A Dedication to Graciano Enwerem on his birthday

By the Figures

Courtesy of Figures of Speech headquarters


When it’s a birthday, there are baths, then births. Then what? Many decide to celebrate by cutting cakes and blowing candles representing a quarter of their present age[s], but that only shows that one is growing. 

However if one is not only a poet but an influential being, an extra spice is added so as to avoid the cliche, “happy birthday.”

This is what figures did, Graciano is not just any poet, he’s a teacher, public speaker, to mention but a few. 

Because your passion is to build this art so tirelessly, spending too many nights trying to impact lives across Africa by sharing your skill, allow us to say happy birthday in this way.

Figures thought it wise to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY in this manner, please accept it. 

To Graciano Enwerem 
Grasping whispery winds,

Rendering the world it’s tender.

Rummaging through words to play;

Reaching out to pull others along

And being an exceptional being.


To God,

For the gift of Graciano. 

To Prudence, 

For the great idea and compiling. 

To Becky,

For the awareness. 

To Charlotte, 

For compiling and editing. 

To Lambert,

For the book cover graphics. 

To the figures,

Who submitted and made this possible. 

This story started with Chemistry,

Oblivious of any kings in history.

Assembled were elements of artistry.

In blank pages was this story.
This story started with pheromones,

Tickling each inch of body hormones,

Noses sniffing and looking for where they’d call homes,

Something above our very smoothly refined norms.
This story started with a word,

Letters floating in air like a visually impaired bird,

On a scrambled piece of paper, now blurred,

Eventually landing onto one mighty bard.
This story started with a birth,

A few moments after mama had taken her late evening bath,

A baby found its way in her girth,

Mama obeyed his cry, his was worth.
This story started with a lone realm,

This story started with Enwerem. 

This story started with an inferno,

This story started with Graciano. 
(c) Charlotte Akello


Tear in the body of the robes with voices of trumpets

To crown the head of the peaceful lion

And construct on its back seventy origami of patriotism

To mark seventy moons swirling above his tusk

And seventy suns seeking smiles on his footprints.
Feather your fears and leave them in the air.

Pluck your worries and give them rest 6ft in the earth.

Pick a raffia of happiness and let it curl around your waist.

Dance and thud the earth like raging triumphant chariots

And hold the glittering glee of this day on your cheeks

Like the sun holds Greeneries in the dwellings of December.
The drums should let out their deep groans

And the dancers should plant their feet on the soil

To reap bountiful ripened smiles from your face

And feed the world with your sweetness and humility

As we stand under the arms of the tree of honour and admiration

To count the grains of your poetic works, humanitarian services

And legendary acts you’ve left on the face of the world

Like tribal marks taking possession on the cheeks of an ijebu man.
Take a little water, a little salt, a little flavour of honey

And mesh them into the vase of your fine heart

For you’re new as the morning drops of dew

And full of sweetness like the sinew of a ripe cashew.

Stand upright to the stares of these running letters

For they are only a voice hidden behind the wishes

Of a young cub to a lion in the gathering of a pride.
(c) Nome Patrick



The greatest wordiator 

I have ever known.

He who quills words like a predator,

Disowned by his very own.
In his goggles i see wisdom-

building its own kingdom,

For a virtuoso is he who writes

to right the wrongs in bites.
I see figures counting speeches,

In his giggles the show of twisting-

Twisters-twisting tongues

that hold no guiles in them

but artistic splendor.


There may never be

a second night

You sneaked into the limbo of time,

Maybe not a form of hatred in your heart;

Whether the rat rises well or not,

Once you rise well, the deed is done.

A ‘wordiator’ you are,

Just like you are a repository of words;

Words are repository of you.

Your ink dried long ago

but you are still a worder

and thus the night echoed the morning,

The morning broke away from darkness,

Graciano came forth like the penguin’s eggs;

I shall construct a castle of words

as an eternal monument for thy birth.



That’s the sound of my Mazarati.


Google that,  and it’s a dictionary sound of my tires,


That’s the roar of my pet lion.


Is the sound that follows when we call the literary Knight Grrrr.
Now let build my house, my story…
Sirrrr Grrrrr the great Knight was born today. 

The lion roars in the wild for this giant Sirrrr Grrrrr. 

Surely he deserves a vrrrr with skrrrt skrrrt skrrrt

but all he will get is the sound of rhymes and lines in our poetry. 
Happy Birrrrrrrr Brrrrrroooo!!!!!! 
©Aaron Kayondo

GRACIANO (Acrostic)
Glee glittering greetings to the gong that gives

Resounding and sonorous flavour to words.

Akeregbe that’s filled yet echoes mukulu-muke!!!

Creaming the hearts of the bored and so slips them

Into the oblivion of their grief and sorrow.

A sweet and happy birthday wishes to Graciano;

Near gale of destruction that sweep the woes

Of humanity- with their seen and hidden foes.
Ayeyemi Taofeek (ASWAGAAWY)

The toothpick that walks like a man.


