Ibadan, Nigeria

Hey there, my name is Mofe. Mofeoluwa for full, Mofe for short and I love poetry, I mean I love writing poems a lot. I’m a poet, I started writing a little later after my parents separation in 2012. The first set of poems I wrote centered on Cowardice, Love and Loneliness. At the time, I didn’t know what to do with such a wonderful talent, as I went on to study Politics, Philosophy and Economics in the university. This course of study, of course, opened me up to a new horizon of knowledge, the liberal ability of ones mind to roam a newfound world of untapped reasoning. The mind of a man is powerful indeed, it is like the growing limbs of a spider in progress, it’s growth process is endless but stabilized dormant in all existing cases incurred by an exposure level barrier.

I uncovered my niche in the world of literature, it is the niche of creative writing. I’m good at this, I surprise even myself every time I do it. Throwing ideas into writing to produce excellent articles that will be received well by the public. I’m capable of creating controversy, also can take up topics on controversial issues without inflicting more than an ounce of sentiment on it.

My goal is to preach to the world the power of futuristic ideas, the power of creative thinking, innovative thinking. Ideas that will lead us into a century of unimaginable fantasies achieved. I want to also make exploits of my own, wanna join, or pardon me enter Hollywood Movie Production, God! I love movies a lot. And yes, I want to write books, novels that will become a classic to be adapted decades from now.


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May 02, 2018 2 years ago

“Mofe Joshua” I mentioned to him, little pride minced with doubt could have been detected in my tone at that moment, “I might be the one” I thought to myself. “Sixty Percent” Mr Rojo called back at me. Not an excellent score, in fact a low point at that but remarkable because I was indeed the one, I had scored the highest mark in the English test. Earlier, Mr Rojo had reprimanded the class for its poor performance in the test. Myriad of lower grades have been mentioned to every other students who asked to know his or her score, until now probably every other person had hoped they were the exceptional student who scored sixty in the test. Sadly enough, their hopes has been shattered because after sixty, the next best score the teacher reported was twenty six over hundred. And so throughout the rest of the class I positioned myself to face Mr Rojo as though I am indeed a serious student, but mind you, I was absent-minded, trapped away in my own world of imaginations. I contemplated a situation where Lawal was around, sitting directly behind me “Meh! I really do miss her” if I turned my head to look in her direction with a smirked face, I bet she would anticipate my move by smacking my head, ask why I'm too full of myself and tell me not to make a fuss of the issue because it is not big deal. Even now, in reality, I can feel Rhoda's eyes on me, staring in envious delight. She had held my head in marvel once as though trying to weigh the contents of my brain when I answered a question no one else could do justice in Economics class. ”You guys are playful, very playful” Mr Rojo reiterated, “most of you can go on ranting in Yoruba[ Yoruba; the indigenous language of the south-western people in Nigeria.] like you are quoting bible verses. Especially this boy, Emmanuel! Where is he?” He shouted pointing at him with mean eyes. “Sir!” Emmanuel responded and everybody laughed. “You scored fifteen percent” Mr Rojo retorted and everybody laughed again. The rest of the period went on as Mr Rojo retreated to giving the right answers to the test questions, making comments about stupid answers He came across while marking our papers. At the end of the class, He left for science class, the class next to ours “Class of Efikos”[ Class of Efikos; Efikos denotes the set of brightest students.]. And there He continued with the second edition of the issue He started in our class, art class. Funnily enough, I remained the only top scorer even in their league. Meanwhile, in our class, we had a free period so everybody joked around, Emmanuel taking the lead role, imitating the gestures of furious Mr Rojo. Some mates praised me, whined about what a bookworm I am and some other passed abrasive comments about how scoring the highest mark in a test is not such a big deal, I just faked calmness and joined in the merriment of the free period, joking around with my close pals, Shodiya and Ayodeji. We all heard a loud cry from science class when Mr Rojo was done with his period, I wasn't much alarmed since I knew the reason for the cry. It was quite pathetic how poorly we did. When colleagues from science class came to our class, they wanted to know who had scored the highest mark, the point of emphasis for the poor overall performance and when they were told I was the one, more praises came. The mind blowing part of the story was when Oyindamola found me and commended me with some gesture I can't quite remember but it did seem like a hug, I thought it was very playful of her, little did I know I was soon to be swooned by her ravishing beauty.

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