2 Timothy 1 – Short Poem

As I gaze at the weight, of the task at hand,

And wonder how I could be part of the plan,

I’m timid and weak, my words often fail,

Lord, why would you not, just choose someone else?


Someone with boldness, someone with faith,

Someone whose words, simply hold more weight,

Someone like Paul, who even in chains,

Still found a way, of proclaim your name,


But Father forgive me! Forgetful man,

It’s not for my actions, or things I’ve done,

It’s only by grace, and only your love,

Your purpose revealed, through Jesus the man,


Lord help us to stand, in this world full of sin,

As pressures to change, slowly weigh us in,

Clinging onto Christ, and his blood-drenched cross,

Your intimate love, at ultimate cost


©2018, by Gome

Image Credit: Tom & Jerry Online

Best of 2017: Blog Info-graphics

Abstract: As we are fast approaching the end of another year, its time for another annual blog review. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank each one of you for being a part of my journey with Reposed Thought. Your engagement and encouragement have been invaluable, and spur me on as a writer, designer and poet. Many thanks.

With so much to learn from, to be thankful for and to be challenged by, here are the stats from 2017 – the stuff you really cared about. Enjoy.

God bless.

Top 10 Posts:

Top 10 Blog Posts

  1. RT Evening Standard nomination: Best new-comer April Fools!! Lesson One – don’t believe everything you read on 1st April. On the flip side, I had lots of fun listening to friends congratulate me before reading further.. 😀
  2. 20 Favourite Poetic One-Liners (Rhyming) A compilation of my favourite lines from poems that I’ve composed. Enjoy!
  3. Love Your Neighbour- Short Poem Written  to go with a sermon from the bible passage Matthew 22:34-40.
  4. Zambia: Day Eleven – Final Goodbye Day eleven of 12: Part of a daily photography journal I kept whilst visiting my home country, Zambia.
  5. Zambia: Day One – Welcome HomeDay one of 12: Excitement, anticipation, reality. All the initial reactions & emotions of visiting home after 5 years.
  6. Screen Watching on the Train Reflections on this generations growing and worrying mobile phone addiction
  7. Zambia: Day Two – Copperbelt Day two of 12: Returning to my home city after 5 years; such a good feeling!
  8. Zambia: Day Five – Last of Kitwe Day five of 12: After a few days on the Copperbelt Province, it was time to head back.   
  9. London Bishopsgate – Walking Tour Photographic tour with a friend in one of the capital’s high-rise districts, Bishopsgate.
  10. 7 Days in B&W 7 days, 7 photo’s in black and white; No people. No explanations.

Top 10 Countries:

Top 10 Countries

Visitors to the blog came from a grand total of 53 different countries in 2017.

Countries as wide ranging as Venezuela, Namibia, Solomon Islands and Bulgaria. Thank you!

Most Popular Month:

Most Popular Month

April was by far the busiest month this year. This is mainly because of the ‘April Fools’ post and the daily photo journal of my trip to Zambia, my home country.

Stay tuned for more content in 2018.

Happy New Year!

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.”


20 Favourite Poetic One-Liners (Rhyming)


“Blinded by the lights, I’m drawn in by the crowds,

An eclectic group of people, rubbing shoulders without smiles”


“Started out as kids, stealing Pepsi cans and sweets,

But nowadays being stopped and asked questions by police”


“Life flashed by, I was soon reminiscing,

As slowly I drowned, in a plateaued Ambition”


“Yesterday she was the one, yet today we call her old news,

And move onto the next one, Our values greatly skewed”


“Our last conversation I now contemplate,

Abruptness of what followed made my heart disintegrate”


“But soon there would be trouble, and unforeseen change,

Which led to separation, and hearts so full of rage”


“Freedom of expression, hell-bent at its mastery,

But when it didn’t flow, anxiety seeped craftily”


“At this stark situation, tales of devastation,

Families ripped apart, and destroyed past restoration”


“His words cut through, like a dagger to the heart,

Exposing their hypocrisy; blind religiosity”


“Demonically possessed, with intent to spread fear,

Instead were met with bravery, and love beyond compare,”


“Mundane! Everyday is the same,

Wake up, go to work. Slowly going insane”


“What did they even mean by that? And why said in that tone?