Akeregbe: Barrel 

Mukulu-muke: sound for singing and dancing stride.

A legend is older today,

A god of poetry 

if I must lay plain,

A figure I wish to behold someday.

If the wishes casted upon stars are real,

Then I wish

to steer the wheels of poetry

like sir grrrrr

even if its for a day.

His voice creates a harmony,

Beseeching butterflies

to come and play.

Grrraciano’s wisdom is a fragrance

which beckons on people stay,

Characterized by a knowledge

so deep, 

It can’t be explained.

A man  

whose love for God

is set for all to see,

The title 

a man after God’s heart

suits him

if I must say. 

A very sincere

happy birthday,

I wish him today.


For you on this big day

To fertilise a dream long cherished

and satiate hearts long famished

is like wooing a lady pretty but vain;

to coax stratus into spitting out rain.
Both never beyond reach of a crafty mind.

The former costly but a pretty easy find;

the later first elusive; yet easier with time:

all ductile if wily kneaded not into chyme.
Your mind actuated this theatre of swotting,

a clique of clans cleaved to the mine of words.

Whether coaxed or wooed into the den of learning,

can’t they be tacitly labelled your wards?
Happy birthday boss
Charles Duncan(Chechyn)


i begin with his lips, 

a lake of fire running though

to break his tongue into a city of waters

the sun in his eyes are memories

burning his soul into a poem

of bakassi boys and biafran children

drizzling like unkempt rain
this man is a song

on the lips of earth mothers

he is an ode for other boys

leaving the path of silt

for the lushes of green

he is an ode for bare-chested children

running after their threaded kite

like their father, running after old dreams
a song is never enough

to say all the heart has

but a poem,  a mild as it may be, 

is for singers too

(c)Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau- Nigeria

( a free verse For Graciano Enwerem)



Birds and birds of the airy air 

will fly your name above the sky,

Above hills and mountain tops, 

Above the towers of Tokyo tree,

mounting their wings 

for you on every stop.


the night will host a stunning banquet 

for a star in broad daylight 

with the sun watching from a far as a monitor.


Trees and flowers will paint their limbs 

and petal heads with their best colours, 

minty leaves and flowery scents.


At the sound of gunpowder in lightening and thundering tones,

Rains will prostrate to signal a reminder,

For today a star was born in the sky many years ago 

when squirrels and mice lived on hills and valleys.
He, whose first cry was an ode,

Who scribbled his first poem 

on the walls of his mothers womb,

Today, pens will ejaculate 

at the sight of your gracious virgin name,

For many are called but few are chosen.

The night has gone missing.

Today, the day will stand in for the night 

to watch over you as you celebrate your birthday in style, 

for we are high flyers.

I pray your pregnant wishes give birth to multiples after today.

Happy birthday.
© Ezekosiso


Happy birthday
The breaking waves dashed high

on a stern and rockbound coast

and the stormy sky against woods

of merry mahoganies and rosewoods.
The crescent moon hung bright

over the hills, streams and oaks;

A mellow lad slept under the moon

With anticipation throughout the noon.
Over the lake the chirping birds sang

and across the globe gathered our hurray,

We shook the depths of the cities fair

with our hymns of lofty cheer.
Happy birthday to you with love and grace,

Happy birthday to you Graciano!!!!!!!
Abdulnasir (Nas)

Yellow Flash

(To a secret mentor)
In a lovely trance my eyes beheld

Gracious Graciano without a cap.
And with a luminous smile 

apollo blesses his hands,

endowing his upstairs;

makes his muse succulent, 

adding to his pen more blood to be shed on a white man’s land.
His writings are gracious.

Seems like it comes from the name Graciano

were i tap inspiration if my muse overslept.
I woke with joy of the precious sight seen, 

covering my eyes from prying eyes.
They told me they love his cap

though my grandfather used such to support his rides sit.

It fits his personality but my bulgy eyes sought after the holy day he’s seen without a cap.

Will his baldness illuminate the atmosphere

or will the hair be likened to Wole Soyinkas’?
Let’s pray this special born day

the cap departs his head.

Not dethronement, but enthronement 

in the heart of we that see him as mentor. 

Let’s view a new look.

Happy born day.



From my wide wondrous heart,

I pour out wonderful wishes

to a great personality,

From the stream of words,

I pick out words of long life

garnished with lot of prosperity.

Just as the oceans have no end,

may your name remain forever even 

after leaving the earth toothless.

I celebrate you on your birthday!


Each time you walk

into the moon in our eyes, 

you print a muse on the sand of our hearts 

making us gatherers of dust. 
Dusts are the flakes of light shedding from your soul;

They are the other souls 

that are birth into poetic existence. 
Whenever you are to journey into dust,

know that it is a journey 

into familiar tales of memories

for those who make men into meaning 

make adjectives of fulfillment 

on their own dreams.


