Thorns. Bed. And Roses. By ‘Lanre Bucknor

The smell of your fragrance
In my room
In my bed
Lingers long
Long after you’ve left

The smell of your fragrance
Leaves your presence
Right here
With me
In my heart
In my soul

The sweetness of your fragrance
Radiates the shadow
Of your figure
The melodious tone of your voice
Music to my hearing
Twinkles to my eyes
Food to my soul

The aroma of your fragrance
Left on my pillow
Still has full effect
On my being
After you left

You’ve left
But your fragrance lingers

You’ve left
Never to return!

‘Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and wrote this for those who miss someone whom they have considered important at some point but looking deep down, the best thing that happened to them was the someone leaving their lives.

‘Lanre believes there is nothing bad in missing these kind of people for, they leaving doesn’t necessarily make them bad but could mean an open door for someone better and perfect fit to walk through. A form of answered prayer!

‘Lanre can be found on twitter and Instagram via the @lordrooz handle.


One Billion+ Seconds and the man of value By ‘Lanre Bucknor

“I do not sit with men of falsehood nor do I consort with hypocrites.
I have hated a mob of evildoers and I will not sit with wicked people” –
Psalm 26: 4-5

One billion+ seconds ago, my mum was rushed into the legendary Island maternity hospital in Lagos island – a baby boy was brought forth from that endeavour and that tiny little boy, one of the numerous that came out in that same hospital and across the world was the one who penned this piece.
My mum, now popularly and fondly referred to as Iya Rainbow as christened by her last son, survived the excruciating pain of childbirth for the third time and lived to survive two more of the same.

In the Yoruba folklore, there is a title/ nomenclature called Borokinni, this is the person I intend being, for I do not attach too much importance to money but does same to the concept of Value.

Do not get me wrong, I want money just like everyone else does – as money plays a big part in enhancing value and value as they say, is the capacity to satisfy wants.

Borokinni isn’t that person who might necessarily have so much money but at
any point at which he needs to get stuffs done, the means by which he will achieve that endeavour will happen – Borokinni is not a rich guy per se, he is a man of value.

Borokinni is the man who gets things done right when he needs it!

Surah At-Talaq, Verse
ูˆูŽูŠูŽุฑู’ุฒูู‚ู’ู‡ู ู…ูู†ู’ ุญูŽูŠู’ุซู ู„ูŽุง ูŠูŽุญู’ุชูŽุณูุจู ูˆูŽู…ูŽู† ูŠูŽุชูŽูˆูŽูƒู‘ูŽู„ู’ ุนูŽู„ูŽู‰ ุงู„ู„ู‘ูŽู‡ู
ููŽู‡ููˆูŽ ุญูŽุณู’ุจูู‡ู ุฅูู†ู‘ูŽ ุงู„ู„ู‘ูŽู‡ูŽ ุจูŽุงู„ูุบู ุฃูŽู…ู’ุฑูู‡ู ู‚ูŽุฏู’ ุฌูŽุนูŽู„ูŽ ุงู„ู„ู‘ูŽู‡ู ู„ููƒูู„ู‘ู
ุดูŽูŠู’ุกู ู‚ูŽุฏู’ุฑู‹ุง

And He provides for him from (sources) he never could imagine. And if anyone puts his trust in Allah, sufficient is (Allah) for him. For Allah will surely accomplish his purpose: verily, for all things has Allah appointed a due proportion. Q62:3

At a particular point this year, I clocked one billion seconds on the surface of the earth, whether it is a milestone to cherish or celebrate is a matter of relativity but the fact that I have learnt to appreciate giving value more than just money is a testament to how well one have understood this life – A life of vanity.

I have since regarded my birthday as more of a countdown to my last day than to more years here for I am not guaranteed living the equivalent of the number spent here already, but only hope and pray that one does do more.

As I have clocked one billion seconds and for every breath worth much more in this vanity called life, I treat myself as my own muse at least once a year, I usually wonder what the earliest memories of my life was like and also wonders what I would be remembered for, once I leave the surface of mother earth.

That once in a year period is the supposed day recognised by law as the day I was brought forth unto mother earth and like I did on that day when this happened – I will cry if I want to.



I have come to know that death is an important thing to keep in mind – not to complain or to make melancholy, but simply because only with the honest knowledge that one day I will die, I can ever truly begin to live 

– R. A. Salvatore





Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and this, is just another 20th December post.

