Sincerely, I want to acknowledge the name of the Lord for being the author and finsher of my faith. And concerning this project alongside adding a year to my breathing today, it has been him, and it will always be him.
More so, my appreciation also goes to the brains behind this project. Those that I have tapped annointing of creativity from, inspired by their oeuvres and the genesis of my muse. I celebrate you all.
Basically, this story portrays the possibility of proximity between heads, despite distinct background. Be it in sage, age, experience, belief, finance, family background, emotion and the likes. Nigeria can still be a better nation if we can forget the past to remember the future in broom.
Furthermore, apart from the story being a lantern to the blindness of the myopic nature that have been pocknosing about the manner of proximity that exist between the hero and heroine, it is endowed with wide and deep themes.
However, this story is 80% non-fiction and 20% fiction. The fiction area is where the future was predicted through belief or what are view.
More over, may I juxtapose this claim that reading, creativity and publishing experts should note that this is not yet a published oeuvre. It is for this reason that makes it lacks the rudiments a well publishing work should have. It’s just done in an ebook format for future reference. But after reading, if you think it worths been published, and you have the capability of making it a reality, please do help with your financial support and the likes.
Notwithstanding, on no account should this story be published, plagiarized or reformed without the permission from the writer. For each letters amd words has its own peculiar function. Avoid Ghost writing.
Nevertheless, I remain my humble self, Oyedokun Ibukun S. with the pen name PENAWD. This is just to take a step on publishing as I emerge into a greater level. And felicitating with my birthday as a whole.
May you be blessed, inspired, motivated and enlightened as you read.

…they never dated, but their love is never outdated
A poetic prose written by Oyedokun Ibukun S.
…priceless pen perceiving beyond boundary