Happy Birthday Sir Graciano Enwerem.
(Elemide Benjamin)

You are value
The firefly 

born same night has died,

No one but you did cry.
Beauty engaged value,

Beauty lived,

Death met value.
Years later like tits;

Beauty died,

Value rose from ashes like Phoenix.
(c) Anadi Godwin


Haven dreamt of this day, meant for excitement,

I woke in glee’s sea;

Soaked in the joy of a foy,

My heart winked at its cage,

As my art ran to her page,

My hands swiftly crawled to its pen

as my ink like a boiling pot;

Spilled and squirmed, 

Screaming words tied to the cords 

of a man rocked by fervour and favour,

Of the ace and reason for my smiling face;

Of he who gives his best with zest;

Indeed Sir!

My heart would forever cluster in your solely soulful words.

(c) Benibo Eden


When I think of a great man,

I think of one with character,

whose love for others matters

more than grooming a tan.
I think of one who smiles

amiably in the face of difficulty;

One with no use for guiles

but for sensible use of faculty.
This man I think of rules

with words waging wars

in the minds of the corrupt.

He stands right for right.
In his heart, plenty are born,

On his pen, plenty are taught,

On his words, plenty are fed,

In his eyes, plenty are seen.
When I think of a great man,

I think of October Twenty Five –

The opening of the world to a life 

that many will dearly love and fan.
I think of a non sentimental man

who doesn’t call a goat ram.

His tongue whiplashes the lazy,

his love envelops the creative crazy.
When I think of a great man,

I think of October Twenty Five –

The day that bore this man,

Sir Graciano, the greatest for life.
© Ahanonu Christian Chiemezie



There’s a day of birth and there is a birthday;

A man yet to birth need not celebrate birthday.

When a sage celebrates new age, you must Sirlute

for it’s always a fun no one can dilute.
You don’t have to own motors to know God is Good;

Count your blessings, they’re more than 10…

and you’ll see that God is Good.

Graciano with only a will birthed FOS.
He’s not a Polish yet well polished; he’s a Pun-ish.

His style of pun-ishment has clinical finesse;

From comatose tomatoes to eyeseapeaseas,

Every word is a witness…
25 things I would have said

but with 25 lines I’m limited;

10 things I want to tell you

but I need 10 ten of me to tell you….
This shall I then say :

With the wisdom of Solomon,

You shall have the discipline of Joseph,

Garnished with the excellence of Daniel

and engulfed in the love of Christ.
Happy Birthday Sir Graciano.
(c)Iyanda Daniel



You are such an amazing person,

It’s not as if you’re trying to be, 

You just have the grace and charisma;

You put the word ‘awe’ in awesome,

You have a unique personality,

For you, ‘awesome’ and ‘amazing’ would collide to give me my ‘Awe-mazing’ Grrrr.
 You’ve been a tutor or should i say a mirror

through you i could picture my vision,

Seems like you believe in me than i do

and I’ll do anything to be a better version of me,

Your action of mentorship has awaken the lukewarms,

I dolph my hat boss.
© Abu Felicity



You will want to grrrrade me

by the multitude of muse that chase me,

Want to love me for my accent,

I’m sure you see it as an asset.

You may want to judge me by the hushes and the boos,

May want me to hang my boots thinking I’ve met waterloo,

Sure you’d love to have my cassette,

Love to hear me talk about life from a different facet.

But, isn’t this what we are here for?

To become ‘gods’?
 Say hi to the man with a Bachelor of Pun,

Bringing the truth out the open you’d swear it was porn,

Killing metaphors like I hated them all,

Way hotter than Summer and cooler than Fall.

They say greatness is a song I put myself on repeat,

Soak it in, I’m everything greatness and the future depicts.

Toby Abiodun


Once, I lost my muse

on the rail tracks that were nolonger in use;

By night, you were at my door, with a noose,

Ready to capture the cage and let my muse fly loose;

Crickets by the door saw it as an excuse,

Creeping into my ears with a fuss,

“He’s up to steal your muse,

He’ll strangle it with that noose, 

He’ll put you to use.”

The noise hit my eardrums like a burnt fuse,

I was trying to grasp my muse

but this time, it was of no use,

Choosing between what to refuse

or whom to amuse

I was back in the twisted noose…

You stepped in, with no [s]excuse;

No hues, just blues,

And lifted up my muse.
(c) Charlotte Akello



Like the sound one makes from having an electric shock;

His poems have what it takes to live you in the lurch

of amazement, I mean 12 million nonsense

made sense to all those with conscience.
When he speaks we dump all boring sighs;

‘His words will give you wings to fly ‘

above the niles so high like eight to nine,

I wish his round head were mine.
With his nerd like glasses

which he never wore to classes,

When he spits crisis;

Come on he ‘BOOed HARRY’.
He ain’t no lady so I won’t call him ‘omalicha’, 

Some ladies see him and say ‘ O manly charm’,

But enjoy it’s your day and keep calm;

He’s got poetry chilling in his palm.
When he grabs the mic, he speaks

like a privileged priest preaching peace;

To the north east I mean BOKO please;

Interestingly as he disses plagiarists,

They pay for their sins.
I love the way he treats some foes,

When I eat tomatoes,

With his sickly lyrics,

Unhealthy healthy critics,

It makes me sick

from my head ‘to ma toes’.
With his voice sounding like a town cryer,

Spitting harmless yoga fire 

and for his hair he needs a hand dryer,

They never give up ’cause he’s ‘a high flyer’.
(C)E.A Jeffrey_SAN


I watched Two tortises stride slowly

like a sly economy,

One younger,  the other wiser. 