‘Lanre can be further engaged on twitter and instagram via @lordrooz

People, be good people by ‘Lanre Bucknor

A mortal once said to me;

“Maybe when we have more good people

The world won’t be so tiring

So tiring to live in”


We keep looking for good people

In the world


What we have failed to do

Or realise is; 

Some of us have to be the good people

For ourselves

And for others

We have to see the good people

In ourselves


We must become the good people

For, we must understand

That good recognises good

Just like real recognises real

Because whatever we want from life

And from people

And from the creator

We must give it first

we don’t get appreciated 

Regardless of how much we try
We shouldn’t care

We should not be bothered
Because we are being good 

for ourselves 

and for no one else. 

No need to wait 

for gratification

Be it instant

Or of a future kind from any man
The reason why others hurt us 

and make us vulnerable 

is because of expectations, 

and that’s where we should turn. 

Never expect anything from anyone. 

Just do you! 

Just do good
We must understand the adage:

The adage of the birds

Of feathers

About Flocking.
We must understand the yoruba adage

Talking about the legendary 

“Iro and iborun”

‘Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and takes a cue from Q4:36. Mortal as referred here is a certain Miss Zuwaerah Aramide Daba.

‘Lanre can be further engaged on Instagram and twitter via the @lordrooz handle.

Do not get married, If….. [The concluding part] By ‘Lanre Bucknor

This is a sequel to an earlier published article. You can find the first part of these instructive nuggets here.


โ€‹6. If you are not ready to stop competing with the Jones’. Let the Jones’ buy their yacht when you are still walking, and enjoy the walk.

 Your journeys are different. You must be ready to pace yourselves: stop competing, stop spending your future before you get there. Stop the debt, stop trying to impress people. More importantly, be content!

Enjoy your journey without deciding your happiness simply by measuring your progress against other people.

7. If you are not ready to be an open book. To tell the whole story of your past, deal with the memories, expose the failures and risk rejection. The past is a touchy and demanding friend. 

It doesnโ€™t enjoy being ignored and the more you snob, the bolder it becomes and the more tantrums it throws.

It will mess up the โ€œneatโ€ and โ€œall together lovelyโ€ image that you are struggling to maintain.

8.  If you are not ready to let go of your philandering and wild oats farming. 

Donโ€™t take somebodyโ€™s son or daughter and subject them to your germs, your indiscretions and your chips fungus. It never ends well.

9. If you are not ready to let go of the adrenalin rush of a risque life and to settle down. 

The great Columbus had a diary that was long sought for. People wanted to read about the wild journeys, the sea tempest, the reckless pirates they fought, the death and the danger they must have encountered. When it was found, there was great disappointment.

Majority of the pages simply had 5 words: โ€œThis day, we sailed on.โ€.

Marriage, like life in general, has many โ€œwe sail onโ€ days. You have to learn to find the thrill in the normal everyday of it

If you depend on wild romance, all night sex, romantic cruises, wild parties, compulsive moves across continents, tempestuous fights and make up sessions to be happy, you may be disappointed.

You have to learn to thrill in gentle smiles, loving hugs, knowing looks, cozy moments, shared chores, everyday work, dreaming together, PRAYING together and simply living together.

If these things are not thrilling, exciting and satisfying, you will look for a way out.

The one you choose must be thrilling to you even in the most mundane of moments.

10. Finally, don’t get married just because you FEEL, you will not feel forever. Love is hard, marriage is harder.

You’re in for a rude shock if you marry because you get butterflies in your tummy at the thought of him/her.

Most importantly, PRAY for your future marriage partner constantly! 

Finally, please get married for the prophet stated something instructive in the image below:

Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and is not the author of these nuggets but just fortunate enough to have shared these beauties as two blog posts.

Credit for this and the first part is due to the following:

Ope Ajala – @AjalaYemi on twitter, who faved the thread and created another thread of which this is one of.

A lady simply known as Flower with handle @missdimples_21 on twitter for sharing as a thread after someone sent to her too. 

And of course, to ‘Lanre, who can be found on twitter and Instagram via the handle @lordrooz

Do not get married, if… [A storified extraction] By ‘Lanre Bucknor

Books and social media have over the years form a part of my getaway from the physical world plan. The book part, I have toned down on, to a lazy stage, well, I have always been lazy.ย 

But on one of my forays into my social media getaway, I stumbled upon a series of tweets on Twitter, the one referred to as thread and so, I found it very instructive and decided to share. Of course, with the implied permission of the tweeter: “Flower – @missdimples_21.”

