Ikechukwu frank

  TOMORROW IS WATCHING By  Ikechukwu Frank  The night is loud with laughter, The streets glow like fireflies— Your heart races with the thrill of now, But tomorrow is already watching. Every choice a seed, Planted in secret soil, The soil of your life, Where your future will grow—or rot. That reckless kiss, That idle word, That borrowed thrill— They are architects of regret. The clock ticks, But you hear only the drum of desire. Pause. Look. Listen. Your future whispers in the wind: “I am fragile. Handle me with care.” The youth may dance, The youth may run, But the wise run with vision, And dance with destiny in mind. Do not let today’s fireworks Burn the bridge you will need tomorrow. The stars will fade, The laughter will quiet, But your life will remember Every moment you threw away Chasing shadows of pleasure. Rise. Choose. Build. Guard. Let your excitement fuel your dreams, Not destroy them.

  THE BADGE BETWEEN LAW AND CONSCIENCE By Ikechukwu Frank  Before the siren learned to scream, Before boots learned the language of fear, An idea was born in law and theory— Order standing guard over chaos, Authority designed to serve, not to dominate, Power meant to protect a nation’s sleep. From colonial shadows to sovereign sun, The Force marched through reforms and revolutions, Shaped by history, scarred by politics, Carrying both duty and inherited distrust, A legacy written in files, ranks, and commands. Ranks rose like ladders of control, Command flowed downward, obedience upward, Training grounds drilled discipline into flesh, Appointments signed by power, Yet accountability whispered by law. The Executive supervises, Parliament questions, The people watch with cautious eyes, For authority without oversight Is a river without banks— Certain to destroy its own path. You were created to prevent crime, Preserve peace, Protect life and property, Stand between the weak and ...

  BADGE NO BE LICENSE By Ikechukwu Frank  Who dey guard the road at night? Police! Who carry the badge and the gun? Police! But who guard the badge itself? Na the law—and the people! Police no be just uniform and siren, No be checkpoint and “park well”, E be idea wey law give body, Authority wey get boundary, Power wey suppose bow for justice, Not swagger for street. From colonial palava to independent hope, History train am with mixed lessons, Some from order, some from oppression, We inherit structure without healing, Uniform pass hand, But trust still dey queue. Command dey. Control suppose dey too. Order must flow, yes— But obedience without conscience Na danger with permission. Who dey supervise? Executive! Who dey question am? Parliament! Who dey feel the impact? The people! Because power without eye Go soon forget road. Una work na prevent crime, Keep peace, Protect life and property, Stand between weak man and mad violence, No be to turn citizen to suspect By default. ...

  SHE STAYED By Ikechukwu Frank  She met him on a morning wrapped in ordinary light, Not knowing that fate had scripts far too heavy for the heart. A car, a fall, a moment that shattered vertebrae C4 and C5— And from neck down, life became a cage of stillness. The world whispered, “Run. Leave. You cannot bear this.” Nine years, nine winters, nine thousand silent prayers later, She stayed. Her hands became his voice, her tears became his comfort, Her patience a cathedral of quiet courage. She learned the language of eyes, the cadence of heartbeats, The invisible threads that connect flesh to soul. Neighbours gossiped. Friends drifted. The world judged. Yet she carried no bitterness. Her love was a torch in rooms where darkness lingered. In the mornings, she combed his hair with gentleness, In the evenings, she read aloud the stories of hope, In the nights, she whispered, “I am yours. Always yours.” Not for duty. Not for fame. Not for pity. But for love—unyielding, unwavering, u...

  ASHES OF SONS By Ikechukwu Frank  The sky burned red with a mother’s wail, Land torn asunder, hearts grown frail. Biafra wept, and the world looked away, Children swallowed in the fire of day. My grandmother, strong as the morning sun, Saw four bright stars snatched, one by one. Her laughter turned hollow, her arms left bare, Echoes of footsteps vanished in despair. She walked through years with a silent cry, A queen of sorrow, yet she would not die. Each meal, each prayer, a battle fought, A life rewritten, her sons now naught. The market’s hum, the river’s bend, Every corner whispered lives that end. But in her eyes, the fire remained, A testament to love, and strength unchained. The war took sons, the war took peace, Left her world fractured, never to cease. Yet still she rose, though grief would cling, A mother without sons, yet a lioness in spring. And we remember, so none forget, The silent tears, the blood, the sweat. Biafra’s children, scattered and gone, But  t...