The younger tortoise lurking

 in his  shell to dispel asked 

in his broken eyes “will I ever be wise? ”

The wiser tortoise replied with wits that could slit “yes,  try again and  it could get better.”
I watched two trees swinging swiftly 

with the sweet swats of the winds. 

One younger, the other taller. 

The younger tree swayed in a way that showed he could go astray as he asked,

With his bent bark like he would crack,  “will i ever be taller? ” to which the Taller tree answered “you’re good, don’t worry, it would be well.”
I watched two eagles  fly freely 

like the fleeting flight of time. 

One younger, the other stronger. 

The younger eagle swayed with fray fear that would betray as he asked “will I ever be stronger? “. 

The stronger eagle answered with a smile that drove every trail  away. 

” Don’t give up, we are high flyers”

Sir Graciano said those words

Prudence Emudianughe



It is yet another time 

to celebrate a great man.
It is yet another time

for love and  care to 

fly to someone with

great mission.
It is yet another time

to show GRRAtitude and

fly high with a high flyer.
©Lambert Gogo-ogute


Young god 
Artful man, wise in discernment,

Graceful head of the glorious figures,

A covenant high flyer seated on bees’ knees;

Muffling the mountains, 

Slamming slams, 

Bam- baming pebbles in bedrock, 

Trotting sleek sizzling sensational sybaritic speeches

to turn up the turbulence 

with trouble to tumble and topple topsy turvy

causing the company of heaven to swirl and sparkle in merry melodies. 
We say thank you,  

Thank you for you have sown bright seeds within our hearts, 

Created happiness and harmony amongst strangers.

Magnified our souls with generous words of dazzling beauty.

Cocooned us like butterflies in the confidence 

and charm of your juxtaposed limns and myriads of style. 
We are truly enriched and blessed 

by the boundless sublimity of your doctrines.

Great pedagogue of embellishing poesy.
We as a family, 

wave our flags and banners of grrr-atitude 

for there is no patron worthy.
May the orbs be your dower;

Gentleman of the renaissance,

Happy Birthday Sir Grrrr.
Dambo Lelegite


© 2016


That smile is captiving;

Your words are soothing;

Wisdom is what you give,

Knowledge is what I attain.

Friends are few

but families are many;

People like you are many, 

but you are you.
I am glad you are blessing us, 

Happy birthday mentor, 

Your mentee is growing.
(c)Juliet Grace


The sky will cry today,

The sun will blaze with fire,

today, many todays ago

a soul was conceived 

to walk the face of the earth

and dance to the drums of heart,

But touching the hand 

that beats the drum.
Happy Birthday to the leg that walks

on sand and turns to moments.

That when he is long gone,

He remains in the heart of many,

whose drum beats he inspired.

©Beloved Moses

The Mosaic World

Have an inkful Day
||| Lines and not a Poem! |||

<Writing weapon 1>
With a pen,

You cannot ask him ‘when’;

Always heavy

and ready

to vomit criticisms to chase

mediocrity to hell.

Many complained not ‘fair’.

Passion is his wife,

Always cheating on her by bleeding from five to five.

Spoken word King;

Figures Of Speech (FOS) Wing. 

Enjoy this inkful day;

Romance this birth ray.
<Writing weapon 11>

Should I ford-drive 

or pen-drive?

Confusion has sat on my mental faculty.

Out of the teachers and lecturers four-walls now, 

No more department or faculty.

The home that housed this icon for nine months;

The waggled mouths that went nuts;

The midwifery knife that chiseled

the placenta from our great literary oracle and drizzled the sticky water from the literary guru’s existence.

The shrine wall is black and white.

The floor is green and white.

Just can’t flog the wind of ‘thank you’ to all of them;

May the supreme Creator strike them 

not for evil 

but for good of inkful aliens and creative people.

Happy new year Sir.

Sorry, Happy birthday Sir.

Enjoy this inkful day;

Romance this birth ray.
<Writing weapon 111>


G-raciously the Creator deposited him in his father’s groin,

R-eality never bothered to concoct elaborate stories,

A-tmospheric chemical condition made the Inkman,

C-reativity has come to stay;

I-ntellectualism is with us;

A-ction speaks the true language of criticism,

N-igeria is proud of the number one poet,

O-riginality is his red plasma.


Happy birthday.

Many more inkful years 

the man of papers, voice and ink. 