I dialogue internally to calculate my wrongs”


“A queue jumper the highlight, as she mussels her way past me,

An angry woman shouts “Oi! You must be a nutter!”


“But little do they know you haven’t even got the foggiest,

But pride gets in the way, and you start speaking with such confidence”


“A choice between a criminal and him, they chose the latter,

And proceeded with mob justice, his back they whipped and battered”


“But no one else was there, so she posts pics on the internet,

900 friends, but no one there to share the moment with”


“Wish I said all of the things that were locked up in my mind,

But now times gone, it feels like I’m wasting mine”


“It’s cold, you’re ignored, and exposed to the elements,

Abandoned in negligence, considered irrelevant”


“The weight of this moment precedes grown men’s cries,

As we remember our dearly loved brothers who died.”


“Not much sleep was had as he set off at break of dawn,

The thought of being at sea always had his attention drawn.”

All the above poems are originals written & composed by the author of Reposed Thought:

© Gome

Thanks for stopping by

“Budget Airline Tales” – Short Poem


Time is 3am, my alarm starts ringing,

Abruptness of it cuts my dream, and leaves my head spinning,

My body screams “NOOOOO!” as it curls up in a whimper,

Early morning starts, even worse in the winter.

I trudge through the routine of getting up and ready,

Walk to catch the bus, half asleep, dazed but steady.

Urban city streets fast asleep and deserted,

A big yellow “M” and my attentions diverted.

Much needed diversion, though quite unhealthy start,

“A big mac with fries, please?” to help me break-the-fast,

20 past 4, the bus finally leaves the station,

And slowly fills up as we approach our destination.

Check-in feels too easy, like I hopped into a taxi,

A queue jumper the highlight, as she muscles her way past me,

Peoples politeness tested, as many start to mutter,

An angry woman shouts “Oi! You must be a nutter!!”

“Queue jumping like that, mate, its really quite rude!”,

“Over here in Britain, yeah, we love a good queue.”

I people-watch in departure lounge to gauge the crowd at hand,

A young couple on honeymoon, 3 lads part of a band,

A new-born baby’s cry can be heard through the roof,

A stag party for “Ricky”, lads on tour to Magaluf.

The gate number announced, a mad rush to be the first,

With hand luggage maxed-out, my arms about to burst,

Crowded shuttle bus ride, with no words ever uttered,

We walk up steps to board the flight, I’m absolutely shattered!

Crammed between a window seat and man with arms like boulders,

My legs are stiff, my back just clicked, the sun burns my right shoulder,

The cabin crew politely check to see we’re all intact,

Pilot speaks through muffled speakers, then we leave at last.

The sheer noise and vicious speed shakes me up inside,

As underbelly of plane and land gradually divide.

No music player or screens on board to keep us entertained,

But views outside spectacular, I really can’t complain.

We burst up through the clouds and slowly level out,

A selfie-takers dream, raised eyebrows and cheeky pout.

The toddler sat in front lifts his head over the seat,

A momentary pause as his eyes and mine meet.

Unsure if he should smile back or simply wail away,

I pull funny faces, before he cries and turns away.

“What kind of parent would I be?” is all that I could think,

He’d gazed at me so fervently and hardly even blinked.

I try to get a little sleep before the flight is over,

But two rows back, annoying chat just keeps my eyes wide open.

I ease drop with little choice, the thoughts of two loud males,

And reflect and write a little poem, of “budget airline tales.”

©2015, by Gome

“Tales of an Introvert” – Short Poem

Plant 1

Background: As I reclined late last Monday night and listened to Lupe Fiasco’s ‘Little Death’ instrumental, words gradually formed in my mind and a week and a half later, this is the result. Enjoy! Note: This is not the experience of everyone that would consider themselves an introvert.

As I sit and reminisce on a day gone by,

I’m left reeling, wishing “maybe I could turn back time?”

Wish I said all of the things that were locked up in my mind,

But now times gone, it feels like I’m wasting mine.

Feeling lost and alone like a dog without a bone,

Or better yet, a centre-back that’s not marking his zone,

Outcast, like a rapper that’s not flashing his chrome,

Though his got it in abundance, and everybody knows.

