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 </div><p>A student at the Yaba College Of Technology (YABATECH), Olajuwon Joseph Olumide, has won the August Edition of the BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST (BPPC) 2015 which was themed <a title="CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 [AUGUST]" href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/call-for-submissions-brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2015-august/" target="_blank">“I AM THE CHANGE”</a>.</p>
<p>The Mass Communication student’s poem ‘I SEE A CHANGED MAN’ narrowly beat ‘I AM ME XII’ by Ajise Vincent (88%) and ‘I AM THE CHANGE’ by Uche F. Okpara (87%) to first runner-up and second runner-up positions.</p>
<p>Olumide, a native of Ogun State, Nigeria, is an ardent writer, known for his researches into English Language Grammar and Literary Studies</p>
<p>In 2014, he won the ‘WHAT CAN WORDS DO? Facebook poetry contest.</p>
<p>Judges evaluated the entries based on structure (harmony of words, presentation, etc), Creativity/Originality, and Relevance to the chosen theme.</p>
<p>Olumide is now the 7th winner of the BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 (BPPC) and he takes over from <a title="BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015: ADEDAYO ADEYEMI AGARAU’S ACHEBE TRIBUTE WINS JULY EDITION" href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2015-adedayo-adeyemi-agaraus-achebe-tribute-wins-july-edition/" target="_blank">Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau</a> who won the <a title="CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 [JULY]" href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/call-for-submissions-brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2015-july/" target="_blank">July Edition of the CONTEST</a>.</p>
<p>A cash of N5,000 will be awarded to him, while all the poems in the TOP 10 category will be automatically entered for the ALBERT JUNGERS POETRY PRIZE 2015.</p>
<p>Below are the TOP 10 entries with marks obtained:</p>
<ol>
<li>I SEE A CHANGED MAN… by Olajuwon Joseph Olumide (90%)</li>
<li>WHITE CALABASH by Jacobs Adewale (89%) [DISQUALIFIED FOR EXCEEDING 30 LINES LIMIT]</li>
<li>I AM ME XII by Ajise Vincent (88%)</li>
<li>I AM THE CHANGE by Uche F. Okpara (87%)</li>
<li>IF I WAS ALMIGHTY by Adigun Olushola Clinton (86%)</li>
<li>I AM THE CHANGE by Onwa Franklin Chukwuemeka (85%)</li>
<li>I AM THE CHANGE by Madu Chisom Kingdavid (84%)</li>
<li>THE BEACON OF CHANGE by Don Promise Omorodion (83%)</li>
<li>AFTER WE DIE by Abiola Inioluwa Oluwaseun (82%)</li>
<li>A PARASITE RUNNING WILD by Emmanuel Etim Essang (81%)</li>
</ol>
<p><strong>I SEE A CHANGED MAN… by Olajuwon Joseph Olumide (90%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>O’er the years that I weeded vices through my lips with satire<br>
Like I’m no flesh, acclaiming myself – a hallowed messiah;<br>
A sage prophet that I feigned, a braggart in fuzzy vision –<br>
Yes! That drunken state of my folly, woe be unto its deception!</p>
<p>While mere mortal deeds soured my heart, I had cast a stone<br>
Till I saw a true man of justice above, seated on His throne.<br>
Light up that hour, let my deliverance canon in the air boom<br>
That my soul might transcend beyond vain trance of my past doom!</p>
<p>Like a ray, heavenly vision pierced cataract of my impeded insight,<br>
Projecting the parable of a prophet of doom before my timid behold<br>
Who belched belligerence at folks of a spherical cosmos, shredded apart!<br>
But what seemed more irreparable – his sullen heart; he failed to scold.</p>
<p>And though he could unravel every uncanny scribe of ages on the wall,<br>
On the field of his implacable mind, viable seed of love was nipped!<br>
…Imperiously hurling scathing pebbles – ‘change thy horrid ways’, he ranted!<br>
Ne’er would he notice his brutality, starring at him via the world’s mirror.</p>
<p>How a supposed lamp to mortal feet in an obscure world turned fire that scorched!<br>