The lessons were broken into bullets and comes in ten parts but for the purpose of blogging, I have broken them into two parts. 5 bullet points for each blogpost.

Don’t get married;

1. If youโ€™re not ready to delay gratification when your are angry. To hold your tongue, lower your voice and sometimes wait till the appropriate time, to deal with an issue thoroughly.

Immaturity is the inability to delay gratification.ย 

Marriage is for the mature!


2. If you are not ready to leave center stage and allow someone else to become your focus, your study, your muses – donโ€™t get married.

Selfish people make very bad spouses. In marriage you donโ€™t lose yourself but your heart has to be big enough to gain someone else.


3. If you are not ready to stand up and calmly deal with meddling in-laws as a united front: The opinionated sister, the insensitive uncle, the domineering father, the mannerless brother, the nosy aunt


4. If you are not ready to pay bills. LOVE DOES NOT PAY BILLS
Electricity companies will not give a waiver because your love is so strong and your gazes at each other are so romantic.


5. If you are not ready to let go of your opposite sex โ€œbest friends” and invest that into your spouse.

To like, to laugh, to play, to be silly and to enjoy life with them, above anyone else.

Most times Affairs happen because people did not marry their best friends. Someone else holds their heart. Someone else gets them better. Someone else inspires them more. Marry your best friend and cultivate your friendship so that you remain best friends.

To be continued……

The second and concluding part drops in a bit.

‘Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and he is not yet married. Read again, not yet married but will do so one day so soon for he is hungry to.


Please, do not ask him when he will marry, for he and everyone knows that the only day he will marry is on his wedding day which apparently isn’t here yet.


‘Lanre can be found on twitter and Instagram via @lordrooz handle.

This Poet and the Prophets [Rhymes and Reasons] by ‘Lanre Bucknor

This poet is a prophet 

Calling the Atlantic’s natural reset 

With arsenal doing the Lacazette 

And good things coming with being patient

This poet is a prophet 

Preaching good with a divine content

 Ruing  the death of idlemindset 

And calling shots with future mindset 

This poet is a prophet 

Embracing light from engulfing darkness

 Ignoring the  spoon in devil’s buffet 

And making light of ugly concept 

This poet is a growing prophet 

Like the apple papa Adam once ate 

We humans will err and always defect 

But like him, we must quickly repent 

This poet is an awesome prophet 

Like Fela, whose message is so potent 

And his loads of intelligence quotient 

Like Mandela, his reasons are so cogent 

This poet is a noble prophet 

Preaching how Islam loathe insurgence 

also, hypocritical pretence 

And calling HIS names without reverence


The prophet was a beautiful poet

 Delivering lines with Allah’s intent 

Through the angel who is most eminent 

With the Hira serving as his comfy tent

Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and is neither a prophet nor a poet. ‘Lanre just does his thing and right here, leaves you with Pa Socrates above.

Also instructive is Q4:69.

‘Lanre can be further engaged on twitter and Instagram via @lordrooz

I didn’t cry when my Dad died by ‘Lanre Bucknor


“1955 was a very great year”

That was the caption on the most beautiful birthday card I have ever seen in my entire life!

The card came in 3 folds and there were descriptions and animated illustrations of great events that happened that year and then, the closing line to cap it all off was:

“And then, you were born!”

The card was one of the many gifts my dad’s friends, they fondly called themselves ‘Friendship circle of Nigeria’, presented him on his 40th birthday. This day was 23rd of june, 1995.

I didn’t cry when my dad died.

My dad attended an adult class to learn a bit of fiqh and how to read the Qur’an, he told a story of how a few months to his class’ graduation, he couldn’t read a word of the Glorious Qur’an, he couldn’t cope, he wasn’t able to move with his peers, how he was lagging while his classmates were flying, he was struck out of the class graduation list and then just when the whole world thought he wasn’t going to graduate with his class, the miracle started unfolding before everyone’s eyes. My dad started catching up and on the 11th of November, when the ‘pupils’ of Dawah intensive weekend arabic course class of ’94 had their graduation, a certain man with the brightest smile in the world was seen filing out with the graduands: the man was my dad!