Just at the puff of air a damsel I sharpened her cookey cowry dentiton bite me with her travelling trick, my mind was bleeding profusely like a victim of fatal accident that survived after taking a risk.
The heavens can bear me witness that I gave all silver and gold I have in heaven and earth to this angel of virgin aesthetics. I murdered my creativity, sacrificed my dexterity, devoted my spirituality, offered my sagely ability, changed my mentality to maturity, and tendered my tangible tick-tack. All was just to dance to the tune of her mesh, not knowing she would toss it in a trash and turn it to a mess.
But on this brightened sky, when it’s transparent that the revolving globe was set to stretch forth its matchet of death towards my shivering neck, and I could paint the picture of rain of tears gulshing from my ‘spec’, then I said to myself, “babá kú, babá kù”. And my head was injected about an emerald that is so priceless like the Jewel that has been a source of motivation anytime I was moody about the past soul mate. No head tapped me before I remembered how, where and when I met this charming and heavenly creature.
It was a blissful evening when the sun was about to sleep, and I saw the moon raising its heads to check if everywhere was cool and calm in order to bring along its cousin, star, so as to take dominion, as ants take dominion on sugar.
Normally, when I walk, it’s either I make my vocal cords dance melodiously or involve in any kind of creativity. It depends on how the muse descends. But this day, as I was singing, I got to the surroundings of my hostel, and I became lamed. I was deaf, dumb and stunned just at the period I was captivated by the heavenly mesmerizing aesthetics of this young lady. I must say, she’s envisaged with angelic qualities. Though I had it in mind that it’s either she’s a ‘jambito’ or one of the ladies that did fetch from our pit of ocean. I wanted to maintain my prestige, so I decided not to greet. Though I only saw her back view, and my head was knocked on how appealing it was to my sight. But I only walked in to the corridor of my hostel like a ghost.
Like I had known my hostel mates would all be in one room discussing, I went straight to the room. And the only means of salutation I could get from them was “we now have a new-bie in the hostel”.
This was not as sweet to my hearing as when I discovered it was the lady I saw outside the other time. Like I was descending from paradise, my manner of elation was at the apex. No one told me to go out before I went to introduce myself to her.
On getting outside and facing her, I knew that calling her a damsel was an understament, and calling her an angel would not be an overstatement. I hid my shyness and told her I was aware that she’s part of our family. And for her to talk, she gave a magnetic smile to my dull head. My brain began to salivate for more. My eyes weren’t blind at her set dental system, so white as wool, and the way her mouth was used to give such touching touch.
I couldn’t wait to hear the name she bares, and when I asked for her name, she gave me a soft sensational smile, and with her sweet smoothen sonorous voice she said “I’m Beatrice, but friends call me Beatdem”. Like I’d never heard this name before, thousand times did it ring and echo into my hearing, tranquility, responsibility, dignity, and a trait of a lass endowed with lad qualities. I had this thought because of her misnomer, Beatdem. My own thought was that she would be stern and wouldn’t condone any form of mischievious acts from any bad eggs in her balcony. Hearing her name was just a second globe to me. The name is so appealing, captivating, poetic, romantic and admiring. It’s the name all mothers would love to name thier daughters. But not to bore her with my deep wondering like a little child, I had to tell her boldly that “by the virtue of nomenclature, I am Oyedokun Ibukun. A 100 level Student of English in the University of Ibadan, Ilesa catchment. And friends also call me hibikay”.
“Oh! Okay!”, she replied.
After I had done this, I decided to free her in order to fetch the water she was fetching on time. Though my mind was a magnet on her personality, not with dating or what are view, but she’s just adorable. I left for my room and that was all about our first glimpse.
But when I was a living dead, she came to share her experience about her first love.
According to her, she was never in one accord with Femi during the early senior secondary days. Both of them did step on eachother’s toes like cat and rat. But you know, when love shows its bouquet of rose, there is tendency for what has an iota of blemish in to turn to friendship. That was what really happened to these lovers. The bed of their rose really became a living at the later part of their senior secondary days. But since then, my gem did see hell.
“Femi reigns in my heart like a rain just because of camoflague, and more or less a figure head”, that was what Beatrice told me when I asked why she’s still madly in love with him despite all heads that have been disturbing her for their two to become one.
If there is anything I can replace with a dog, that would have been a better qualification for him. He never respected the feelings of this innocent lass. He continued to mess up with folks, foes and surprisingly, Beatrice friends. And for her to react, she would never.
Beatrice could blast him on phone after he also might have flicked her uvular, but the moment she set her spectacles on him, she would turn lame and be submissive. I still wonder this manner of affection.
The more Beatrice told me about her past, the more our proximity grows like grass. For million years I had been checking her dictionary, I don’t think I’d ever seen the word “secret”. But the more we rubbed minds together, the more gossips bleeded their suffering, stinking, smelling, rotten, dirty and perverted mind towards us.
Seeing a valuable material like this, I wouldn’t want any form of malnourishment, maltreatment and relationship abuse to stain her dignity while I breathe. I would prefer curbing around her day and night just to give her hope and forget the stripes and scars the so called star of promiscuity has murdered to her heart, to opening my naked eyes for bad eggs to do more or exactly what the previous one has done.
Due to some circumstances, there was a time I stopped cooking with my ‘roomie’, and I was cooking as an individual. But due to some financial constraints, there were times feeding chameleoned to fasting.
This caring friend seeing this, she sympathized and scolded me for starving myself. “Hibikay, you are hurting me” that was the refrain she did recite like poetry anytime I didn’t dance to her tune in eating from her food. In the twinkle of an eye, her persuasion conquered my own persuasion. Her’s was David, mine was Goliath. I elucidated everything about my background. But for her to chase me away like bastard, she embraced me with her gorgeous smile, and I could see the kind of sobing look that had been on my face coming from her face also.
There were times I did stay in her room for the whole day. We played on each other’s nerves, threatened eachother, saw movie together, and certainly, when I’m damn hungry, I would tell her “Sudney, I’m damn hungry, we’ve had enough of play since morning”
Meanwhile, I knew within me that it’s been long my parent sent my possession. But we did make everything worked together. Time of troubles, crucible, turmoil and happiness, the perfect understanding was there.
The holy communion binded everything about us together like a prisoner chained by a chain. We wined and dined together, walked and talked together, in the same bowl we stretched forth our bare fingers to eat, our minds were mirrors, same thought flew in our brain, and we played, racked joke and proximity was dope.
Life will never be breathing if there is no ordeals. Tongue and teeth do quarrel on the hill. There was a time I composed a poem to acknowledge this damsel and she took it to be something else. I could not really depict the area where I offended her, but possibly because I sounded romantic there.
All what I could see was just a pandemonium between us. Her reaction towards me was like I’d done evil. But to pour hypo to my bleeding heart, I had to send her a message to hear her own view. On getting back to hostel, the expression on her face changed. Deeply within me, I had known my message had touched her.
As a simple lady, she came to my room discussing with my ‘roomie’, and he noticed that there was gap between Beatrice and I. But as a flexible lass, she had started asking me questions before my friend could dream of interfering in our matter.
“Hibikay, do you still need the handbook you asked for the other time?”, she asked. In pretence, I wanted to be pompous because she has finally spoken to me. But I still wanted to show my ego, and that made me gave her a faint response, “I don’t need it again”. I put my head on my mattress back, and continued looking at pictures on the pages all in the name of reading.