Prior to the reckoning day, had not he evoked hell on earth to judge?<br>
Thus, see the accusing finger up there, tingling the nucleus of my conscience;<br>
And my impetuous mind, cautioned by the reverberation of its insightful voice:</p>
<p>”Though the sons and daughters of Adam are damn desperate!<br>
And yes! Their blood boils beyond the queer temperate;<br>
Hath thou not lavished cowries of abhorrence in their imperfect market<br>
Where just a token of charity could be a barter of making it perfect?</p>
<p>Unlike that old prophet whose undone sacrifices contorted the face of God<br>
Ignoring the altar of brotherly reconciliation – the image of Whom he could see;<br>
The shackles of my doom, broken! Now, I can see a changed man in me<br>
On this hill of transfiguration, sounding gong of change to the ears of the world!</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>WHITE CALABASH by Jacobs Adewale (89%) [DISQUALIFIED FOR EXCEEDING 30 LINES LIMIT]</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>I go numb munching thoughts of moons ago;<br>
A season our debacle had room to grow<br>
In a clan found before the sulky shore<br>
Of a greedy river that quenched thirst no more</p>
<p>Brawny black Iroko of our wealthy woods<br>
Flanking, screening our borderline grudgingly fell<br>
Like a plucky pail drowning in a cluttered well.<br>
To survive we bartered our rules, our goods</p>
<p>When distant civilization dispatched deceit of gold<br>
Hidden in the belly of earth our ancestral homes hold:<br>
Divisive news that murdered altruism;<br>
Heads and necks lost union; poor communism-</p>
<p>It ceased to see the light of day.<br>
We could inhale the reek of ruinous fray<br>
Leaching from the heart of the town;<br>
Apathy had fed fat the crown</p>
<p>That saw gray counsels as empty barrel.<br>
Toothless natives stooped in their coliseum of hell,<br>
In surveillance as our gods became naked and homeless;<br>
Angry machines inhumed their pride- we were hopeless-</p>
<p>And buried in the sand the white calabash<br>
That sheltered our heritage from becoming trash.<br>
Ignominy! Ripe ignominy!! It engulfed all might;<br>
Who was drunk enough to caution the crown or start a fight?</p>
<p>I should return, I shall return to my land,<br>
Disguise a ransom- change – and defy the hand<br>
Wielding hegemony over ancestral toil<br>
That rooted our origin on harmonious soil</p>
<p>No! The crown must be free;<br>
My people need me,<br>
I am the ransom for our white calabash.<br>
And yes, I am the change.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>I AM ME XII by Ajise Vincent (88%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Yesterday, foes said,<br>
I’m the marrow of tomorrow<br>
shattered at the village square<br>
where dry skulls of fallen dreams<br>
are used as drums by blind beggars.</p>
<p>Friends said, I am the black smoke<br>
from the firewood of fate that was dispelled into oblivion<br>
to cling to void air of nothingness.</p>
<p>Even the elders said, I’m the forbidden nut<br>
rejected by the molars of the squirrel<br>
and must be banished to the evil forest<br>
to be immortalised by stale stones.</p>
<p>Then, I was treated like an aged mortar<br>
whose hymen was defiled by the pestle of time<br>
and yet did not gestate any good.</p>
<p>I was looked down upon like a barren hope<br>
whose dreams can’t germinate greatness<br>
even on the addition of fertilizers of patience and waters of grace.</p>
<p>But today, I’m the flute<br>
whose note whispers progress to the aspirations of drunk sluggards.<br>
I am the mellifluous requiem that exiles sorrows<br>
to the tomb where pain is embalmed forever.</p>
<p>I am the sieve of justice that separate shafts of lies<br>
from wheats of truth.<br>
I am the balm from care’s factory<br>
that relieve aches of warring-kings.</p>
<p>I am the present gestating in the clandestine uterus of today<br>
so as to procreate a better tomorrow.<br>
I’m simply me.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>I AM THE CHANGE by Uche F. Okpara (87%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Staring in the mirror on the wall<br>
