
I write poetry, speak poetry,preach poetry
I am poetry

Poetry is the Mouth piece that speak peace more than a chief priest
Poetry is the hope of the wussies
Poetry is the future of the boys and girls who went and never returned
Poetry is the calabash that can never be broken
Because Poetry is life

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170

POETRY IS THE HEART OF ART, SAYS SIR ERIATA DURING HIS INTERVIEW WITH CITADEL OF LIFE MEDIA

Question:

Sir how do your find a mentor as a poet ?  Someone to train you






Reply:

I started writing poetry in pidgin English. I was my mentor until I started writing poetry in English language. It was then I shared my works with the current President, Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), Denja Abdullahi. He should be appreciated for being the very first person who showed seriousness in my works and guided me accordingly on the way forward.





Question:

Generally, both the English Poetry and the Naija Language puem dem, when did you started writing poetry.




Reply:

 I started writing poetry in my secondary school day.

However, poetry writing consciously for me started in Abuja, Nigeria sometime in 2006



Question:

At times, people write poems and we think it doesn't look like one, WHAT IS THE RUDIMENT OF POETRY, SIR? What makes a work a good poem?




Reply:

 Every beginner poetry writer doesn't see his or her poem as a poem until encouraged to do so. Meanwhile, the rudiments of poetry writing rests on the consciousness and ability of the poet to deploy poetic features or devices as some would want to address it.




Question:

Wow! Thanks for that concise answer Sir.

_To finally drive the point home, Sir, what is/are the chief POETIC DEVICE OR FEATURES one can employ in one's work to make it meet up with the qualitative works?_




Reply:

Talking on poetic features and those to use, I will simply say they come handy depending on situations. Meanwhile, all are ok. None should be deliberately recommended.

Question:

How well can a page poet win a poetry slam? What are the important steps to take Sir




Reply:

 Every slam/poetry challenge has its rules or guidelines. Poetry reading isn't poetry performance. A page poet as you want to call it, has the chance if the rules are so spelt out in such a way that the page poet would be considered differently. Meanwhile, I page poet could win if he performs his poem like a performance poet. A slam is a poetry challenge demonstrated on stage.



Question:

What are the necessary imageries and figure of speech to be used in a poetically written prose



Reply:

 None recommends poetic features or devices. As earlier mentioned, they are deployed as at when necessary. Poetically written prose is a prose work written brevity; conscious of embellishing it with poetic features. In this case, reading the work would tell any reader that, it was not just a prose work, it was one carefully written to prove a solid point for creativity. Don't forget that, poetry is the heart of art.


It's not a compulsion to have a Pen name. Personally, I dislike it. I want my name to be me, and me till eternity.


Eradicating plagiarism is likened to eradicating corruption. Not possible. We can only check against it or work towards reducing it. How do we do this? The writer should always sign off his or her work. And keep good records of drafts in such a way that, they could be easily retrieved in evidence.


Which platform do you desire that you are not getting? This is a wild remark. Look out for platforms. They are all over and non debars you from making the best use of them.

I'M MANY THINGS SAYS BM DZUKOGI DURING HIS INTERVIEW WITH COL MEDIA

Col media:

It a huge privilege having you here sir. Briefly introduce yourself
and tell us the full meaning of BM.




BM Dzukogi:

 Thanks. I am sitting with friends in Jigawa attending Nuga prelims.
There are a total of 19 universities here. Sport is one part of me. I
studied PHE at ABU. We are ahead of you, naturally. This is the
meaning of my name: Baba Muhahammad Dzukogi. Born 65, in Bida, Niger
State. Another part of me is creative writing. I guess I have about 10
tittles. When people see me, they think I am a Sheikh. I am not.




Col media:

Briefly describe your wife sir.




BM Dzukogi:

My wife, with all sense of humility, is the most popular female
preacher in Niger state. I am many things. I just mentioned two, a
while ago.