She also knew the issue was still in my mind, and as a good psychologist, she went out. And when my ‘roomie’ left the room, she came back inside.
“Hibikay, why did you say you don’t need the handbook again? Is it because of the misunderstanding we had?” she asked. For me to reply, I did not. I was just turning deaf ears to her words, and they were just having accident before getting to my hearing. “If it’s about the misunderstanding, I’m very sorry. You can’t just understand. Something happened and I wanted to be alone”, she added.
“I saw your message and it’s not about the poem you composed. I’m so sorry”, she concluded.
I didn’t add nor subtract from what she has said. All I told her was “I’ve heard you”. But when she asked again if I would still be needing the handbook, I said no.
Only heavens could know how we came back again. And this time around, each other’s emotion had been understood. This made us to be more sticked together like bread and butter.
We understood ourselves better, said sorry when need be, and the intimacy continued to bloom like flower without any iota of dating.
Though we were both forgotten ones. While she was endowed with star of promiscuity, I was endowed with cloud of travelling trick. But I didn’t really know to her, but my reason for this agapemone is to send all bad eggs far away. She had a fragile heart. And I wouldn’t want her to use tears as a balance diet daily.
The first lady that I would make to cry was Beatrice. This was when her examination was approaching, and this time around, I was also in the school. We would have had our own break during the one she had been doing before. And I prettily knew that my appearance would not make her to read very well. There’s always happiness when we be together, and I wouldn’t want her to be indolent in reading. It was at this particular time I murdered her heart.
Just a little word that wouldn’t hurt me on a normal shining of sun hurt me this day. And I left the room with my facial phase burning. She felt she hasn’t said too much, and she wanted to maintain her prestige. So she left me.
A day, two days, I didn’t eat what she cooked. I only tiptoed into her room when she’s not in to eat ‘Garri’. She was really hurt, and couldn’t decree to her tears to come not. She reported to Uche who happened to be someone that did understand.
I wasn’t at home before. But when I arrived, Uche was the first head to call me, and asked me what happened. I knew Beatrice would have reported, and I didn’t say anything than “nothing”. I found a way of closing the chapter and highlighted to Beatrice’ room. She was inside, and I warned her no to report me to anyone again.
It was during this that Uche came in and told Beatrice to tale what happened. As she was about to tale the tale, pool of tears was gulshing from her eyes. She was really hurt because I starved myself and didn’t eat. With all the stress of dishing the food. I was touched by the cry, but didn’t show it by face. Rather, I laughed it off and left.
It was in the evening when she was washing her dishes that I tried to bring the unison unity back. I had sensed her reading might be at risk with the way I saw her crying bitterly. I disturbed her very well. I carried the bowl she was using to wash to another place. But for her to talk, she was just shaking her head. But when she finally talked, it was after my persistent disturbance and the words I said to make her laugh.
Uche was observing and laughing. She shrieked at me to spare the innocent lady. But I didn’t stop. Other people were telling me to leave her. And at a time, I let her breathe.
After washing, she stayed inside reading and I entered. Nothing was hilarious, but I laughed like a drunkard. Like it’s a connection, she shaked her head and smiled with her charming cheek, and my head was elated by the smile.
“What the elder sees while sitting, the young might not see it if he climbs a tree”, this was what I said when I sat down. I apologized for hurting her, and told her it’s for her good. I decided to be angry that day till that moment because I wanted her to study. Not eating would seriously let her know I meant he business.
Hearing my claim, she felt worried. Firstly, that I could do that to make her study. And secondly, that finally her mind would be free because she didn’t know her offence.
It was later in the day when we were together that she felt like a queen by rubbing my huge hair because of the sacrifice. She claimed her reading was not really okay because she’s emotionally disturbed.
“I’m sorry”, I concluded with that.
Beatrice left a trait that twenty children can never play for twenty years.
During her Teaching Practice days, she travelled all the way to Oshogbo. The day she was going, my eyes was close to tears. I didn’t want her to know alongside Uche, as we were going to the express she would board a cab. I covered my face with her travelling box, so that she wouldn’t see my eyes that had turned red. Not for anger, but for missing. I couldn’t forget the feast of lips she gave to me before we left home. She observed I was moody, but cheered me up that it’s just s little time.
As we saw a cab when we got to the express, she gave me a friendly hug before she entered the cab. Uche knowing fully well that I was closed to tears, she held my hand as we cross and we left for hostel, while my heart was in missing tears.
Everyone would like to know if I would miss her. But before they travel far with their words’, “why won’t I miss my darling damsel” was the response I gave.
“Those that want to die should go and die” was the thought within me.
Coming back to her room was just like ocean of inferno to me. No one to rub minds together with again. I began to sense back the memory lane: The days we spent together under the baobab tree of the neighbouring officer. I couldn’t forget those days I shared my experience with the crushes I have with her. Amidst all, she adored Adeoye Wonderful.
Wonderful has been a paragon of beauty, epitome of high sage and possessor of sonorous voice. I doff to her virgin hair and angelic qualities. But I was restricted by ‘oga at the top’. For that to clear our connection, it would never. I wouldn’t just want a case of break-up within thier unionism, so I had to pave way, and give to caesar what belongs to caesar.
Beatrice’ love for Grace was also irreplaceable. They had been best of friends since the day they met in our school, when Grace came with her friends for a concert. I wasn’t opportuned to be there, so I had to send Beatrice to keep my Nigella’s company, not knowing my sacrifice will be tossed in the trash someday.
There’s nothing skeptical that she had been trying to bind the chain, but the chains were on different pages.
In the dusk, when the sun had gone to sleep, the missing was now ascending like that of Jesus to heaven. I remembered the time we did spend together at night, especially the moment of truth about the past. The moment of code mixing and code switching. But I had this thought that life goes on.
My birthday was a ‘wow’ for me. She had to travel down to celebrate me, and I was given the best enjoyment of life. I felt I was in paradise when she celebrated me with her surprise gift, and I felt ungrateful to her.
Her coming back from her voyage was another world for me. We had informed the slaves, owners of the land and the likes. This season was just to prapare my mind, heart and emotion for the second going. That of Jesus was a second coming, but her’s was second going. Because I knew a day would come to existence that she would go permanently.
Just like a dream, season goes, season comes. The day I had been begging God to shift came to living. I would surely want her to proceed to her degree programme, but it’s something else to me. Back in the days, I made her cry. But this time, situation made us cry.
My eyes could not fall of her, as she was going permanently to the University to study Law. She had promised she would never forget me anytime, anyday, any season, and for any reason. But ain’t sure if that would be really real. As she waved to me, it’s like the earth should embrace me and turn to dusk. I couldn’t hold myself, I ran towards her and gave her a close hug. For minutes, we were there shedding tears. “What is written is written, this is bound to happen”, a voice from the rare said.
As she was looking at me, she could read my mind that I was thinking of the day I said she would forget me someday, after she has been admitted. But she stood firm she would never. I had put it in my diary to remember in case it happens.
She told me this time again with her soft depressed voice “It will never happen”. Another drop of tears dropped from my eyes as she said this.
I decided to be strong and remained standing until she left for her domicile to the citadel of learning. A sentence was beating in my heart, “twenty children can never be friends for twenty years”. Having a deep thought on this, I shook my head in agreement, and wept, wept, wept and wept. For no one was watching me. I didn’t need to hide my feelings and pains flowing in my heart.