I couldn’t ask if I was the fairest of all:<br>
For months unending I have had my doubts<br>
Suffering episodes of mental bouts,<br>
Like there was a senate chamber full of voices in my head<br>
All shouting and fighting for a chance to be heard.<br>
I struggle to be on the part of the inference<br>
To be involved in what efforts made the difference.<br>
See, I am that black African boy who surpassed the norm,<br>
Who was taught never to forget where he came from.<br>
So I made the heavens my starting point while the earth shall be my limit<br>
Navigating my interest to design my fate the way I dim fit.<br>
I am the odd one in the range<br>
Hence I stand out to be the change<br>
Born from the cathecasis of metamophorsis<br>
Defying the laws of limitation and all its forces.<br>
For now I am sired in a foreign land<br>
Every bit a pride to my fatherland.<br>
A survivor of many mistakes of what it takes to make a whole<br>
Stirring alteration in places that have no good.<br>
Wondering, I stood before the mirror mumbling some lyrics<br>
Like though reciting to myself the laws of physics.<br>
So I asked, mirror mirror on the wall,<br>
Am I not the change after all?<br>
In convinction, I knew the change will come<br>
Not from nature or any form<br>
For it has taken bone and flesh<br>
And I am the change come afresh.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>IF I WAS ALMIGHTY by Adigun Olushola Clinton (86%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>If I was God,<br>
I’d tear open the chest of men,<br>
cleanse their blood and put a new heart in them.</p>
<p>I’d peel hatred off our women’s skin<br>
and adorn them with the furs of a goddess-being.</p>
<p>If I only was the Creator,<br>
l’d etch love on our children’s heart and tongue<br>
that they may speak goodness all life long.</p>
<p>I’d write verses of sacred truths<br>
on the heads of our youths<br>
that humanity<br>
might feed fine from future fruits.</p>
<p>If I was Almighty,<br>
I’d fade colours off human’s skin<br>
that white and black might see each as the other’s kin-<br>
none would be maid, neither be king.</p>
<p>Alas!<br>
I am but a small god<br>
and I can only change our world<br>
right from mine.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>I AM THE CHANGE by Onwa Franklin Chukwuemeka (85%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>I’m sorry I don’t want to be a president,<br>
I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone,<br>
I want to love, give and live for everyone,<br>
I want to bury this pressing dent.</p>
<p>Please, don’t make me fight the dancing wind,<br>
I’d rather not challenge its whirling song,<br>
No, not because I can’t stand its wing,<br>
But for it has done nothing wrong.</p>
<p>Twist my tongue till it burns to purple,<br>
Drill me farther from my white to brown,<br>
Not until my song finds a couple,<br>
I’ll fight on till I sight a crown.</p>
<p>No competitor takes a bribe to win a contest,<br>
The victor knows better not to quit,<br>
All tribes must align for this tasty conquest,<br>
If we must eat from victory’s meat.</p>
<p>It’s so easy to break the rules,<br>
But how possible is it to pick the pieces?<br>
I want to doubt my semi-gold rules,<br>
Till I behold how true your praise is.</p>
<p>In this time, evil abounds,<br>
I am called to set things right,<br>
To halt the clock, no roundabouts,<br>
In life’s trade, to be the light.</p>
<p>I am the trader, who has enough,<br>
I try so much to look less rough,<br>
So after each trade and tough exchange,<br>
I return a piece of me as change.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>I AM THE CHANGE by Madu Chisom Kingdavid (84%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>I’m the Change brought into the spinal navel of Power<br>
By wilt-tubers dodging the fingered mists of sixteen-Saharan seasons,<br>
Feeding from the pillages and spillages of cold camwoods,<br>
Needing teeth of warm sunlight to cleave the fangs of deadwoods.</p>