Col media:

Tell us some of your achievements




BM Dzukogi:

I am a teacher, Principal Sports Officer, IBB University, Lapai. In
Arts Administration, I am responsible for some big art events and
programmes in Niger and Nigeria. I am the draughtsman of the Annual
Schools Carnival of Arts and Festival of Songs (ASCAFS). It has run
since 1995 non-stop. I am the draughtsman for NBA International
Colloquium. Soyinka attended one. Odia did one Pius Adesanmi did one.
Nigerian Writers Series of ANA is me. No apology for saying it. Teen
Authorship of ANA is me. Minna Literary Series is me. And now the
NIFESTEENA! So, I am an art administrator.




Col media:

Sir, tell us a bit about NIFESTEENA, Nigeria Festival for Teen Authors.



BM Dzukogi:

 Nigerian Festival of Teen Authors. It's starting April 20, 2017. Sec.
Schs are coming to compete in poetry and story writong,
painting,photography, spoken word, poetry performance. They are coming
from around the country under Hill-Top Foundation.

This is the maiden edition. We are 'notorious' for teen authorship. In
2016 alone, we published 10. We are completing it to 13 before
Nifesteena. The gov. is presenting them on 23rd April. But senior guys
are coming to watch. I love to philosophise. I have a book of my
quotations -seclusion

 I have two poetry collections. One short story. Two essays including,
Sex is Beautiful, Three children's story.





Col media:

Are your family writers, tell us about them.






BM Dzukogi:

 Wife has one poetry book. My son has four poetry books

 My daughter has one poetry book, I am talking about published ones only.

 Saddiq, my son, is on the Brunel Poetry Prize shortlist, 2017. He is
fanatical about poetry.



Col media:

Sir tell UA extremely the negative sides of  Nigerian youth to be adjusted.





BM Dzukogi:

 Nigerian youths annoy me too much. They are incapable of redeeming
Nigeria. Extremely docile and petty like their fathers and mothers.


 People forge certificates, loot, and all they do is to laugh. They
know not the meaning of nation- building, service, and they understand
what it means to be human.

 They too are stealing and looting their student organisations. They
shamelessly ethnic and over religious like their elders to the point
of losing their senses.

So, nothing is going to change. They going to inherit the poverty of
their fathers, the rot deposited by their mothers and the circle is
helpless continuous and degenerative.


 Community service and volunteerism are the redeeming elements of a
nation. If not because some people are volunteering to do good, the
world would have been moving backward.

 What retains the society is not just love but sharing what you have.
 They have the energy and the intellect but annoyingly docile. They
know not what powers they have. They know not what force they could
gather to dislodge those who hold them hostage. They know not that
they actually could refuse to follow the designs of political adults
and design theirs.

But you should know. Haven't you read the stories of other lands? How
they reclaimed their countries? See, you must rise. In one band, and
'chase those crazy bald heads, out of town'.





Col media:

 But what if we just think such techniques works only in advanced countries.
Where youths are taken more seriously.







BM Dzukogi:

 There you go! Advanced countries! 'Taken Seriously'.

Is it not annoying enough that they take you unserious to provoke you
exerting your seriousness. Elites and political elites do not thrown
rights to you because you need it. They do because you demanded for
it, vigorously.

Violence! Why are you thinking violence.?

Protest is not violence. Uprooting them at electoral process is not violence
 Nominating one of you to be governor and mobilising your folks to
achieve it doesn't require violence

 'Vigorously' means active participation or being logical proactive
Art is not imposition. Creativity is boundless. Let each operate
according to his inspiration. Practically, people pander towards where
the attention is.



Col media:

Thanks sir for your precious time.




BM Dzukogi:

Thanks We just left Dutse NYSC camp for our lodge. Is there any NYSC
camp that is as beautiful as that of Jigawa, at all? None I believe.

WHEN GOING TO MINNA SEEMS GOING TO MILLAN(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

With the 'hoos and the haas'
That eloped from the park,
That made Lagos bid me goodbye,
With her elongated hands and outstretched neck.

The loneliness in OOO route
Is tantamount to that of cemetery,
When passing Ogun, Oyo and Osun seems quiet
And the only voices heard are the lamentations of the wind.