Enjoy this inkful day;

Romance this birth ray.


A man with a vision;

With a mission.

A man that takes decisions 

to liberate and make young minds grow,

Raw materials to finished goods,

He is Graciano.
He has the conch 

of authority;

He’s like a lion

who takes control of his pride.
He is a diamond 💎;

Not gold.

Expensive, not easily gotten;

A treasure to be kept and cherised;

He is Graciano.
He is soaked in humility; 

Has enmity with pride;

An ornamental plant 

always beautifying with words.
A role model to adopt;

Companion to adorn;

Personality to emulate;

He is Graciano…



Acrostic Poem
G—Gracious! He has raped every word,

R—Ravaging every thought that may

A—Accuse him of being a god—Lord;

C—Court every feeling for a say;

I—I wonder, what a Messiah!

A—Ah, He’s a wanderer but behold,

N—Never a heart had he not share’

O—On every page of tales untold.
E—Each season shall speak of him,

N—Nay; October holds him a guest.

W—When in his wandering path; dream,

E—Engaged is his being with much zest;

R—Rare, as he would not but dance,

E—Ever to see him in such trance? 

M—Messiah, behold his glance.
~Reversed Version~
Messiah, behold his glance,

Ever to see him in such a trance? 

Rare, as he would not but dance.

Engaged is his being with much zest.

When in his wandering path; dream,

Nay; October holds him a guest;

Each season shall speak of him.
On every page of tales untold,

Never a heart had he not share’;

Ah, he’s a wanderer but behold,

I wonder, what a Messiah.

Court every feeling for a say,

Accuse him of being a god—Lord;

Ravaging every thought that may, 

Gracious!  He had raped every word.
(c)Rotimi Adeniyi Salawudeen

(El cypher.)

For Poet Graciano Enwerem on his Birthday.



If I had a wish in hand and a gift in the other,

I’d not mind giving you both with a smile;

It’s something that came from my heart.

Look around and remember the day you had fun,

Forever be with that smile you had.

Good days come and go,

Better ones created and kept in the memory box,

Make today, a better day,

Smile like it’s your last smile,

Grow in poetry as if your life depends on it,

Love those around you, thus bringing the best out of them.

Blow the candles, 

Make a wish,

See butterflies from the candle flame?

Your wishes are flying to heaven

For God’s fulfillment. 

Happy birthday Runner!!

We run things…
(c)Gomezga Chirambo

Running Gome


365 DAYS
We have just 365days in a year, 

In that 365days we have just one day to celebrate the day you were conceived, 

The day you were given life to live,

The day the world acknowledged your presence; 

When you cried out your first poem hmmwaaa hmmwaaa (a babies’ cry), 

Then the earth shook to the birth of a poet.
Graciano I really wanna say,

Gracias ’cause I know I you’ve been and  are still an inspiration to many,

That bright light that shines upon any

who wants to learn the trade of poetry.
I wish you the best that life can offer,

Wealth as long as our governments coffer,

So you will never have to suffer.

Wish you good health like you are immune to sickness,

Overwhelming strength that will sick your weakness,

Wish you long life as long as time to achieve your dreams,

Your name will be heard over the seas and your ink shall never cease; 

But seize time like history, your name will continue to be read and heard like the emperor Julius ceaser. 

Forever remain a winner.


(c)Darlymoore Oseghale


Always my Pupil…
Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Please look up,

I have something…

Just for you.
In the spirit of being blue,

I choose to paint something for you,

As you too got a shade of blue,

Though yours are a bit off,

Your shade is a bit darker.
Much will be said,

Less will be left unsaid,

So I stand from the rest,

Asking you to listen to their wishes,

As they are mine for you too.
You are the high flyer,

Keep rising with the wind,

Lead the flock up high in the clouds,

We follow behind in your greatness,

Lead us to your altitude.
Keep flying despite the storms,

Let your head stand high,

Remember when the storm brews inside,

Your hide will be your shelter,

Shine on this new year!!
Happy Birthday Pupil
©Joy Munde🌹



G- you are a rare Gem.

R- you are the Root of mother nature.

A- you are Attractive in a spontaneous way.

C- you are a Creative mystery.

I- great Intellectual caliber.

A- Amicable.

N- Naughty.

O- Oregon grape.
(c)Amaka Daniel



From tender dark the soil turned brown,

From tender touch a son has grown.

The story got clearer with every pages,

Why won’t it get better with every age?
Heaven bear us witness,

You are destined for greatness.

With benign touch of smile,

Destined to climb and walk a mile.
With time the sun got brighter and better,

Age better and brighter.

We found new son,

That we all belong.
A gift from heaven bring in you,

Not coincidence knowing you.