World seems like a puzzle that my piece won’t fit,

Say I’m shy and retiring, or I just don’t fit,

The world seems like a stage for those that are extroverted,

The thoughts of an introvert, poetically illustrated.

Opportunities to say things on the tip of my tongue,

When placed in a group, my head slowly drops to the ground,

Like a number in the crowd, feel I’m lost and can’t be found,

So I scramble for my scrapbook to ink thoughts down.

I recharge in solitude, for there lies my fortress,

Walks, music or books, the places I find my fortunes,

Acceptance not needed, I can be who I am,

For God loves me enough, he even came as a man.

Introverts such as Ghandi, Abe Lincoln and Einstein,

All well known thinkers, notable in their lifetimes,

So I don’t need to change how my image is portrayed,

For I know that I’m “fearfully and wonderfully made.”

© 2015, by Gome

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made”

Psalm 139:14

“Poor man’s tale” – Short Poem


Background: Inspired by an experience I had a few weeks ago when I walked passed two beggars who asked for money. My response was to politely say “sorry” and walk past. The thing is, I knew I had £5 in my pocket, but I made the assumption (like a lot of people, unless I’m alone) that they would use it for other illicit or unlawful means than food. But what if I was wrong? This poem challenges my prejudices from their perspective.

The lights shine bright in the city that never sleeps,

Yet as one of its sons, my heart and soul weeps,

World whizzes on by in its gluttonous deceit,

Not caring that the life within me slowly seeps.

Harsh winter, cold nights, begging others for mercy,

My existence unnoticed, and it really does hurt me,

Pretending to look busy, they ignore and walk past,

Left asking myself “how long will this pain last?”

Justifying their position, they assume I’m an addict,

Not knowing I’ve been clean for weeks, maybe a dozen?

Don’t judge me, I beg, as we’ve only just met,

A day in my shoes, you’ll say it’s much harder, I bet.

It’s cold, you’re ignored, and exposed to the elements,

Abandoned in negligence, considered irrelevant,

It’s harsh and its dark, looking out for fresh hope,

Instead of being caught up in the snare of blazing dope.

Just halt for a minute! Let me make this clear,

It’s not all my fault the reason that I am here,

If changes could be made, then believe me I would,

But for now, please view me the best way that you could.

© 2015, by Gome

The Angry Sharpness Monster

Background: Sharpness is a village in Gloucestershire county, England and is the location for my final year architecture project. This short fictional story is the result of a day-long story telling workshop which pushed our imaginations to create weird and wonderful stories. Here’s mine.


Dissolute! That’s the only way to describe it,
Nothing much to do there you could hardly even hide it.
But scratch under its surface and there lay vast opportunity,
A story told of fisherman Trevor and his near bravery.

Not much sleep was had as he set off at break of dawn,
The thought of being at sea always had his attention drawn.
Off he went red eyed and yawning like a hippo,
Under the iron bridge, through the lock and past the silo.

As mist and fog lay low over the Severn’s near horizon,
He suddenly steered violently to prevent a near collision.
“What was that,” he anxiously muttered under his breath,
As the sea arose he feared he’d capsize to his imminent death.

A dark slithering shadow appeared in the deep blue waters,
A moment of sheer panic replaced by thoughts of his wife and daughters.
With forearm over his brow, eyes squinting to try and see,
He finally realised what the mass in the river could be.

For years he’d heard tales of the beast that lay beneath,
Claiming the lives of fishermen with its gigantic teeth.
He would ordinarily pass these tales off as nothing new,
Or tales by blokes at the country club who’d simply ‘had a few’.

He charged back through the lock with monster in close pursuit,
Back under the iron bridge he tried to remain resolute.
So dark he couldn’t find his barring’s using the tall cranes,
He felt lost and trapped, like being bound in iron chains.

Only weapon on board was a plank and fishing rod,
But how would that challenge such a creature so thick and broad?
Up and down the canal his eyes rapidly browsed,
Knowing the anger of the Sharpness Monster had been aroused.

Suddenly! All fell silent and the waters remarkably calm,
And all he could hear was the voice of his nagging mum.
For just as all within him wanted to yell and scream,
He awoke relieved realising he’d simply had a bad dream.

(By Gome, 2014)