<p>I’m the Change, {s}he who must perch on a pedestal pew<br>
Must not test positive in corruption laboratory.<br>
That’s why the goats are ripening their legs into exile<br>
Lodging in havens afar off, vomiting communal yams eaten ages long.<br>
Now yams stored in the foreign barns are now ‘returning’ home.</p>
<p>I’m the Change brought into the spinal navel of Power<br>
By yellowed youths with hushed hopes under the bridges<br>
And gaunt guardians of unheard urchins peeling in sweet slums.<br>
To cure Power-miscarriages, exile long queues in F-stations<br>
And to offer breaths to deaths that our mortuary-roads have sprung.</p>
<p>I’m the change that has come to bring back the girls from the oxters<br>
Of sambisa and to freeze the flame-fists of the sambisa beasts.<br>
Ah! But each day, bullets and bombs rain on us from the beasts,<br>
R.I.P-squeezing souls back to ashes in unripe scenes?</p>
<p>Do not call me yet, ‘The Harbinger of Snailage-ism’ or ‘Baba Go Slow’.<br>
For I’ve been moving into the deep clouds to fetch the smiles of rainbow.<br>
Moving in a feline grace to erase the cottoned hazes hanging on<br>
The frame of our looted image mirroring Klep-loot-omania-cracy.<br>
Soon the sweet songs of September showers shall greet our ears?</p>
<p>I’m the Change, but I can’t carry alone the spirited corpse of this nay-tion.<br>
So all the parallel lines must meet and agree at the funeral of our failures,<br>
To bury our sour scrolls of war and ethnic demons in a<br>
Catacomb deeper than Hades; welcoming a sunborn of Green Home.</p>
<p>If not, sunset will sit in-between the eyeballs of our daybreaks,<br>
And we’ll become torn shadows groping in the pant of dusk, endlessly.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>THE BEACON OF CHANGE by Don Promise Omorodion (83%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>For my silence is become treason<br>
Amidst the battling tempest.<br>
The cancer of depravity looms<br>
Within the stuttering tongue<br>
Sipping into the pores of virtue<br>
I beheld the murder of merit<br>
Strung along the gallows of decadence<br>
But my lips are cleaved by fear<br>
My actions slurred to the fight head on<br>
I am become what i abhor<br>
For though my ship is chaste<br>
The water i sail on, is tainted<br>
For we wait, in earnest, for the messiah<br>
He that bears the beacon of change<br>
We grow grey in wait and faint in virtue<br>
For what we seek lies within our breathe<br>
A plague spread when unchecked<br>
But i hold the sceptre of change<br>
My deeds are firm in merit<br>
In a ranging world of deceit<br>
My speech bears the arsenal<br>
Speaking against the wiles of corruption<br>
I am one but my words are a thousand pellets of positivity<br>
Like a flint, am undeterred by peer rejection<br>
For the little spark of revolution<br>
Will ignite an inferno of change</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>AFTER WE DIE by Abiola Inioluwa Oluwaseun (82%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>This wailing silence treading through our marrows;<br>
The songs of mediocrity hung on slaughtered dreams;<br>
These songs are the wrongs which will never embrace our rights<br>
Until the heart of corruption is lured to death<br>
By the whispers of serenity.</p>
<p>We have wandered off the strokes of progress,<br>
Hiding behind terrified shadows of hypocritical minds<br>
As bones of our patriotic brothers<br>
Stand on the corridors of doom, to welcome more souls<br>
Perishing by the sword of ignorance.</p>
<p>Our curses are counted on the weary facade of our mothers,<br>
And our tears are not comforting enough to console our dying wishes.<br>
These tattered skulls won’t stop being heroes of oblivion,<br>
And our hope will die each time our thumbs are slain by ignorance.</p>
<p>More dreams shall be aborted by each thrust of fear<br>
Until we silence this raging storm.<br>
We can erupt the confidence dying in marrows of blacks;<br>
We can fight till death becomes weary of slaying sacred souls.</p>
