Today I woke up

to the soft whistle of a hummingbird

serenading me on my window pane

The anaesthesia is waning.

my exhausted joints wrung with pain.

But, I turned on the stereo

Happy thoughts only.

I sprang to my feet



I went for a stroll, today

my heart was azure, like the sky

the air smelt of pine cones and lilies.

I spilled coffee on my blouse

came down with the flu

my banker told me I was broke

and I got a concussion from a flying ball




In the littlest ways,

I exercised the patient I never had

Today was perfect.



My  temple rests on satin pillow

I saw myself today

Another fitted piece

Tidbits of a congregate picturesque perspective

All that I am,

and all that I am going to be,

knowing enough.




The Girl Behind Alexander

Life is a journey and twenty-four years today, I started mine.

Coincidentally, Memoirs of Alexander began one year ago, today. What are the odds, right?

  Lol. I stun, I’m a stunner. But seriously, being twenty-three came with such unexpected growth and awareness, both personally and in social settings.

I was and perhaps am still the woman who wants things done her way, and being twenty-three taught me that it’s okay to not be perfect. It’s okay to show my vulnerability and it’s okay to let others pick me up.  Honestly, this one was a hard pill to swallow and it is gonna be a looooooong journey, which is why I am happy I began now.


Another thing about Idara-abasi which you may not have sensed is,  on a scale of one to ten, my confidence is perhaps a 3.5.  In my previous age, I discovered, with the aid of Memoirs of Alexander, that this possibly stemmed from being sexually assaulted at a young age, (I was a sweet, quiet kid, y’kno, exactly what the pedophiles like), and my inability to process and communicate it.  You can find the blog post here. Luckily, I found a medium to voice that, and now, I’m blossoming into the woman I was always meant to be.

I let my uniqueness, creativity, and wits speak for itself


I believe in a strong mind, and to achieve that I need a strong body.  Together, they’re okay— but not great, because there is an even bigger part of this equation that I struggled with my entire life.

Faith in the Lord Jesus. Phillippians 4:13. Restoring my faith is perhaps my biggest achievement being twenty-three.

There are constantly two forces fighting in each of us, the Holy Spirit and the spirit of the world. Galatians 5:17. I was always aware of that internal turmoil and like Jonah, I fled from God. I wasn’t ready, I didn’t want to be.

I am neither astral nor churchy, In fact, I am mostly a skeptical and pragmatic person, but I am slowly seeing the light and perhaps if I let it lead me instead of being such a dang control freak. Perhaps, I will be ready.

So here I am a blogger,  an epistemophile and soon to be MD, most of who I am today was not my plan, which again reminds me that God’s plan and time are not the same as mine.

I am grateful to the ever faithful, God. I am grateful to my family and friends who stuck around through my know it all and isolation-depressive phase.

I am grateful for the chance to connect with bloggers, readers, & supporters. You guys will continue to be a blessing to me.

So there you have it. A very long piece about myself, lol. If you made it this far, thanks for your audience. I would like to interact with you more, let me know what you think about this post.

Till next time,  remember, we are loved.

The Tin Man’s Friend

The light from the tv illuminated the room

Alexander sat on the sofa. Family guy was on, the episode about the Nigerian prince that scams Carter Pewterschmidt. From the side of her eye, she caught a shadow sprawling in the cornfield. It must be the neighbor’s cat, that destructive fur ball that somehow finds its way into her yard at night. She went out there to chase it away.

There was no cat—or raccoon. She crept silently through the small field. Nothing. Half-way back, she felt a jolt that destabilized her, lurching her towards the mud beneath her. A voice above her startled her.

I….m, I am mighty sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you tumble ‘nd rumble.

She leaped into the air, almost instantly. She made out face made of metal, limbs made from old curtain rails, and a body which appeared to be recycling cans. His speech was slurred.

His metal face twisted into what she could only imagine was a smile.

“May I stay here? my home has been destroyed. Promise I won’t be a bother”.

His meekness spoke more than his demeanor. She was more amused than terrified.

“Where is your home?”

“The landfill”, he was pointing west.

Empathy welled up in her heart, “sure you can stay”.

“Mighty thanks, Ms., I will be gone by the break of dawn”.

She began to walk away, from what was inarguably the most bizarre encounter of her life.

“Have an oil spill rocky dream Ms. ….”, he trailed off.

“Alexander”. She added quickly.

He chuckled. ” That’s a funny name for a girl”

“I guess it is”, she played along, “and what is your’s?”

“I never had one”, he mumbled.

“I think I’ll call you Tin Man”, She said, stepping through the door.


There was no trace of Tin Man the next morning.

She went about her work conversantly, finishing with dinner in front of the tv. She found herself wondering if the man of tin had come back. Eventually, she switched the tv off and went outside.

There he was, playing with a cat, completely distracted that he didn’t even see her approach. Then he did.

“Ms.., I call him skittles”

Does he talk too? she joked

“I enjoy the company of furry animals. They are rarely alarmed by me”.

Speaking of company, do you have any family?

“No, I was made by a team of robotic experts at a factory in Sapele”. His head hung as though it was heavy. “But my units started to malfunction, early. They stopped producing me, I was worthless, then they abandoned me in that landfill”. He again pointed West. “I built the rest of my body and my home from scraps”.

“I am not Conversant with my primary function”, he added.

She was amazed, She’d heard of Artificial Intelligence, but she’s never heard of an articulate, self-building robot. Her lips grew into a grimace

“I have no family too”, she admitted. “Just an old tv, and a journal”.

He frowned.

“Mighty sorry to hear that, Ms. I was programmed to believe humans ain’t supposed to be alone,” His eyes lit up almost immediately, “perhaps I could be a friend to you”.

She grinned. “would you?”

“It would be my pleasure”, he retorted

And so they sat in the yard under the night sky and be bid her well before the last vanishing star. He’d come back every night to be with her. Thus, the queerest of bond was forged between a raggedy tin man and a lonesome writer.

Image source: ailustra

The One That Got Away


The Snow grew heavier

They lay in bed

entwined in each other’s crouch

Him caressing her cheeks

He adored her

He couldn’t imagine his world without her.


She gazed into his eyes

They say when you’re with the right one

You just know

And it terrified her

If only he knew

His love was toxic

She’d turned it into resentment

If he only knew

that they wouldn’t stay entwined forever.

It’d break him

but she was youthful, beautiful

many-a-man fell at her heel

Afterall, wouldn’t it be a crime

to commit too early?


He senses his lover’s tribulations

He askes that one question

he knew would discern her intentions,

“Do you even love me?”

A pause.

Followed by a longer pause.


Their bodies separate

Just like their hearts.



He held onto her,

her scent, her voice

As long as he could

He wouldn’t find anybody else

For he wasn’t suave,

not even a little bit

But in a country with more than 250 million people

Even the hunchback on Notre Dame himself was accepted.

He was right.




Like she always wanted

Living defiantly

Reveling in the arms of suitors.

Someday she’d commit

Not until the wine turned sour

Her conquests became stale

and staying up till midnight, a chore

Would that day be on the horizon.

She often had reveries of him

And how he was faring

She picked up the phone book

And sought him.



He knew whom it was

When he saw the text

Memories of his heart, broken

by the person he could have vowed would always be there

He texted back.

Reconnecting with the old.



She admits she doesn’t have a regret

Tho, she wishes he would care for her

She senses part of him wants it too

so she asks the question

She knew would discern his intentions,

“Do you even love me?”

A pause.

A longer pause.







A Lover’s Quest

Your haughty eyes

Your formidable charm

I suspect you’ll  have more to unravel 

           I want you nowhere near me


       But when this last drop of wine           

                 lingers on my tongue

     perhaps you’ll  be more befuddled 

                   about my innocence.