Getting to Illorin
Where vehicles stopped at every five minutes
Just for road checkup
By Police men, soldiers and custom officers.

This journey is not a Virgin,
This journey is not on her period
Going to Minna seems going to Millan,
Where road side snacks are costly than t.fare.

Getting to sokoto route,
You'll be tempted to check your shokoto,
To see if your patience has fallen,
For this journey is for only the brave.

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170
20:04:2017
08:22pm

LONELY ROAD(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Upon this road,
Noises were lost in mistiness,
The wind screaming amidst dancing trees;
Were journey dined with day and night.

Flash light from running vehicles chanting 'give way, give way,'
Bushes gossiping in a low tune.
A journey that seems unending,
A journey feeding on a lonely road.

Upon this road,
I drew close to Chad,
Even though my face look sad;
I still keep hope alive,
For I've a brighter life.

Even when darkness enveloped the road,
And when heavy wind slapped my face;
I still focused my direction to my destination,
For this lonely road has served me dinner.

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170
20:04:2017
07:53pm

EXERCISE REDUCES EXCESS SIZE(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

Exercise reduces Excess size
Though it doesn't come with a prize
That's why it's good for the wise
It burn fat and give you good shape
No it won't make you look like an ape

Exercise gives you good health
Try embark in cycling
For it's more beneficiary than ultimate cycling
Exercise can make you jump from a pinnacle
It's better than the money doubling called naracle
Ask Mr Jim he's always in the gym
So exercise will reduce his excess size



Exercise is my breakfast
No wonder I'm very strong whenever I fast
Back then in my past
Every race I encountered I didn't emerge last
Cos my knowledge in exercise is vast
Just like that big Lagos mast

Ask my brother Mark
He'll tell you the gym is around the park
The inside is never dark
The gym will make you strong like shark
Even the fat ones will become slim when they
come back

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
08180861170
#Philosopher #Rhyme #RandomLines #Rhythm #Punchline #Pun #Exercise

THE KING OF ACT Dedicated to #Peteedochie(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

So teach us to number our days O you king of act
That we may apply our hearts unto wisdom
Same way you taught the hen
Not to count her eggs
Before they're hatched

The radiance of the day
The blooming of flowers
The blueness of the sky
Celebrate you today

The eagerness of the birds
The whisper of the Holy Spirit
The joy of the Angels  The gladness of parents
The happiness of siblings
The congratulatory messages from friends
Are sent to you today

 Today Is all about a good and promising man
The man who makes me laugh in his act
The king of act from whom wisdom proceeds

The man who is not partial
The man who at the first instance was said to have 'no head'
Now becomes the head of organisations and unions
 In fact, it is indeed a joyous moment for me Just because it's your birthday

A man of caliber
A man of dignity
The father of many fathers
A veteran more specialized in the act
Happy 70th birthday
As you've stepped into the cocoons of septuagenarians
More wisdom will follow you like Seminarians
I beam my silence
For I'm a poetic Philosopher

#Poem #Birthday #Wishes #Veteran #Actor #King #Of #Act #Father #Mentor

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
+2348180861170

PANEGYRIC TO A PARAGON(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

I do not know if rain fell that day
Or if mama was in pain
I cant tell the precise look on papa's face
Or whether grandma chewed her finger nails

But I know for sure
That when your special head
So pure, popped out
Mama smiled
Even papa hid his grin

Today we celebrate your victorious history
Many years of glory and wonderful stories
Days, months and years have gone by
But the stroke of your act on scroll stays bold


When birds whistle, be still When goats bleat, bleep not When owls
blink, steer safe When dogs bark, fear not

Kick off your shoes, take a break
Crank the tunes
Dance and Shake, light the candles
Cut the cake
Make it a day, that's simply Great!

Happy birth day
Another day to celebrate you
I beam my silence
For I'm a poetic Philosopher

©Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher
Sunsampaul4globe@gmail.com
08180861170

BOND OF LOVE- Episode 15 by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher

After she walked out, Maxwell left feeling a sign of relief that he
have told her and a sign of fear that she might not follow his
warning.




