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A multiple award-winning poet and spoken word artist, Onwuasoanya Chika Tobi, has been announced winner of the March edition of the Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest (BPPC) themed ‘MAN AND RELIGION’.

Onwuasoanya, who is also a budding novelist and a Mechanical Engineering graduate, won the competition by a single point awarded for early entry after his poem, ‘THE PACT’ scored 87% to beat second placed ‘MY PASTOR HAS HALITOSIS’ by Williams O’Seun Alagba and third placed ‘ONE GOD, ONE CREATION’ by Emerald Friday Samuel, which both scored 86%.

Onwuasoanya is the Organizer of the ‘Swords of Words’ Spoken Word poetry competition in Federal University of Technology Owerri (FUTO), Imo state, the winner of ‘War of Words’ Season 2 Spoken word slam and 2nd-runner up in the Eriata Oribhabor Poetry Prize 2014.

“It was a great crop again, with very tight scores. The theme has really triggered inspiration once again.” ~ Brigitte Poirson

Below are the top 10 poems, with marks obtained:

  1. THE PACT by Onwuasoanya Chika Jones (87%)
  2. MY PASTOR HAS HALITOSIS by Williams O’Seun (86%)
  3. ONE GOD, ONE CREATION by Emerald Friday Samuel (86%)
  4. THE DANCE TO PIETY by Iwundu Wisdom (85%)
  5. REALLY RIDICULOUSLY RELIGIOUS by Abegunde Sunday (85%)
  6. HOLY MAN’S HYPNOTIC SHOW by Impact Ayobami Ogedengbe (84%)
  7. SAINT OR STAIN? by Kingsley U. Ayistar (84%)
  8. TELL GOD by Covenant Chimnonso (83%)
  9. THE PARADISE by Emuobome Jemikalajah (83%)
  10. BOW YOUR HEARTS by Akinbode Oluwatobi Israel (83%)

THE PACT by Onwuasoanya Chika Jones (87%)

When man first discovered that God,
was not between his legs,
He set out to find the diviner’s rod,
And fill his flesh bowl with cloud dregs,
The Nazarene walked the seas and earth,
He resurrected dead men and corneas,
He calmed seas and diseases of the earth,
Some say he rode on a donkey not an ass,
The man from Mecca walked the dry deserts of history’s pages,
Said five prayers to the one God,
And sought payment in the blood of cows for man’s wages,
Some say he put great faith in a starving man’s word,
The cross legged man wouldn’t hurt a fly,
He sat prone for eons, searching for the still blade,
With which he could split open the bowels of the sky,
Some say he sat so still, he became stone and began to fade,
When they met on the hills, between here and there,
They shared a hug, a laugh and a mat,
And made a pact, of who, what, when and where,
And gave Agape the keys to world and man.

MY PASTOR HAS HALITOSIS by Williams O’Seun (86%)

Be it caused by unsuspectable perfidy and lying
or from dining on rains of grains of dishonest gains
seeds not ‘sown’ but actually stolen
thro’ hypnotising unwary congregants’ hearts
and enthralling the unsuspecting pew’s minds
Like a gallant horse blighted with Zygomycosis
my pastor has halitosis.

Maybe thanks to bouts of shantoribobo abracadabra
being master of onomatopoeia, pun and paronomasia
or from surreal visions and fictitious, fictive fantasies
of unseen, unreal phantasm and moving fantasia,
Like the noisome durian fruit
my pastor has halitosis.

Maybe, it’s of a divine cause
induced due to our humble supplications
to the Prime Mover, the First Cause
But the Supreme Divinity does no evil!
Often, freely and wrongly, he’ll superpose theurgy
on theology, saying “All is possible with faith!”
Yet, despite countless visions, he never saw this coming—
My pastor has halitosis.

Yes, I know the germ theory of disease
But does not everything have a divine cause
as he compellingly preaches each Dominicus?
Then, maybe true to nemesis or for poetic justice,
without hiatus, he’s got a metaphysical bad habitus
My pastor has halitosis.

ONE GOD, ONE CREATION by Emerald Friday Samuel (86%)

Resting my weary self under the shade of a fruit tree
Above me a plethora of leaves adorned with abundance of fruits
I closed my eyes in awe as I felt the gentle breeze
And in a moment, it seemed as though I was in a trance
For I could hear the fruits speaking distinctly
Debating on how their wellbeing came to be;
How the nutrient is being sourced for and fed to them.
Some adored the branch on which they hung
Some argued that the stem be revered
Some pledged allegiance to the leaves.
Whilst they strive to prove their points,
I saw what none of them could see;
Buried beneath where I sat is the tree’s root that nourishes them all.
My eyes opened again and I was brought back to reality
A world where men still fail to reason alike,
That beyond the crescent and the cross
Is one true God who created all.

THE DANCE TO PIETY by Iwundu Wisdom (85%)

Around the glen of piety wanders man
Under the scorch of its rays, he craves a tan
Savoring the redolence of its incense
And to its flame, makes himself a devout fan

An abysm of creeds, a gulf of nonsense
Sermons of peace, yet a pamphlet of violence
Man and Religion; perfume on a casket
An ungraved casket, a fort without defense

On the concourse of his thought stays a gasket
To pin him to pious rules, as its mascot
Through smogs of Religion, man flies with wings shut
Soon, surely, to fall or get caught in its net

Religion, a needless want; Man, the stale glut
Pirouetting to its rhythm, swaying his butt
And bathed in the pinafore of its smut
O, when will Man, in his folly, stop this strut?