I have sent a nightingale with a Piano;

Just to say “happy birthday Graciano”.
 (c)Ogabo Egbe John


A pen god

Who like non rams the head of his pen against the clear canvas of white sheets,

One whose heart shines through 

with each stroke he renders.
A friend among the heavy pile of debris called humanity,
When our paths did cross, it was shades of awesome;

A jabroni whose love for jabronis amuses me yet

I call him a friend and often a brother.
His poetic roars resonates like the lions roar

and grrrrrrrr is his license.
He is a jolly good fellow;

One nature bestows on you when you least expect,

Who weaves his way into your mind’s archive.
Today, as you mount the mountain of a new age,

I pray you peer below,

See the lambs who need lifting

and also beside to see those sheep

who are worthy cronies in this journey of life.
Bliss on gold platter;

Love in innumerable measure;

Grace to surmount the insurmountable;

Eyes to reach within the crevices of humanity,

One where being human is a far

yet you choose to it be.
Happy birthday big guy,

The one with the loaded word bank,

Overflowing with alliterating metaphors. 
Happy Purple Birthday From the other room.
© Maureen Alikor ( Purple berry)


What’s a gathering without a leader?

No, I don’t mean a friendly adder

that laughs when you are here

and strikes when you are there.

I’m talking about a leader 

whose sacrificial water has made us harder.

We are united as a flock,

There’s no severing of these sheep,

Like a solid block,

There’s no pulling of this fellowship.

Even the regal sun in its glory

is but an introduction

when you are read as a story.

From the fiercest sun

to the friendly moon,

You have made both membership and leadership 


We had long lost our fingers 

while we ate with that one spoon,

That spoon we call love.

We see you as our ONLY HOST 

that descends on us peacefully as a dove.
Happy birthday:

Great leader,

Reliable leader,

Admirable leader,

Contagious leader,

Indomitable leader,

Amiable leader,

Nutritive leader and

Outspoken leader.
©Onwusa Abel


A score  and  five  days
Sweet Charming bells actually  did  ring in  October.

Like the incense bells of  mass  servers.

Independence has finally  come, these chants snowballs, 

Tickling the  ears of  everyone even those  who don’t care  to  listen.
A blackout was indeed declared  in a blankheart,

This one score and fifth day.

Graciano got a dream greater than  his tender sleep,

Breathing a right to freedom to all who will light through the spectrum and  write  to  stardom, 

Even  till the kingdom  come. 
Dignified, he’s  got  his  cap on,

Some call him god, but  if  all poets  join cult, na him be carpon,

The whole  number amongst  the figures,

And like dashes in  a sentence -we fill  in the  blank  spaces. 
No one  can  be  in his shoes,

None fits in, writers have stopped putting their feets in.

He’s both the  feather and the  ink,

He’s unique, he can’t flow the  way you  think.

And on his  birthday suit  even if  he  sniffs  shoes  he  can’t  smell  defeat.

Happy birthday  boss
(C)Comr Ezekiels de  COP

#A score  and  five  days.

#special dedication  to Grr


Before the beginning, was void, 

In the depth of the void, 

was intelligence, 

In the wisdom of this intelligence, 

was light, 

A light which shines in d darkness of the void.  

Before the sky, 

Before the dry land,

Before the lions, 

Before man, 

was knowledge, 

The knowledge of a poet, 

The poet of creation, 

A sweet poem, 

poem of the great. 

A man gifted with knowledge, 

a poet was he, 

is and shall always be, born on the 25th, 

Aa remarkable date, 

Kings seek to honor him, 

Wise men travel far to bring gifts, 

This great man, 

The poet, 

Great Graciano. 
Happy birthday from a loyal follower.
(c)Solomon Uzor

Chidi Swazz

Opera Winfrey  said,  and I quote “For everyone of us that succeeds,  it is because there is someone there that shows you the way out.”
I believe that God, 

Like He gave His only Son for our Salvation also gave us mini gods for our amplification. 

This simply means,  

He gave us men as engines for our airplanes like muslims earning jinn.

He made them fuses for our machines to brighten us like the May sheen. 
He put a man to hold you when you fall off,

Support you when you stand up and lead you through the walk up. 
A mini god taught me this,     

Success is a race,  we all have to run, 

While some may see it as fun, 

It is neither a joke nor is it a game, 

It is what we all have to proclaim

If we desire the acclaim. 

We should first of all aim, 

Put our plans in a frame, 

Get ready for the blame, 

Or events that might maim, 

Unless we just want shame

Living without a name. 

We should be ready to claim

As we set ourselves aflame. 

Because success is like a gun

It only shoots when you run. 

Today,  I celebrate a mini god who creates more mini gods through perfect cloning. 

They say, life is filled with love that we only get to feel when we share ours.  

This gem doesn’t share,  he gives all. 

Prudence Emudianughe


The tiller of our time.

The word blender of our time;

The humorous humour of our time

whose presence has great amity.

He likes what likes him

and hates what hates him.
He is a Mentor;

He is a role model;

He is a Wordsmith;

He is a Teacher;

He is a Poet;

He is a Friend;
The weaponry of humility that

carry everyone around him equally,

Irrespective your height, age

colour, tribe and language;

He shines onto your life bright.
He is a figure, 

I felicitates.