He's a young man with the heart of love and care, even with his power,
he's still humble. Many people envy him for his humility and heart of
love and care.




Back in Stella's school she was found insulting some girls in a gang
and one of the girls in the gang start up a fight with her, she was
beaten blue black and was eventually stabbed by a dark and naughty
girl named  Cynthia.




She was left in the pool of her blood.



A fight that took place after school at the school field almost cost
the life of Stella, the case was reported to the security who quickly
took Stella to the nearest hospital as soon as he got to the scene of
the fight.





Her family was quickly informed and they all rushed to the hospital,
Samuel was devastated and worried. He had the fear that his sister
won't follow his warning.



Not quite long the doctor walked into the w

BOND OF LOVE- Episode 14 by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher

Hearing that Stella has gone to school, Samuel quickly headed for her
school, he met her after the assembly as she was about going in for
first lecture. He walked into the class of great teenagers and
signaled Stella to excuse him.




"Sis, I know what I'm about to say may sound strange to you, but take
it serious for it's the truth" he said.





"See, Samuel if you can't tell me why you called me out, I'll walk out
of you now" she said rudely.





"Okay the message is that, last might I dreamt that something terrible
will happen to you today" he opened up.



"See this guy, are you kidding , something like what, you think your
powerful vision will lead you to me just like it did to mum years
back, no you lied? She retorted.





"You must be careful, don't fight anyone today pls, don't look for
trouble, just study and return else you will regret the result if you
go against my warning" Samuel warned her.





Stella paid a deaf ear, hissed and walked out of his brother, she
never for once believe in her brother's power even when her friends at
home believe.

BOND OF LOVE- Episode 13 by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher

"Son tell me what you dreamt about me" she hastily asked and Samuel
narrate the dream to her and begged her not to even go for the trip.





Samuel's power has made him strong at his tender age, he's obedient
and hardworking. His mother later gave birth to a girl named Stella.



Unlike Samuel, Stella is stubborn, playful, disobedient and
troublesome. Each time she went out to create problems, Samuel will be
the one to bear the cross.





Samuel will always stand for his sister, but he never failed to warn
and advice her. One night he dreamt when his sister was fighting with
her classmate and was stabbed by one of the gang who came to school
with a pen knife.




When he woke up, he prayed vehemently about it and decided to tell his
sister, he searched for her but couldn't find her.




"Juliet, where's Stella, I must see her before she go to school
today?" He enquired.


"She hurriedly left for school when your mother was going to work, she
joined her in the car" she replied.



Juliet is a maid working for Samuel's family, she does most of the
house chores. Samuel is waiting for his UTME result, he passed his
WAEC with flying colours. Stella is a naughty girl in SS2 science
department.

BOND OF LOVE- Episode 12 by Sunsampaul Egwu Philosopher

Twelves years later their son whom they named Samuel began to feel s
supernatural power in him. When he was seven the power started
manifested but he didn't felt it. But now he's twelve it was coming
powerfully.



 Most times he will sleep and dream of what will happen to people
whether good or bad. A times he will pray about it but won't tell it
to whom it concerns.



This continues until, he dreamt that his mother will get an accident
if she traveled by air to a business trip.



 He was scared to tell the mother, he started sweating profusely in
his room on that fateful Wednesday morning, till the mother walked
into his room.




"Samuel what are you doing still on your bed"
She enquired?. The little boy made no sign of response.




"C'mon son, what's wrong talk to your mother, mummy is here for you"
she said, drawing closer to him.





Mum I always dream about what will happen to people any night I sleep
and most times I've witness them come to pass, two occasions was my
class mate and I failed to warned them because I was doubting it" he
explained.



"Oh! Son is like you've a great power to see vision through dream,
don't worry we shall discuss it when I'm back for my trip" She
concluded.


"No! Mum, I also had a terrible dream about you last night that's why
I'm sweating profusely when I woke up, I've been planning on telling
you mum" he opened up. This left Agnes in shock, she wanted to know
what her son dreamt about her.