Blog Tour: Tolu A. Akinyemi on writing “Dead Lions Don’t Roar” and “Dead Dogs Don’t Bark”

Welcome to the blog tour for Tolu Akinyemi’s Dead Lions Don’t Roar and Dead Dogs Don’t Bark. I had a chat with the poet on his books and other interesting topics. Enjoy!

The titles of your two books are quite interesting and unique. What inspired them?

My book titles are metaphorical in nature and they are to inspire us to find our unique roar, bark, meow and growl. The titles are apt based on the poetic wisdom for the discerning series which I am currently writing about and it was inspired by the need to see people put their gifts and talents to positive use while there is still breath in them.

What was the writing process like? What part of writing the books will you always remember fondly?

The writing process was very much straight-forward as I knew the message I wanted to convey, and I tried my best not to change my approach. I think the best part of the writing journey I will always remember is seeing the books in print. That was an absolute joy.

It is usually said that, a writer’s work has bits of the writer’s personal experience in it. Is that the case with your books? And if so, how much of yourself is reflected in there?

I would say my second and third titles “Unravel your Hidden Gems and Dead Dogs Don’t bark reflect my personal experiences as the essay collection came about from my knowledge, intellect and experiences over the years and Dead Dogs Don’t Bark also reflect a bit of my experiences and some important people that have added value to my life over the years. There are occasions it will be difficult to detach the writer from the work especially for poetry collections. Continue reading

RaPoem: Murder in the Vestry by Shomuyiwa Oladapo

The upper room of the clergy

Men gathered together in the vestry

Diverse races in the attachment

United for the sake of a dying congregation.


Men with black thought, long ropes intertwined with a white mindset

They are just rainbows of colors that depict evil

If they cry you a river on the outside

You’ll feel much pity

But on the inside they are drops of the red sea.


Bullets exchange is the bureau they work with

From the auditorium to the Pastor’s corners

Winks of sorrow, finger signs while raising holy hands tend towards the shape of nine

Let’s reverse a case, then an illustration.


If Pilate was Jesus to be crucified,

The Jews won’t have yelled at the Messiah King

Torn vestments but you’ll see them walk together to hide their patches

The congregation had Jesus

But Pilate was the forsaken god.


Fed with lies now they sip syrup of hatred

Melody of loose rhythm, when the choir do songs with hook uncatchy

Staunch sinners

Heaven’s at sight but I see a more glorious view of hell

Believe me when I say they’ smooth players.


‘Cuz winking at a rev sister during service?

Y’all know they hold nun (none) like that

From the wink to sex on the sink

Her belly be bulging

For shame she abode with

Had a 9 in the vestry tucked in her garment

At the 9th hour…the sun was darkening…

A bullet went through the windows with a blood stain.


Murder…a trinity just died

Monk, nun and the unborn

They go seek solace in hell

Here is murder in the vestry

A place where nuns shoot monks for cock-sake.


Do you have a story, article, poem etc you’ve written & would love me to read and/or publish on my blog ( of course with credit to you)? Do you have second thoughts about your story and you aren’t sure if it is good enough? Is your long written creative work gathering dust somewhere and you would like a second opinion on it? Kindly send me a message ( ). I’ll love to read your work, critique your work and/or help you in any way possible. And of course, I’m not charging for it. Thank you.

I could have loved you


I could have loved you
But the stars aligned
To place two imperfect strangers
In a perfect ship of relation

I could have wanted you
I rem’ber days when
Our bodies tangled
Desired each other
But I could have wanted you
If our bodies had a mind

I could have needed you
But just as the sun rises in the East
And sets in the West
So did my feelings

I could have kissed you
But I heard tales of your poisoned lips
Sweet as Velvet tamarind
With death’s lurking sting.


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