Biography of Olufayo Ezekiel
The Poet and playwright Olufayo Oluwagbemiga Ezekiel is a current student of English Studies Department, Adekunle Ajasin University, Akungba, Akoko Ondo State of Nigeria.
He is known for his mastery use of simple language to bring Art works nearer to the masses. He is an existentialist, most of his works are pictured to illustrate the situation of beings in the universe.
He has many unpublished works, which includes; Barrenness, Night walkers e.t.c
In later years, He will be at the focal point of African literature.
Olufayo Ezekiel Poems
Let It Rain!
Let it rain! rain! rain! come around, for the dry land is crying, we dwellers are mourning.
Shameless she, Like a bitch dog on the street, Marketly, Olosho, the commercial body seller markets her body for gold.
Life; A Season
Life; a season, Time its misery, Everyday, it runs the circle of destiny. .
Claim My Name
Arewa, Claim My Name, 'Claim it! Yes! Claim it! ' I Arewa, give me your heart, 'Give me! Yes! Give me! ' I ask.
He who runs, Must never look back. He who relays against masquerade,
Omo Titun (A New Child)
Uwhan! Uwhan! Uwhan! Omotitun is here. a visitor to the world; sprouting out of womb,
The King At The African Market Square
All the king's heirs the crown suit, But only an head could crown the crown, So do not beef the one in crown, For only the heavens know why it befits him.
A half dull lunar rises on a mountain, Foes and monsters in rage.
An Ode To Awelewa
None of these years I came, Were the tender tunes of Omidan festival as high as this. None of my net-like glimpses of old,
In Rain; The Umbrella Leaks
On a hot sunny day; A pregnant woman In an endless journey, With a child clinging to her back,
Not From A Silver Spoon
I'v been fed all seasons, Through a spoon that straightens and bends to stand time's test. Not from a silver spoon,
An Ode To Your Majesty
Your majesty, The king of our homes, In praise, Our mouths, Sing your low name on high.
So sweet the tune And the active actions of the game. In his pride; love is good, but bed is best.
Hope Of The Twilight
I am a wood seller, with my knickers of myth, I move my planter, gold-mine I dont have, though every morning, I starve,
Hope Of The Twilight
I am a wood seller,
with my knickers of myth, I move my planter,
gold-mine I dont have,
though every morning, I starve,
still, I dont want the name robber,
divinity bestowed me an axe, am not a smuggler,
neither do I want to be a public wealth snatcher,
but don't think I am idle;
fate is the one giving me the topple,