Questions to answer:
What do you find aesthetically appealing in the story, “Agapemone”.
What is the thematic consideration of the writer?
Juxtapose this assertion using the synopsis of the story: “A nation can be a better nation, if we can forget the past to remember the future”
What is the main reason why the love between the two that never dated seems not to be outdated?
If you were to give it another title, which title would you give it? And write a story of yours that goes along with your title in not more than 300 words.

There will be credit for clarity of expression and presentation
Send your answers to 08079411072 (WHATSAPP)

The Journey of a thousand year, with a step it starts.
All glory and honor be to God in the highest for the conclusion of the story. Though it was stressful at first, but the grace of God has lessened it. The graphics and the typing which were all done with my phone has really been challenging.
And to those that have spared there time in reading it, I celebrate you all. I really believe you might have gained something. Please, do answer the questions. Even if there is no adequate boldness to tender it, please still answer the questions to keep your time in your leisure. Read all over and over again, you will surely have the questions interesting.
However, like I highlighted in the opening words, if you think it worths publishing, please do help, and bring out the Samson in this lad from a humble background.
It was also affirmed that there shouldn’t be any form of plagiarism, publication or reforming without the author’s permission. Please lets take to this.
Moreover, I hope you must have known the nitty-gritty that had made the impossibility possible in the life of the hero amd heroine. If you still don’t know, or you are still doubting if it’s true, please do read again.
All in all, I celebrate you all for my birthday celebration. More creativity on the way.
Don’t forget to send your answers, questions and sincere comments here:
F.B: Oyedokun Ibukun Stephen

Thank you very much for dropping by. You will also be celebrated as you’ve celebrated me.


Oyedokun Ibukun Stephen with the pen name PENAWD is a nigerian poet, playwright and prolific writer.
Having Wolé Sóyínká as his role model, he is of the view to changing his adorable nation and the world at large for better through his pen, for “the pen speaks louder than violence”
Being a student of English in the University of Ibadan( Ilesa Catchment), he specializes in all genres of literature.
His enthusiasm for having an established oeuvre remains his priority regardless of the fact that he was not born with a silver spoon.”Brighter future ahead”he says.
To his credits, he has won contests, and his works hsve been privileged to be published online, and appeared in different platform of creativity.
To the glory of God, he has unpublished poems, short-stories and dramas, in which he has categorized into various collections, and hope the globe that hear and see someday.



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Judaisky is a young writer who believes the world can only be saved PEACEFULLY through the tidings of the ink cos the pen is mightier than the sword. Do You want to know more about me, contact me 09039956005

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