<p>The scars of corruption seem too deep for us to survive,<br>
But we are warriors, longing to hear the voice of freedom.<br>
Let the orphans rise with the strength<br>
Of the fading memories of their beloved,<br>
Let the mad men fight with the weapons of insanity<br>
Until sanity returns with our staff of liberty.</p>
<p>Let our bones be buried in your memories after the war,<br>
But we pledge by our fathers, that even in death,<br>
You all shall remember us from the eyes of change.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>A PARASITE RUNNING WILD by Emmanuel Etim Essang (81%)</strong></p>
<blockquote><p>I am come; I, the One whom you seek,<br>
I am now come unto you…<br>
I hail not from the dusty dunes of Daura,<br>
Otuoke’s speedboats creeks my imagination, but<br>
to the thirty-six kingdoms and their provinces is my life-source strung;<br>
I breed in lands unmapped, infecting voices that are but weeny whispers.<br>
I am come; I the One whom you seek.</p>
<p>I am come unto you,<br>
I will lord, not from the fiesty fortress of Aso Rock,<br>
I dwell not in ‘harrowed’ chambers painted food and blood, but<br>
into the soul of every man shall I spurt my seed,<br>
inside every artery, vein; as thoughts that to fro flow,<br>
from courtly luminaries to puff-puff pedlars who will walk against traffic;<br>
I am come; I, the One whom you seek…</p>
<p>I am come unto you,<br>
I seek not, the warmth of the worm-eaten umbrella,<br>
the broom’s busy brouhaha is the elégún festival;<br>
I long not for the holiness of the chartered cathedral,<br>
nor do I dance to the music that to Juma’at calls…<br>
I hear the whispering whisperers whisper: ‘olóríburúkú ni’ but<br>
I proudly smile at that odd worker of giant birds’ nests,<br>
I am come; I the One whom you seek…</p>
<p>I am come unto you,<br>
far spread my tentacles may be, yet none shall I abduct,<br>
a willing heart I only befriend,<br>
or blank slates in nests, and cots;<br>
I am the song your ancestors sang at the hunt,<br>
I stand unsoiled, pure and pristine<br>
a parasite running wild in your bloodstream.</p>
<p><em>*elégún – a Yoruba </em><i>masquerade</i><br>
<em>*olóríburúkú ni – she is unfortunate</em></p></blockquote>
<p><strong>JUDGE’S COMMENT:</strong><br>
<em>“In the August collection, the poets have soaked their pens in the inky arteries leading to the heart of change.The theme could actually be understood in two different ways. </em></p>
<p><em>C</em><em>hange could be considered as the actor of progress speaking in his own name. Or better still, the poets could see themselves as the force behind events, deciding to do their best to improve the situation and amend their ways.</em></p>
<p><em>In all cases, their profuse imagery and profound inspiration have conferred color and pungency to their poems.”</em><br>
<strong>— Brigitte Poirson</strong></p>
<p>The BPPC is sponsored by WRR CEO <a title="KUKOGHO IRUESIRI SAMSON" href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/kukogho-iruesiri-samson/" target="_blank">Kukogho Iruesiri Samson</a> in honor of Brigitte Poirson, a French poet and lecturer, editor who has worked tirelessly to promote and support of African poetry.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">NOTE: Submissions are being received for the BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 [AUGUST] on the THEME: <a title="CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 [SEPTEMBER]" href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/call-for-submissions-brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2015-september/" target="_blank">“I AM THE CHANGE</a>”</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong><a title="CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 [SEPTEMBER]" href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/call-for-submissions-brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2015-september/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO ENTER FOR THE SEPTEMBER EDITION</a></strong></p>

 
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