  WHEN THE BELL MUST RING AGAIN By  Ikechukwu Frank  We came in uniforms too big for our fears, Books thin, dreams thinner, voices ignored. Broken chairs, cracked walls, mocked hopes— From rags, we sat at the back of the class, Learning not just maths, But how neglect feels. Yet in the dust of that classroom floor, A question rose: Must this be all? Then power arrived— Badges, prefect titles, loud laughter in corridors. Some climbed fast, forgot faster. From riches, they mocked, bullied, ruled with noise. What lifted them became their fall— Respect drained, trust collapsed, And the school learned how quickly honour Turns to rags when pride leads. Still, a few refused silence. We began the quest— Not for trophies, but truth. Why the abuse? Why the fear? Why the broken toilets, stolen lunches, And teachers tired of shouting into storms? Each step met resistance, Yet courage grew louder than excuses. Then we entered a strange place— A school where cheating was normal, Cruelt...

  NOT EVERY PULPIT WEARS A CROWN By  Ikechukwu Frank  Not every pulpit hides a crown, Not every robe is stitched with greed. Some hands are worn, some knees are scarred, Some shepherds bleed where others lead. You name a god of coin and stage, But paint all lamps with one dark brush. Yet many burn in quiet rooms, Their oil not fame, their fire not hush. There are men who break the bread Before they dare to break a word, Who tremble first before their God Long before a crowd has heard. Not all who speak of heaven’s hope Are merchants trading prayer for gold. Some bury sons, some bury dreams, Some preach because they were first consoled. You warn of wolves—and rightly so— For teeth exist where flocks are fed. But some have laid their lives right down And chose the cross, not sheep instead. You say true worship shuns the show; On this, we stand on common ground. But do not scorn the lifted voice Because a crowd is gathered round. For love may shout, and truth may sing, And f...

  THE DEFIANT PETAL By Ikechukwu Frank I am no soft echo of Nature, No gentle token to be admired or repeated. I am grown in dirt, in grime, in resistance— Not plucked from heaven nor cradled by seasons. I am born of struggle, not of Spring’s gentle kiss; I thrive in storms, in frost, in the fire of neglect. Summer does not pamper me, Autumn does not rock me to sleep. At dawn I make no announcement; At dusk I give no farewell to the sun. I do not dance for wind or songbirds; I sway only because I exist, stubborn and unbending. The plains may forget me, the air may ignore my scent; I need no applause, no witness, no admiration. I take from the soil what it offers, And give nothing in return but defiance. I am no lover’s token, no wedding wreath, No memory of fleeting happiness, No consolation for grief. I claim my own joy, bear my own sorrow, And answer to no one. I look not only to light, But to shadows, to cracks, to the unseen places. Wisdom is not in flattering the sun; It is in...

Ten practical and wise things a girl should do to enter school and finish successfully in peace, without unnecessary trouble.  1. Set a Clear Purpose for School A girl should know why she is in school—education, skills, future opportunities, and personal growth. When purpose is clear, distractions lose their power. Purpose keeps the mind focused when temptations arise. 2. Choose Friends Carefully Friends can make or break a school journey. Keep company with people who value education, discipline, and good behaviour. Avoid friends who are always in trouble, disrespect authority, or pressure others into bad choices. African adage: “Show me your friend, and I will tell you who you are.” 3. Maintain Personal Discipline Discipline means knowing when to say no—to laziness, immorality, lateness, cheating, and unnecessary drama. A disciplined girl protects her time, body, reputation, and future. 4. Respect School Rules and Authorities Rules are not meant to punish but to protect. Respect t...

  THE NIGHT THE DRUMS REFUSED TO STOP In Oke-Ayé, silence was never empty. Even at midnight, something always breathed—crickets, distant generators, the old silk-cotton tree whispering secrets older than the road that cut the village in two. But on the night the drums refused to stop, silence fled entirely. They said magun had been set. Everyone said it differently. Some whispered it into wrappers pulled tight around their chests. Others said it boldly, as though courage could protect them. Children learnt the word without knowing its shape, only its fear. Magun was not just a charm; it was a sentence passed without a court. Kúnlé returned that evening with city dust on his shoes and laughter still learning to fit his mouth. He had left as a boy and come back a man, with a phone that glowed like a second sun and a confidence that unsettled old walls. He hugged his mother long and promised to stay. He greeted elders with bent knees and wide smiles. When he saw Morẹ́nikẹ́, the laught...