Less than a month from this day, precisely 4th of december, he was seen standing with his wife and his first son receiving the certificate of Qur’an graduation for his first son too.

But I didn’t cry when the man died.

I was a brilliant boy, I used to top class in my elementary school days. My parents were used to seeing me at the top of the log, I was a local champ and my immediate environment was used to it too. But when in 1997, the local champ found himself 3rd on the log in first year in high school, my dad was metaphorically shocked such that he took out time and visited Ansar Ud deen college to see for himself little Mr Inegbese Philip and Awolusi Taiwo, the man smiled, patted both lads on the back and moved on.

But I didn’t cry when he died.

One night in the same year, I asked my dad what Bucknor meant, he told a story very intelligently which I now think is probably a myth of how greatest grandpa Bucknor was a nomadic sailor who had sweet tongue and gets any woman he wishes, he went on saying ancestor Bucknor was actually a Portuguese who had wives every where he went on the west African coast and so, that explains why we had relatives all over the coast of west Africa!

Later that year, My dad and I took a road trip to Agouรจ, a very beautiful little village in the people’s republic of Benin where a kind of family reunion was held, that was my first time off the border of Nigeria and it was just the two of us!

But I didn’t cry when he died!

June 1998, my dad fell Ill and was admitted at Mount Sinai hospital. We visited him, for the illness really knocked him out. He was a strong man beyond life itself and when he was bed ridden, it was an eye opener for everyone. Two days later from when my dad fell ill, I was admitted too, I had fallen ill!

My dad was certified fit days later but the man didn’t Leave the hospital. On the day Nigeria was to play Bulgaria at France ’98 world cup, a very ill me insisted I had to see the game, there was no TV in my ward, my dad practically carried me to the reception, I am sure I didn’t see up to 10 minutes of the game before I drifted off.

Next I opened my eyes the next morning, I was back on my ward bed. Legend said my dad carried me back there. I looked to my right, the man was smiling back at me, patted my head and relaxed his back on the bed next to me which had no sheet.

Apparently, he had been told to go home but he chose to stay – with me! We left the hospital together on the same day, although he had been certified fit and discharged days earlier.

But I didn’t cry when he died!

I would have probably cried if I was half the man my dad was. The man was fearless and was practically living more for others than for himself. My dad will make sure everyone around him fared well even if he had so little, he would even give out of the little he had to friends, families and even strangers.

My dad will take time out to cook a meal for the home, he was a great cook too and he cooked delicacies, usually not your everyday meal. I initially find it hard knowing the hand he uses, for he stirs soup from the pot with his left. I suspect he was initially a left handed fellow before Alhaja reset his hand usage orientation.

My dad aided this skill I seem to have, my dad enhanced my reading skill and writing leanings, my dad influenced my never give up attitude, the service to others inclination, my dad inspired me beyond measures.

But my dad wasn’t born a saint!

My dad was your usual Lagos island boy, your proper isale eko guy who did all ‘omoboy’ stuffs except indulging in crime but my dad turned out a very good man such that he was said to have whispered the Shaadah as his last breath!

And so I believed, even if i wasn’t there, for once when he couldn’t talk and was struggling with his speech during his last days, he was given zam zam water and my dad’s first statement was; Allahu Akbar (God is Great) repeatedly. And so, because my dad was said to have whispered the shaadah and because I was the weakest human in the world at that point, I shut out the wailings around me and his life and struggles flashed before my eyes and I couldn’t cry.

I didn’t cry when he died but I went in where he was laid to rest and sobbed gently on his lifeless heart! I didn’t cry when my dad died but I wailed uncontrollably when he was lowered into mother earth.

I didn’t cry when my dad died but I have cried at intervals in the last 16 years and sobbed when penning this piece.

I have everything he did in my head, I remember the kind of man my dad was, I wish I could be half the man he was, I wish I could possess half the heart he had but I can’t tell all. I can’t go on, for I’d become a bore and I’d probably shed bucket full of tears.

I didn’t cry when my dad died but now, I am in tears!

‘Lanre Bucknor writes from Lagos and would have named this 1955 but then, what would have happened to 2001? For, every man have two sure days; the good and the bad days as well as the day he was born and the day he dies.

But then, glorious Qur’an already told us something very instructive in Q2:156.

‘Lanre can be further engaged on twitter and instagram via @lordrooz