Saturday, 3 March 2012

Sleeping Beauty

Step inside your soul
And see the wonders of the world.
The view of all humanity becomes a wondrous swirl -
A mass of contradictions
All engaged in hot pursuit
Of the meaning of existence
And of power and of loot.

Yet in this free for all
Hides a nature made of gold
A wealth of creativity
Of love and joy untold.
Buried in the abyss,
Neath the body’s hurt and pain,
Amidst the sheer perplexity
Dwells so much one can gain.

Lost in the mire,
Like an abandoned work of art,
Lies the flame that feeds the fire - within you.

Ignite Thy beating heart?


Copyright © 2012 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

Monday, 23 January 2012

The Family Cycle

A poem in celebration of Burns Night to honour the great Scottish poet Robert Burns.

{To be read in a heavy mock Scottish accent by non Scots}

Twas a cold, cold night.
A helluva hullabaloo.
There was a knock at the door
And a voice said:

‘Uncle, halloo!
How do you dooo!
You don’t know me -
I’m back from Peru.
I’m your sister Eileen’s
Illegitimate child.
I was sent away a while ago
When I began to run wild.
But now I’ve come back, you see,
And as everyone else is dead,
I’ve come to stay with you.
Will you nae show me ma bed?
I’ve brought you a present -
A wee little one…
Don’t look so startled…
It’s just my wee illegitimate son.’

 Copyright © 2012 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

Monday, 9 January 2012

The Glutton

‘Bring me a fig!
A fig!’ - she cried,
‘I long to feel a fig in my inside,
Sliding through my digestive tract.
Eating is such a wanton act.

Bring me a hot fried
Chinese spring roll!
I need it to fulfil my soul.
Some sweet and sour sauce wouldn’t go amiss...
Mmh! Delicious! Heaven! Bliss!

A feast! A feast!
I must have food!’
She was taught as a child
That it was rude
To leave any food upon her plate,
And so, she ate, and ate, and ate.

‘Eat to live -
If I don’t I will die.
Pass me a sausage.
Oh, and that last bit of pie.


Copyright © 2012 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

Tuesday, 3 January 2012


New Year! New Year!
It’s here! It’s here!
It’s come around once again
New friends 
New foes
New highs
New lows
New joy, and yes - new pain
New coat 
New boots
New dress
New shoes
Consuming more than ever
New bliss
New ills
New wage 
New bills
Live on! The never never
New game
New race
New hair
New face
The competition’s rife
New night 
New day
Same old
New way
You pay
No change
That's life.

Copyright © 2012 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

Friday, 16 December 2011


L  is for learning to live with the fact that without you there is no me

O is for opening up and allowing your heart a chance to see

V is for varying contradictions about the Lord above

E  is for ending the conflict within and surrendering to love

Copyright © 2011 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

Thursday, 15 December 2011

Trafvulgar Square

I lost my gloves in Trafvulgar square.
Bloody tourists milling around everywhere.
It’s not as if I put them down for long,
but I turned my back and they were gone.
I trundled back to the National Gallery
and spoke to their security.
An African gent who looked bemused
as I explained, remonstrated, ranted and enthused.
'Have you seen them? I was just in here,
I may have dropped them over there.'
He looked slightly peeved but still he smiled
and spoke to me as one would to a child.
He said: 'I haven’t seen them. Are you sure?
Please, look in your bag just once more.'
'Look. I know I’ve lost them.' Said I to he.
Still, I looked in my bag out of courtesy.
Can you believe it? I felt mortified.
There they were in my bag, and so - I lied:
'No. They’re not there, but thanks for helping anyway.'
I turned fast on my heels and scurried away.
I really hate Trafvulgar Square!
That’s the bloody last time that I go there!

   Copyright © 2011 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

Wednesday, 14 December 2011

Ego II. Something Is Wrong With My Ego.

Okay. So my ego’s in overdrive,
but I assure you, I don’t feel ill.
I’ve never, ever felt more alive,
though, my shrink begs I take a pill.
It’s far too easy for her to inject
her biased opinion on this subject.
And what with her constantly obsessing
methinks she may be projecting.
She sits there listening in her dispassionate way
to every little thing I say.
Waiting for me to drop myself in,
to her neat and tidy filing bin.
‘Yes. Textbook case. I can file you away.
This session’s now over. Come on, hurry up and pay’.
I can read your thoughts, you smarmy cow.
Whose ego’s slipping out of control now?
I don’t know why I bother coming here,
Your talk about ego and how ego is fear.
Me? Afraid? What am I afraid of?
My parents divorced but I had plenty of love.
Now you imply I’m insecure.
Why do I come here? I’m not even sure.
Oh yeh, it’s because I’ve become quite a bore.
Still, I don’t need you and your jumped-up cure.
My friends say I’m disruptive and attention seeking
but what they don’t know is, inside I’m shrieking.
Because, the mask I wear on the outside
is only there so that I can hide
the pain, the heartache and the crippling fact
that my whole life’s a sham, a display and an act.
I’m running out of energy, can’t keep playing this game,
I’m hurting myself and that wasn’t my aim.
I only wanted to try and fit in -
great job, fab clothes and a body model thin.
How was I to know when I had my first line of coke
that my life would turn in to this interminable joke
I looked in the mirror one day and it cracked.
Now it’s over. It’s finished. I don’t want to look back.
So yes, you were right, shrink, my ego is out of control
but you can put me back together. Come on! Let’s go!
It’s all rock and roll!!!

 Copyright © 2011 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved