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Kyeremeh Winston

Kyeremeh Winston

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maurice magen

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Favour Samuel

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precious Asiya

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Peace chetachukwu Alor

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poetry by The ArcAngel

poetry by The ArcAngel

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joy Anderson

joy Anderson

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Chelsea Nahai Awang

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ijeh chinemerem

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Creator Edu

Creator Edu

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Sokomba Esther A

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Oluwagbemisola O. Lawal

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esther princess matthew

esther princess matthew

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Ndungu God'slove

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Famuyide Temidayo

Famuyide Temidayo

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UDEME ABBA

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Amarachi Anastasia Okoro

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Nircle FilmMaker & Photographers

Nircle FilmMaker & Photographers

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Takbam ebenezer

Takbam ebenezer

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Nafisah(Queen Oineoza) Suleiman

Nafisah(Queen Oineoza) Suleiman

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Taiwo Jemimah

Taiwo Jemimah

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Benjamin olawuyi

Benjamin olawuyi

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Jashon Ombogo

Jashon Ombogo

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flow veracious

flow veracious

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Jared Chimezie

Jared Chimezie

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sir write man

sir write man

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Chinwendu Chime

Chinwendu Chime

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Chalya Goli

Chalya Goli

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NNOLI SYLVESTER CHIKELUE

NNOLI SYLVESTER CHIKELUE

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Umar Ibrahim Yunusa

Umar Ibrahim Yunusa

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Umoru Christiana

Umoru Christiana

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Sunday Prosper Uforo

Sunday Prosper Uforo

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Bethel Ineke

Bethel Ineke

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Marilyn Ossai

Marilyn Ossai

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Zimuzo Onah

Zimuzo Onah

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micheal morgan

micheal morgan

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Obayi Kimberly

Obayi Kimberly

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Shalom Ajayi

Shalom Ajayi

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Taiwo Emmanuel

Taiwo Emmanuel

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Omotolani gift

Omotolani gift

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Hauwa Kutemi

Hauwa Kutemi

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Ekwere Itoro

Ekwere Itoro

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Praise Chukwuegu

Praise Chukwuegu

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_nenye_writes_ .

_nenye_writes_ .

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Koranteng - Acquah Joseline

Koranteng - Acquah Joseline

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Nircle events

Nircle events

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Nircle forums

Nircle forums

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Poetic Blogger

Poetic Blogger

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Michael Linus McPatrick

Michael Linus McPatrick

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Peleowo Becky Oludayo

Peleowo Becky Oludayo

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Ezichi Faithful

Ezichi Faithful

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Agboola Olubukola

Agboola Olubukola

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Emmanuel Job

Emmanuel Job

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Oluwatomi Shabi

Oluwatomi Shabi

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Oladunni Falade

Oladunni Falade

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Enock Lucky

Enock Lucky

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Mercy Michael

Mercy Michael

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Bornfaith Godstime

Bornfaith Godstime

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Queency Okonko

Queency Okonko

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Doose Ieeveh

Doose Ieeveh

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Gloryfavour MightyImmanuel

Gloryfavour MightyImmanuel

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Temitope Oshin

Temitope Oshin

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Samuel Chukwuebuka

Samuel Chukwuebuka

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Nircle Poetry

Nircle Poetry

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Sofiyat Hassan

Sofiyat Hassan

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DEBEEH DUMDIBABARI

DEBEEH DUMDIBABARI

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Agbinya Mario Gabriel

Agbinya Mario Gabriel

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Praise Frank

Praise Frank

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Ossai Favour

Ossai Favour

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Akam Oluchi

Akam Oluchi

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Ako Philemon

Ako Philemon

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KEHINDE AKPORIEN

KEHINDE AKPORIEN

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Vincent Obamiso

Vincent Obamiso

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Destiny Joseph

Destiny Joseph

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Islam AO

Islam AO

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Imabong Faminu

Imabong Faminu

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Sunday Roseline

Sunday Roseline

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Sarafina Sampson

Sarafina Sampson

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Reubendaniel Joy

Reubendaniel Joy

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Ibiang Ayei

Ibiang Ayei

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Chukwuemeka Oluka

Chukwuemeka Oluka

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Light Lines &

Light Lines &

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okeowo Oluwatoyin

okeowo Oluwatoyin

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Aremu Lydia

Aremu Lydia

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Rukayyah Abdullahi Bawa

Rukayyah Abdullahi Bawa

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Exploring Poetry

Ako Philemon

Reason and Passion

Passion with reason, the balance to steer in every affair lest we be driven like a reed in the storm; a mental puppet to the opinions of others. Too much passion leads to error; over zealousness, ambitions -- extremism Too much of Reason leads to stillness, inaction, over judging, caution. The fool dies of both: passion and reason at their extreme. As such, all wisemen are fools because they die of too much of the brain (reason). And all that is foolishness die out of their passion (too much ...

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WHEN THE ORDINARY SEEMS TO BE ENOUGH
jerry KWATCHEY

WHEN THE ORDINARY SEEMS TO BE ENOUGH

#poetry WHEN THE ORDINARY SEEMS TO BE ENOUGH When your goals, ambitions, and dreams are derailed, the mind begins to substitute. You start assigning weight to things that were never meant to carry significance. The ordinary grows loud. The mundane demands attention. Small comforts begin to feel like milestones. Not because they matter but because something else is missing. When direction is lost, anything that moves feels meaningful. When vision fades, noise starts to sound like progress. ...

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THE NEW NORMAL
jerry KWATCHEY

THE NEW NORMAL

#poetry THE NEW NORMAL We live in a time where the abnormal has learned to wear the face of normal, and the normal is treated like a strange, outdated ritual. Cheating on your wife is now casual. Faithfulness is questioned, studied like a rare behavior, spoken of with suspicious curiosity. Knowing where your spouse is is no longer called care it is branded control, an invasion of privacy in a union built on trust. Standards are labeled rigid. Boundaries are mocked. Accountability is avoided....

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THE WEB OF FAMILIARITY
jerry KWATCHEY

THE WEB OF FAMILIARITY

#poetry THE WEB OF FAMILIARITY People are nurtured to be drawn to familiarity. Before we understand choice, before we learn possibility, we cling to what feels known. It begins quietly with accents that sound like the ones that rocked us to sleep, tones that echo the comfort of voices that shaped our earliest worlds. We lean into familiar scents the silent storytellers. A whiff of smoke, spice, the faint memory of someone’s perfume and suddenly the past sits beside us as if it never left...

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THE PET THEY CHOSE
jerry KWATCHEY

THE PET THEY CHOSE

#poetry THE PET THEY CHOSE A Reflection by SIMU Some people have now befriended stupidity. They have made it a pet not by accident, but by consistent invitation. They feed it with ego, stroke it with pride, and water it with the refusal to learn. Stupidity now sits on their laps like a loyal creature, licking their faces with the comfort that comes from long companionship. It stretches out on their couches as though it pays the rent, nuzzling into their habits, breathing in rhythm with the...

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THE LOST ART OF SUBTLETY
jerry KWATCHEY

THE LOST ART OF SUBTLETY

#poetry “The Lost Art of Subtlety” Welcome to a generation where reading a full sentence feels like a marathon, where attention spans are stitched together with blinking emojis and vibrating notifications. A time where every idea must come with bright colours, sound effects, and kindergarten illustrations before the mind decides it is worthy of meaning. The art of subtlety is starved. Nuance is dehydrated. Silence is suspicious. If a story does not scream, if wisdom does not twerk, if tr...

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THE ARCHITECTS AND THE ECHOES
jerry KWATCHEY

THE ARCHITECTS AND THE ECHOES

#poetry THE ARCHITECTS AND THE ECHOES Society has never truly belonged to the majority. It never has, it never does, and it never will. Across every era, from kingdoms to empires to modern digital tribes, the world is shaped by a small circle of individuals with stronger wills, sharper conviction, and voices that refuse to be drowned by the noise. These are the architects the stubborn minds who bend reality toward their belief. Not because they are chosen, but because they choose themselves....

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LOVE BREWED IN AN AFRICAN POT
jerry KWATCHEY

LOVE BREWED IN AN AFRICAN POT

#poetry LOVE BREWED IN AN AFRICAN POT The sun wasn’t even smiling yet but she was there headscarf fresh, eyes calm, hands doing sacred choreography with leaf, rice, and beans. And you… just went for 10 cedis waakye but your spirit didn’t know it was walking into romantic ambush. Because the girl: the one who pretends she doesn’t know she brushed your knuckles, who scoops extra gari with intention, who adds more stew like she’s downloading feelings into your plate she is trouble. ...

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THE SPACE PACE AND PLACE OF YOUR PRIORITIES
jerry KWATCHEY

THE SPACE PACE AND PLACE OF YOUR PRIORITIES

#poetry THE SPACE PLACE AND PACE OF PRIORITIES Your priorities dictate the space, place, and pace of your life. Because life is not gentle it follows the weight of your choices. What you value becomes your reality. What you neglect becomes your emptiness. What you tolerate becomes your trap. And what you refuse to confront becomes the architect of your downfall. Some people blame fate… but fate is often just discipline avoided, truth ignored, and chaos you allowed to grow teeth. If your ...

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THE MEASURE OF TRUE WORTH
jerry KWATCHEY

THE MEASURE OF TRUE WORTH

#poetry THE MEASURE OF WORTH by SIMU The most difficult person to extract the true measure of your worth from… is yourself. Not the world. Not the critics. Not the voices that rise and fall with the seasons. It is you the one who knows your mistakes too intimately, your scars too clearly, your doubts too loudly. Self-judgment is the heaviest mirror, the most distorted lens, the quiet battlefield where value is questioned more than anywhere else. But still your worth remains unchanged, ev...

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THE WEIGHT OF GOODNESS
jerry KWATCHEY

THE WEIGHT OF GOODNESS

#poetry THE WEIGHT OF GOODNESS by SIMU What defines a man as a good man is rarely found in the noise of applause, or in the spotlight of public praise. A good man is revealed in the choices he makes when no one is watching… in the sacrifices he carries quietly… in the integrity he maintains for reasons no one may ever hear, understand, or celebrate. Goodness is not climbing a high mountain to wave the flag of morality, begging the world to notice. Goodness is the man who walks alone guid...

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THE IRONY OF SEEMING
jerry KWATCHEY

THE IRONY OF SEEMING

#poetry THE IRONY OF SEEMING by SIMU There is a strange contradiction in this world… A quiet, unsettling truth. Sometimes the countries that claim no faith, no divine allegiance, no spiritual banner are the very ones living out the most practical echoes of godliness: justice that works, compassion without performance, systems that protect the weak, and dignity that is not negotiable. And then there are the nations that shout faith from rooftops, heavy with rituals, loud with declarations ...

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THE LACK OR LOVE OF A MOTHER
jerry KWATCHEY

THE LACK OR LOVE OF A MOTHER

#poetry THE LACK OF OR LOVE OF A MOTHER A Reflection by SIMU There are two forces that shape a soul long before the world ever gets a chance to touch it: The love of a mother… and the lack of it. One becomes a shelter a quiet, invisible armor stitched from tenderness, guidance, and gentle truth. It teaches you how to stand, how to trust, how to let the world touch you without breaking you. The other becomes a storm a silent hunger that grows in the bones, a search for comfort in places ...

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BE STILL
Ako Philemon

BE STILL

Permit yourself some free fall. Sometimes free fall under gravity gets your feet to a safe landing. Struggling to break a fall, displaces our balance, the equilibria of the force of gravity thus, dispositioning us, and while falling, we break a limb. Sometimes we put in our best to change fate, alter course, but it only proves null and void. That investment that brought forth a loss, push not further...Lest greater woes in trying to redeem, salvage. At moments of a loss... we become more emo...

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BOXING BOUT
jerry KWATCHEY

BOXING BOUT

#poetry LANGUAGE WORKOUT A Poetic Reflection by SIMU Language trembles in the ring, a heavyweight breathing like it hasn’t trained in decades syllables drenched in sweat, vowels gasping, consonants wobbling on tired feet. You pulled language into a twelve-round duel against the raw ferocity of creativity, and creativity does not fight gentle. Metaphors strike with lightning jabs, syntax staggers under uppercuts, rhythm absorbs body blows, and imagination swings hooks so wild the referee lo...

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ECHOES OF A GOLDEN DAWN
jerry KWATCHEY

ECHOES OF A GOLDEN DAWN

#poetry Echoes of a Golden Dawn” by SIMU I am ever grateful for the childhood I had when wonder lived between the pages of books, and every turned page opened a universe: a realm of dreams, of quiet magic, of worlds unbound by the weight of screens. Our parents loved us, yes but beyond affection, they gave us the truest gift of all: discipline and boundaries, those invisible walls that taught us the architecture of self. How little we knew that this firm tenderness would sculpt our spirits ...

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THE NEW CURRENCY
jerry KWATCHEY

THE NEW CURRENCY

#poetry A NEW CURRENCY We live in times where stupidity is a currency shiny, viral, highly traded. The more absurd, the more it appreciates. People chase it like gold, flaunt it like status, and the world applauds. Every like, every share, every trending moment is a minting of more. But currency, no matter how popular, carries its debts. And this one… its debts are accumulating in silence, invisible to the eye but massive in force. Somewhere beyond our perception, consequences are convergi...

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THE WEIGHT OF CHOICES
jerry KWATCHEY

THE WEIGHT OF CHOICES

#poetry THE WEIGHT OF CHOICES When a woman gets used to making a living by lying on her back, the world of labor, dignity, and honest sweat begins to look distant… like a path overgrown with thorns, tedious, cumbersome, and painfully slow. The options that carry the cross of effort and the burden of self-respect seem less like opportunity and more like punishment. The hours, the struggle, the discipline they weigh heavy, and temptation whispers, soft but relentless: “Why toil when comfort...

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THE FORGING OF A WARRIOR
jerry KWATCHEY

THE FORGING OF A WARRIOR

#poetry THE FORGING OF A WARRIOR The greatest warriors are sometimes born of the strangest circumstances. He never envisioned himself with hilt in hand, blade arcing through the air in a punishing, fatal sweep. He never imagined his feet parted and grounded in a fighter’s stance, breath steady, heart cold, resolve sharpened to a killing edge. No in his mind’s eye, he saw himself painting a quiet portrait, overlooking a stream where the water murmured small secrets to the stones. He saw bl...

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THE MOST POWERFUL TOOLS IN HUMAN HISTORY
jerry KWATCHEY

THE MOST POWERFUL TOOLS IN HUMAN HISTORY

#poetry THE MOST POWERFUL TOOLS IN HUMAN HISTORY They were never iron or fire. They were never the spear, nor the sword, nor the silicon chip humming beneath glass. Humanity’s greatest tools have always been softer… quieter… deceptively small and yet they bend the arc of history with the force of a tidal wave. “Please.” A simple surrender of ego. The key that opens doors pride keeps locked. Empires have risen on alliances born from this word. Lives have been spared. Hearts have sof...

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WHEN MY THOUGHTS COLLIDE
jerry KWATCHEY

WHEN MY THOUGHTS COLLIDE

#poetry WHEN MY THOUGHTS COLLIDE BECAUSE OF YOU My thoughts are colliding not gently, not softly, but crashing into each other like lightning trying to outrun thunder just to speak your name first. They race, they stumble, they jostle, they wrestle, each one fighting for the privilege to be the first thought that dares to describe what you do to me and failing… because none of them are strong enough to carry the weight of you. You have single-handedly arrested my attention and seized my e...

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IN MY ARMS
jerry KWATCHEY

IN MY ARMS

#poetry IN MY ARMS “Only my essence can move you like this.” I see you missed it. That energetic poetry of motion, the rhythm of my essence flowing through you. The way my words and gestures invade your being gently, decisively, irrevocably. It is the musical caress of your soul, the expressiveness that only I can give, the dialogue between motion and emotion, between thought and feeling. This is me not seen, not touched, not spoken, but felt. Always. A Reflection from the SIMU Collecti...

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STRANGE HANDS
jerry KWATCHEY

STRANGE HANDS

#poetry She left. She sought hands that weren’t yours, affection that could never hold her. And now… she comes back. Not because she never loved anyone else, but because the world used her, and nothing she found could replace you. She is not the woman you once knew. She is the one who has been tested, used, and broken returning to the only place that feels like home. A Reflection from the SIMU Collection.

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THE DEVIL IN THE MIRROR
jerry KWATCHEY

THE DEVIL IN THE MIRROR

#poetry THE DEVIL IN THE MIRROR A CINEMATIC SIMU PIECE Not every devil hides in fire. Not every monster lives in the underworld. Not every darkness comes from the shadows. Sometimes the devil we search for is not seated in a volcanic throne, deep in the bowels of the earth, lighting a Cuban cigar with molten lava, trident in hand, laughing that theatrical, ancient, villainous laugh that sounds like fee… fia… foo… plotting whose blood to taste next. No. Sometimes the devil is quieter....

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THE COSMIC RAIN OF FOREVER
jerry KWATCHEY

THE COSMIC RAIN OF FOREVER

#poetry THE COSMIC RAIN OF FOREVER I will rain notions on you thoughts so alive they bend the spine of the universe. I will rain motions on you soft movements that teach the heavens new ways to sway. I will rain emotions on you until galaxies pause their spin just to feel the warmth between my words. I will rain affection on you until dawn questions its own light. I will rain expression on you until silence breaks under the weight of beauty. I will rain poetry on you until language kneels in...

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YOU COMPLETE ME
jerry KWATCHEY

YOU COMPLETE ME

#poetry I want to look at you with such tenderness that the world forgets its noise for a moment, with such affection that the wind itself pauses just to learn how devotion is supposed to sound. With such single-minded adoration, so focused, so unwavering, that even the sun envies the warmth in my gaze. To worship you with an intensity so deep it humbles the heavens, so raw it startles the quiet spaces within me. A devotion carved from longing and completion a longing that feels like home, a...

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MY FIRST COPY BOOK
jerry KWATCHEY

MY FIRST COPY BOOK

#poetry “MY FIRST COPY BOOK” This generation is drifting backward. Back to that “My First Copy Book” era where pictures were spaced between every few words just to keep a child from getting bored… Back when your imagination had to grow teeth. Back when the world inside your mind expanded as the pictures disappeared. But look around now. We’re raising grown toddlers with barren imaginations. Adults who cannot process a sentence unless it’s dripping in over-designed visuals, an...

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BEYOND THE CONCEPT OF SIN
jerry KWATCHEY

BEYOND THE CONCEPT OF SIN

#poetry Beyond the Concept of Sin Life moves in rhythms that no law can contain, in currents that no guilt can slow. The stars do not pause to judge your steps, the rivers do not whisper of wrong or right. We are taught to fear shadows we cannot see, to shrink from the pulse of our own being. “Sin,” they call it a word heavy with chains, a cage built from the echoes of others’ fear. But what is sin to the wind? What is sin to the ocean, to the pulse of your own breath, to the quiet, inf...

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THE BEAUTY IN THE BROKEN
jerry KWATCHEY

THE BEAUTY IN THE BROKEN

#poetry THE BEAUTY IN THE BROKEN by SIMU True death is not the moment the body goes still true death is when the spirit stops moving. It begins quietly, in the shadows of fear: the fear of trying, the fear of falling, the fear of failing, the fear of truly living because fear has wrapped itself around your courage and tightened its grip. For what is the point of being alive if you are afraid of the very thing that shapes you? Life has never been a straight, unbroken line. Life is a mosaic a...

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THE GENERATION OF GLITTER
jerry KWATCHEY

THE GENERATION OF GLITTER

#poetry THE GENERATION OF GLITTER There is a fracture in the fabric of this age not of speech, but of sight. The L that once stood for legacy, learning, and lasting value has been mistaken for the R, the restless hunger for recognition. So crass is paraded as class, and the loud are mistaken for the wise. We have become the Glitter Generation where every sparkle is treated as gold, where the surface blinds the soul, and reflections are mistaken for reality. We chase the shimmer instead of th...

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THE NEW BREED OF CUCKOO
jerry KWATCHEY

THE NEW BREED OF CUCKOO

#poetry THE NEW BREED OF CUCKOO — A REFLECTION FROM THE SIMU COLLECTION Once upon a sky where instinct ruled and survival was an art, the cuckoo bird lived by a selfish but effective wisdom: lay your egg in another bird’s nest, leave quietly, and trust that someone else’s responsibility will raise what you abandoned. It was flawed but it worked. Until now. A new breed of cuckoo has emerged, and even the old ones whisper its name with unease. This one no longer searches for nests. It n...

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A King threatened by a Cry in the Manger
Eyo Jedidiah Precious

A King threatened by a Cry in the Manger

‎I Perceive King Herod's Tone... ‎ ‎The pretend care in his voice barely flowed through the walls of his lips, even as he fumed from his nose. ‎ ‎"Stars In The East. ‎King We've Come To Worship", ‎ ‎I'm too sure it echoed from his left ear to the right. ‎His mattress definitely couldn't withstand the weight of his troubled countenance, this I'm too sure about. ‎The scorching heat of his emotions, the willpower to overthrow a child. ‎ ‎Who gets overwhelmed and threatened ...

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My first day on the Garden
Hosea khitongwa

My first day on the Garden

#poetry My first day on the Garden, Even though I knew little about flowers, My eyes found her first… a beautiful jasmine. Before I even learned her name, I could already tell it would sound Like a melody meant for my ears alone. Suddenly, my eyes grew lazy Unwilling to roam around the garden When they could rest on such Charming, modest beauty. The fragrances of flirting gardenia, peony, lilac, lily, And all the others tried to pull my attention, But none of them mattered. All my focus ...

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Ako Philemon

THE SYMBOL OF LOVE

Love is magic: Can make the temporal, fleeting everlasting, eternal in impression and the eternal temporal, fleeting. Love can immortalize the ordinary and make that which is legendary, heroic ordinary. Where, when love is, emotions lead and reason, judgement, logic fades. Love is the wisdom of the fool and the folly of the wise. In short, Love turns fools into wise men and turns wise men into fools. Love tames dragons into ants and can transform a humanoid into a superhuman. Love can make...

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KEEP A WATCHFUL EYE 3
Ako Philemon

KEEP A WATCHFUL EYE 3

Life is full of uncertainties and the sons of men full of shortcomings. Who has not erred, who has no shortcoming? And the spy, frenemy, Villain is always on the watch. To strike when we least expect; to put us off guard. As Judas would betray Jesus with a Holy Kiss. To court the Master Himself to betrayal. To err is human but sometimes the slightest err is grave at times of dire necessity when precision and near perfection is what it takes to survive the moment. Keep watch of those carryin...

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THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT
jerry KWATCHEY

THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT

#poetry The Shadow and the Light A Reflection from the SIMU Collection Sometimes a lie is not what it seems. Sometimes it is merely a shadow of a truth, hiding in corners our eyes have not yet discovered. And sometimes, the truth itself is veiled, like morning mist hiding the shape of the mountains, waiting for the sun to reveal what was always there. A lie whispers in subtle tones the reality we are not ready to see, carrying fragments of honesty tucked in between its folds. And truth, unrec...

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THE BRIDGE OF CONTRAST
jerry KWATCHEY

THE BRIDGE OF CONTRAST

#poetry THE BRIDGE OF CONTRAST by SIMU Life’s true meaning is not found at the extremes. Not in the blinding light of abundance, nor in the crushing weight of scarcity. Not in the stillness of peace, nor in the storm of grief. Not in the glory of life, nor in the silence of death. It is found in the invisible point between them that fragile balance, that razor-thin line where opposites collide and coexist. It is the bridge between joy and sorrow, where you learn the worth of happiness onl...

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Manifestation Jayeoba

Happy Sunday

#poetry Psalm 56:3 When I am afraid, I put my trust in you ✝️💟✝️💟💜. #NircleStories #NircleSociety #NircleCommunity #NircleLifestyle #NircleEntertainment #NircleFeeds #NircleJob #Quoteoftheday #NirclrArts

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CROWN OF THE FOOL
jerry KWATCHEY

CROWN OF THE FOOL

#poetry THE CROWN OF THE FOOL by SIMU Humanity is becoming denser by the second. Stupidity has not only climbed the throne it sits there with its legs crossed, its chest out, issuing commands with an audacity so bold that even wisdom and common sense stand in the shadows, speechless, hands tied, watching the circus they once ruled. We are living in an age where ignorance no longer whispers it shouts. It stomps across the world with muddy boots, wading into spaces where even wisdom and knowle...

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ACQUIRED LIVING SYNDROME
jerry KWATCHEY

ACQUIRED LIVING SYNDROME

#poetry ACQUIRED LIVING SYNDROME by SIMU Most people are not living they are performing a life they acquired. A borrowed script. A hand-me-down identity. An existence molded by the loudest voices in their upbringing. Nurture becomes the dominant puppeteer, slowly tightening its grip around nature until nature cannot breathe, cannot whisper, cannot rise. What should have been instinct is smothered by instruction. What should have been individuality is strangled by inheritance. So people move...

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