Religion is a gifted bag of goodies to humanity.
It heals man’s ignorance about acts and art of divinity
Yet, we have ignorant maddened men who prefer peril to peace
By totally misconstruing reality of tranquillity that religion teaches.
So now I know of these radical men who are really ridiculously religious.

True religion is bravery as a lion shoved
With the true gentleness of the turtle dove.
How then do these Boko men get us pissed us peace
As their kind of peace breaks fellow human bodies to pieces?
I tell you these radical men who are really ridiculously religious.

They’ve sleeted throats in the name of ‘Allah’
Thinking themselves as saints when they’re slaughterers.
How intoxicating than all liquor, I’ve ever heard or ever seen
Is that their drunkenness in religious madness is not tagged sin
So now I know of these radical men who are really ridiculously religious.

The keenness of your fanaticism and extremism
Stings the very heart of our men, women and children
Like venomous adder-mentored scorpion does your havoc seem.
O’ dear Bokos, God’s true word for you is that you love thy brethren.
I tell you, you’re but radical men who are really ridiculously religious.

HOLY MAN’S HYPNOTIC SHOW by Impact Ayobami Ogedengbe (84%)

Dressed in blood praying to the Lord
Fortified with charms mishandling the sword
Killing for pleasure feeling no remorse
Beautified disguised devils of the cross.

Inhuman to the core, the Lord cries
Men whose heaven lies between juicy thighs and tithes
Instead of spreading knowledge, it’s deceit they spread
Religion misinterpreted, the book they’ve wrongly read.

Today, they parade themselves as God’s own oracle
But His rules and ordinances they refuse to follow
And all in the name of breakthrough and miracle
They deceitfully send people to the death hollow.

Some have made themselves earthly deities
Blindfolding worshippers to spiritual realities
Some baptize ladies with libidinal secretion on weekdays
And still take to the lectern on Sundays.

To justify themselves, they defend their fleshy lust
By supporting what they know to be totally wrong
In fact, their stand on religion is so strong
Oh! religion misinterpreted, humanity is being lost.

Who will save humanity from this hook?
Souls are dying with their erroneous book
Why won’t religion be taken for a clown
When their deceits have worn a crown.

All I know is that hell is real
And unrepentant souls will be its meal
Nemesis will equally catch up with wrongful deeds
When it’s time to separate the weeds from the seeds.

SAINT OR STAIN? by Kingsley U. Ayistar (84%)

Who marches on with virtues vain
Amongst the saints with fleshly strides,
Daubbing himself a spotless man
With colours fit in his own eyes?

Who bags heart as hearse for curses,
Truth-barren tongue rooted in mouth,
Love stuck in lips but banned in deeds,
Yet trusts name on the Life-leaved Book?

Who has pride pinned in boasting breath,
And plucks respect with riches won
From offerings heaved and tithes raked,
But his flock, in soup, abandons?

Shall he with vestment of deceit,
His sword for profit scabbarded,
Racing astride on reckless zeal,
The ditch of damnation evade?

Judge yourselves ye as Christians famed,
But robe of Adam’s nature put:
Saint or stain? Ye who call Him, ‘Lord’;
Do you stand firm with clayey foot?

TELL GOD by Covenant Chimnonso (83%)

Dear mister I-Know-God-Too-Well,

When next you whisper words into his majesty’s ear,
Do not fail to mention that your private jet costs the life savings of
your congregation.
Please tell him, when next you converse in low tones,
That when I was hungry,
You placed your manicured hands upon my head
And cast out several demons of hunger
Without bothering to offer me bread.
Tell God that I slept hungry that day.

Mister teacher, yes you!
Tell the one who lives beyond the clouds,
And sees even our darkest of hearts;
Tell him of Baga, of Bornu, of Chibok;
Of Maiduguri.
Tell him of our daughters lost to religion;
Of our brothers slaughtered on the streets of Niger.

Tell the big gu above of our escapades with death,
Of our beheaded fathers, mothers, sisters;
Of the charred torsos that litter the now deserted roads.

And please, don’t forget to tell him;
That many were slain, branded infidels,
And roasted in his name.
Tell God that assassins now roam,
Bearing his emblem, wielding his armour.

Please, when next you see God, ask him this:

“What the hell is religion? “

THE PARADISE by Emuobome Jemikalajah (83%)

Who with mind as feeble a man,
Could fathom the beauty that was home;
Where the first man and first woman
Were left by our dear creator to roam.

Bright throughout the season,
A garden with lush meadows and streams pure,
With magnificent walls, beautiful and brazen.
And estate complete with great allure.

But God left man with just a word;
Never to taste the tree of good and evil
Lest be banished from paradise, barred with a sword.
But there was one not happy – the devil.

So man failed the simple test.
And now we pay the steepest cost,
For our souls never again will find rest
Until we regain paradise we have lost.

BOW YOUR HEARTS by Akinbode Oluwatobi Israel (83%)

Bow your hearts, not the head.
Bend your knees, not our lives,
Let life sleep soundly on her bed,
Leaving freely her seeds on her shelves.

Take the Holy book not as a tale,
Read between its lines every alphabets,
Then you will learn to fill man’s pail,
Without a lash from your belts.

You kill, you steal, you destroy,
Only the devil I knew had that fame,
You conclude you are in God’s coy,
A fight to raise His name?

You’ll one day take a bow from life’s stage,
Will applauses escort you?
Or silence with full rage?
You’ll only get one of the two.

Samson Oluwatoyin, a student of the Ladoke Akintola University of Technology (LAUTECH), Ogbomosho, Oyo State, Nigeria, won the February edition of the BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015

Enter for the April edition of BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST, themed “WIND OF CHANGE” here.

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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