Klynic

Feel free to share your thoughts about all or some of the poems in WHEN WORDS FAIL.  I am sitting at the edge of my seat in anticipation, I love you guys.  #yourfavouritewriter THE KLYNIC

Art has come to stay, and how we choose to express it matters a lot. We are fortunate to have talented vocalists in our world today who use their aesthetic vocals to bless all of humanity, sometimes it's the artists who use their brushes to paint our souls on their canvas. The truth is, at the very core of Art, you would find words. Without words, the vocalist would only hum tunes that would make you smile but wouldn't convey any meanings, without words you would not be able to interpret a fine painting when you see one, so... words are important. Why am I stressing on words? Here is the thing, having a perfect understanding of words and how to bend them to cause desired results is truly pure art. One form of art that constantly excels in this is POETRY, and in recent times we have seen the SPOKEN WORD genre grow bigger and stronger. THIS IS THE GOSPEL is a perfect blend of music and poetry delivered in the most excellent lines that will cause you to pause and reflect

Mყ ɳαɱҽ ιʂ Kʅყɳ Aƙɯαɾαɳԃυ Ⴆυƚ ყσυ ƈαɳ ƈαʅʅ ɱҽ ... "𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒦𝐿𝒴𝒩𝐼𝒞" Lҽƚ'ʂ ɱҽҽƚ ɱҽ 🆃🅷🅴 🆆🆁🅸🆃🅴🆁 Fondly associated with my pen name, 'Klynic', I started writing officially in 2016, when I published my first book and eventually started this blog. The reviews from that book and my many students who bought the book way back in 2016 were the needed push to remind me of my gift and how I could really use it to impact people, so I married my pen and the writing journey began. I write: Scripts Screenplays Poetry Short stories Blogs Copies and I also Ghostwrite. One of the high points in my writing career was in the year 2019 when one of my short stories got me into the 'STORY STORY' class of the Africa International Film Festival . It was a dream come true and it gave me the opportunity to meet young writers from all over Africa and eventually make it into the Screenwriters Guild of Nigeria. ＲＥＡＤ ＭＹ ＳＨＯＲ

They say men and women bled to give you life Many of whom are forgotten with each passing year Yet still, you smile and love despite the growing strife It’s fine, I wouldn’t tell... if you shed a tear How many of your children remember your fight How many see the hole they create every time they run Far away from you with all their souls might Leaving you to the mercies of those who watch you burn For every call you make for them to come home They go further still, denying their ancestry They traverse the world, sailing from Greece to Rome Avoiding your borders with purposeful artistry The few of us who make you smile The very few who stay true to origin Driven by greed, soon become guile Separated from you by a very broad margin It hurts, I know it hurts so bad Each time I write I hear you weep Begging to smile again and not stay sad Hoping your love, we will one day... keep Africa, mother like no other Africa, hear today the crie

THE KLYNIC - Songwriter, screenwriter, blogger, Author, Husband, Father, Brother and Friend . Songwriting is art, art in it's purest form. It is one of the oldest methods of storytelling that dates all the way back to the time of our fathers and foremothers😁. Many things we know about our world today, were embedded in songs and passed from generation to generation, and it's only common to find songs that have transcended time, and the few that are particular to a select group of individuals.  DISCLAIMER: There are no hard or fast rules to songwriting, so I'm not about to give you formulas here.   One thing you should keep in mind is the fact that storytelling at its very core, needs to evoke empathy or its communication will be shortlived.  I was honoured to be invited by Aijay  to her wonderful corner😉, where she lets professionals guide her followers on certain things that relate to their field. I would not be teaching you how to write son

...continued from  part 1 The call dropped and Frank sat-up on his bed. His mind was still restless from the events that occurred after work hours. The only image that stayed constant amidst his chaotic thoughts was Kaffi. Her beauty still occupied his very vivid imagination, her smile, her eyes, her voice, the way she exuded confidence even when she was being mischievous. He knew he wasn't supposed to be thinking of her this way, not after what just happened at her place, but he couldn't help it, his thoughts were conflicting right now and he needed to put them in check before he gets consumed by his lust. Rising from his bed, he walked to the mini-fridge in his bedroom, opened it and withdrew a cold drink to wash down the unwholesome thoughts that paraded his subconscious... it wasn't working. Still clutching the drink in his hand, he wandered towards the TV area and turned on the TV, the screen stared back with "NO SIGNAL"..."How rich," h

Monday morning came with its usual nagging and longing for more bedtime, but Frank was already used to it. The shrill cry of the weird Chinese melody that was supposed to be his alarm tune never failed him. Now fully awake, he stood up, stretched his limbs and chuckled soon as he noticed his breakfast boner, reaching for the air-conditioner remote on his nightstand, he turned the cooling unit off, then walked across the room to switch on the lights. After bathing, he got dressed for work and sat down on the bed. Opening one of the nightstand drawers he retrieved his daily devotional which he read before kneeling and praying for a little over ten minutes; fellowship with the Holyspirit was very important to him. After praying, he grabbed a particular notepad from the only table in the room and stuffed it into his backpack before exiting the house. Frank got to his workplace a little earlier than usual, so he seized the opportunity to follow up on th