The Lectern: My Sketchbook

The mellow is upon us yet again in this month’s edition of ‘The Lectern’. The ‘crazy architect’ we will be reading today is Hope; if you asked her, she would say that she only writes from a moist mind. After reading this, I was astounded by the moistness in mine.

As an aside, can we get some dudes with the ‘hammer-n-mortar’ write-ups please? Some fire-brand religious mojo, profanities, and hardcore life lessons abeg…any more mushiness here, and these writers will have me dripping eye-sweat all over :/ #Nuffsaid

Aaaaaaaaand so, for the month of May, of sketches, sketchbooks and…well, moisture (what?!), WAW brings you…Hope!

The Lectern01

…that we might be read



I gave it to you…my sketchbook. My most prized possession.

You said you’d sketch and draw for me

Flowers, trees and parks,

beautiful pictures of sunsets and sunrises, buildings too.

So I gave it to you, kept nothing back.


The first sketch was nothing but scribbles

Ugly ugly scribbles…like the markings of a demoniac.

And so I took it from you. I took my sketchbook back

Even though I didn’t want to.


Then you came back.

You were sorry, and you wanted to make it right

I forgave. Just like God taught me

I forgave. And I gave it to you again, my sketchbook.


But when I got it back, I saw worse markings

Very bad ones.

Each stroke tore at me like the claws of a fiery dragon

And sunk beneath my skin

Like a vampire’s fangs.


My heart broke again.

I took it from you. Again.

But you wouldn’t stop coming. You came back, each time

Looking more contrite. And I believed you, each time

So I gave. Again and again.

But I believed. Just like God taught me

I believed. And I gave it to you. Again and again.



There was only one page left.


You came again. For pardon

For one last chance

I had only one page left. I could not risk that.

Then you promised. Like God taught you

You promised. To make it up to me.

For all the ripped pages, the discarded ones. For my broken heart

To make everything alright.


And I gave.

I was hungry, searching for something beautiful. Vulnerable…what can I say?

But I gave. My very last page.

Because I believed.


You were a leopard. On the backdrop of your pale sincerity

Your spots shone…dark and unrepentant.

You did not just scribble this time. You neglected

My sketchbook.

My heart.


I found it drenched in the rain, scorched by the sun.

The little boys in the street played with it

Drunks fought over it…prostitutes spat on it.

Then you came along. And with your very hands

You tore it up into tiny bits and pieces…

…and the wind carried it away.


Then you came back

One more clean sheet, you wanted…even if only a scrap.

But I had none to give. I gave all I had to you.

So you left…sad.

And I cried.

Again. I cried.

Because I was hurt and heartbroken.

Because I had no beautiful sketches

Because I had no sketchbook.

I cried.


By Hope Eboh

Hope Eboh_The Lectern


Don’t forget to share with your friends and enemies, also take a minute to tell us in the Comments what you’re thinking about this one. If you have written something which you would like our readers to enjoy from ‘The Lectern’, or you just wan show yourself, attach and send it in a mail titled ‘The Lectern’ to If you are unsure about a subject matter, still reach out and we can work up something appropriate for you. It does not have to be right, left, right or wrong…just your opinion.



28 thoughts on “The Lectern: My Sketchbook

  1. Wow! At first I thought “what is she writing about?” Midway I figured it was your heart. Forgiving the same person over and over and they keep taking a part of you with them. Each time more and more till you have nothing to give anyone at all. It’s sad…not the poem that’s eye opening. The continuous back and forth is sad. Nice one here. My sketchbook 😀

  2. Sad, melancholic, yes, but beautiful anyway. It had me thinking, “Why does she keep giving him a chance?, I mean, after all he’s done”. But I guess this what happens to us, when we believe that there’s still some good left in people.

    • I couldn’t fathom it myself, Debbie…all those chances! God bless love, and the patience that comes thereof; sometimes it bites like in this piece, but there are times when it pays off, aren’t there? Methinks those few successes are the reasons we still try.

  3. One thing I love is when writers use what they love doing such as their practice to describe their gives this aura and magnanimity to literature..I love this Hope and knowing you personally, I’m not surprised at all; you’ve always been creative both on the sketchpad and with a pen

  4. wow, I loved the way she used a sketch book in place of the heart, and the way she illustrated the fact that it finishes. when u get to that point only God can give a new sketch book but I don’t think we should wait till it’s finished……. or what do u think?

    • Well, I don’t know anybody that wants to share all of his/her stuff until he/she has none left, especially getting nothing in return. The question that concerns me though is, do you know how many leaves your own sketchbook has got? Does anybody?

  5. You did not tell me it was a poem…
    You did not tell me it was this kind
    Yet you posted it on my wall; leaving me to hope. To hope that the she who has given me a page or two, three or four will not read..
    After all said and… It was a beautiful piece only a lady at heart could craft! Sorry, draw!

  6. “You were a leopard. On the backdrop of your
    pale sincerity”…………..
    nice poem all d same evn though I seem 2 get d source nd reason 4 d poem

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