Happy birthday

May God continuous good health, favours and blessing be for him.


Isoboye Danagogo

(D Learning Poet)


For the sun that shines through

splintering severally into hearts, like the truth.
For frankness oozing from blunt words,

For figures filled with affection despite walls.
For the man with wings that soar so high,

We will live through this day with songs in our hearts.
Happy birthday Grrr.
Emmanuel Etim Essang



Poetiflying Grrr is a feat,

A feat for the fit;

Since I ain’t fit as a fiddle,

I will try not to muddle;

Pardon me, but that seems a Sisyphean task.
Grrrr, you’re an ass saver;

You saved mine with a kiss of life;

Saver of the poetically disabled;

Poetic-life has been a sweet tango since you came. 
I would call you Apollo,

But Mimosa Pudica is your best moniker,

I know because I know;

I am the third in command, 

Rivaled by a monstrous cap,

Second only to the ferocious glasses.
Today makes it G+r+a+c+i+a+n+o (68)years

since Earth welcomed you,

The lives you altered are grateful,

If only you will get yourself hooked,

You would know how grainful we are.
I won’t say have a blast,

I will type break a word;

You are not the best,

You are my best.
Happy Earth Day Graciano

Happy New  Birth Year
©Kataliyah Lekuti


It doesn’t matter if I’m talking gibberish,

Or if I’m not speaking the right English.
Brevity isn’t enough quality

to purge out my heart,

So I’d just flow in words,

Wishing they get to you

with the right emotions.
In you I see a new hue,

Colourfully embedded in piquancy.

In you I see beams of hope,

For us young lads and lasses.

In you I see yesterday a coven,

Today a shelter and tomorrow a Paradise.

In you I see strength to conquer vulnerability.
Happy birthday to the first

young erudite poet

whose vivacity scintillates blue spright.
Happy birthday to a humble soul

 whose spirit heals hearts,

Whose words tills the soil of hearts

and implants fruitful seeds.

Happy birthday to the most simple

yet sophisticated man I know.

Happy birthday to someone I’ve met even without meeting.
Happy birthday to a man of honour,

Happy birthday sir Graciano.
PS: Thank you sir for giving me a life in poetry. Words cannot express.
Elizabeth Amen Frank

(Lheezy Blinks)



Once upon a time;

It was October, day 25;

The sun and birds of the 

skies were already snoring,

The drums spoke aloud,

Only those with four ears

heard the calling.

It was a calling for the few…
We had be summoned.

Those asleep arouse with lanterns,

While we left our meal untaste,

Oil rubbed all over our fingers,

We grace the market square

paying no attention to shame.
Slowly the red cap Adam 

majestically emerged out

of the crowd;

Singing songs that kept our 

mind curiously anticipating.
So I tapped a friend;

To what holds the fate of 

this loud sound that starved

our eyes from sleep?
He whispered,

It’s Graciano’s Birthday!

Gyrate in songs of jubilation!

Drown yourself in countless

bottles of magic moment.
For in this special moment;

We celebrate a celebrity,

We honour a honourable,

We air our unique wishes 

to grace this long awaited

moment of unending smiles!
Happy Birthday Poetic Graciano!

Happy Bornday founder of FOS!

Happy conceiveday my friend! 

©Decent Innocent Junior

aka: decent_google.go – Nigeria

To A Poetry Priest
I have little words to say

to him whose mother cried 

the cry of happiness this day 

a couple of years ago,

While saints ceaselessly smiled 

as angels danced on their toes.
The celebration in heaven 

didn’t end at eleven.

No, it was till dawn!

Because he was a boy, God’s son.
A son that will swim 

constantly in a pacific pool of poetry,

While the birds will watch him 

like film and marvel from branches of trees.
They shall marvel and be stunned 

at his ability to turn and twist 

his tongue like Shakira’s waist, 

And make ladies crave for his bond.


Today a dear daddy to many babies

was that special son and baby,
Today daddy embraces everyone with love;

Same love he taps from high above 

and anoints his adopted children’s heads 

with a sense of humour that shines royal red.
Really I have little words to say 

to him, a teacher that knows the way.
Graciano Grows
Growth is always fresh like tomatoes

reeling randomly inside a tomato stew

and blending with other ingredients,
Call growth the fresh breeze

I inhale every evening and feel at ease

as the sun goes to hide from where it rose.
Never think growth will stop growing

on this day he is celebrating.

(Pick out the letters that begin

every line in this piece 

and put them together)
© BWriteWord

Bright Chimezie



Awakening to the sun, 

The rested trees stretched their limbs heavenward. 

Flapping their leaves for the new day;

The day Sir Graciano sprung forth.
The trees gathered in fortified colonies, 

Singing the song for a new day;

The day Sir Graciano was born! 
The trees blew their breeze of wishes, 

As they wet him with sparkling flowers;

For it’s Sir Graciano birthday. 
Happy Birthday they sang 

As they marched and danced in accordance 

Around him in jubilation and joy. 
Hurray! The trees shouted and rejoiced, 

As they celebrated in one accord. 

Happy Birthday to you Sir Graciano.

©Amao Williams Praise{willipraise}


I don’t know the stars that welcomed you on this day,

But I do know that they were happy,

With the moon smiling across skies;

Eager to welcome and adorable guy like you.


We celebrate a new chapter of your life,

I hope that each and every page is filled with happiness,

That when generations to come read them, 

They ain’t bored 

For they are reminded of the great poet that you are!!!!
(c) Atyang Emily Sandra


Far before the whistle sneezed,

And the asthmatic crowd wheezed like cold bees;

Cheering the queer strokes of dribbling feet–

sliding their knees to the fracture of defeat.

Far before the ball wheeled from the center,

Like a baby’s crawl from the placenta,

Your feet crowed the street before the cock;

Mind jogging, sweat ticking with the clock,

Twenty-six beats counting like the alphabet

is the expanse to dance, don’t forget.

From stammering strides to clear sprints,

Leaping from word to word, raising flints.

Your lungs felt your heart’s throngs;

The cravings to pelt unbridled songs–

Melodies caught in the airy chill,

Fit for Adam’s tongue after the evening meal.

So, you raced with thoughts laced with gold,

Crushed against the toothed path to unfold

the rhythmic breath bearing tasty wisdom,

That at the stretch of your mind, muse and tendons,

the world convulse at the climax of silence:

Goal! in Gracious reverence.
Happy Birthday Father Grrrr
®Mihz Words



Happy Birthday Grr
Fill up the dyke

Grab the mic

Today, I like

‘Cause Grrr arrived

On the 25th flight.
Day day

Night night

Rhyme rhyme

Kiss kiss

Mind mind

The blessings of this day shall abide with your spoken seed forever.

Amen +
(c)Ifeanyi Bernard Prestige


I was asked to write a dedication to Graciano, 

 How then should I write?  

  For how can I even pen down words, 

  to whom even words sing Gracias, 

  for he Graces them with a Gracious voice. 
What then should I write?.

  For one to which even my thoughts are sterile, 

  Upon one whose cap and smiles are unique in styles. 

This same human with which when laid down, 

  even the Grass-say-no. 

  in prove of his Grace. 

A legend, who usually lol yet leads like a gem. 
Then, what else should i add? 

Apparently, this is not a poem. 

Blame me not, for even my muse got muted, 

for how mouthed you are. 

For you’re a grade with grace my greed grill can’t grand. 


Those wrinkles by the eyes and lips, 

  are far more than words to me. 

 For Gra say(s) i know even with my numerous

   errors and fresh baked words, 

  You’re still my first ever BlackAfrican. 

Shine on Star! 

   with you stars get STARRED. 

Afolabi Rebecca 


I’ve seen kind creatures loaded with care and love 

I’ve seen haired-heads  with passionate endurance

And as meek as dove

But never have I seen wonders in a man that choke utterance

Never have I seen a gem of human

Gaiting modestly like lion

dazzling in the goodness of knowledge

With humility and alacrity

With affectionate perseverance

Like Graciano.
May the joy of his birth resound again.

May he live always.
(c) Poethick Samurai

True happiness comes with perfect love;

Laughter, peace, and care, it brings along.

With sweet words, Grrr thinks from above,

In all his deeds,he still says ‘ I’m strong.’

With his arms strong as he shoves 

through the shores of life’s shore,

Moon walking his way Neil Armstrong.
Real words come from a nerd,

Letters well woven to sparkle in the sky;

Making the it a worthwhile ceiling, 

Nourishing the deserts of our books,

Prompting us

to yarn words into an art.
This is not Malaria

That I’m doing this with a Ugandan,

Miss Charl,

Grrr’s impact transcends beyond Kenya,

Ghana and South Africa.
It’s no doubt that we are high flyers,

Rummaging through scattered clouds with a vision,

This is not meant for a season

like the unstable economy,

We are eagles;

We soar above the tides.
Skimpy things makes me feel queasy,

Uneasy his stanzas makes one tipsy,

Times running and he has no ‘she’;

FOS chicks help him please.
His pen still pukes even when it’s ill,

Marrying letters to give great poem,

Not just a poem,

Not just poetry.

The pen pukes him,

This dude is poetry.
Grrr’s like the STD’s he can’t be pissed off,

He’s piece you can’t read and face off,

Taking you from the oblivion of boredom,

Into the realm where you seldom feel odd.
He has got a passion that’s off this realm,

I wonder if it’s what they call perfect love,

Maybe it got him instead…

He’s love

Perfect love.
Welcome to Rephidim,

Where the  old woodchuck twists your tongue

with a slight cut that cuts your the talk.
This is a rehearsed sense,

Not 12 million nonsense;

This day is garnished with vanilla essence…
(c) Charlotte Akello


(c)Aiwansoba Emwinghare Jeffrey