Nibstears Literary Cave

Nibstears Literary Cave Nibstears Literary Cave was founded by Poet Loaded Akinwemimo Idris so to bring the lost progress back to society through literary perspectives.

This is a literary foundation that touches life through all genres of literature. This organization organizes poetry competition with conscious and progressive themes so to change and influence the thinking of the youths . Winners of our competitions are being awarded with both monetary and material prizes. Visitation to both Nursery and Primary Schools for sensitization I'm seminars is also part

of the packages for the youths so to awake their unconscious minds towards the norms being expected of them as youth for the society, we believe that these pupils are being corrupted in one way or the other and there is a need to restructure their thinking and their attitude. Donation of prizes for these pupils

We blame it more on the parents who aren't providing cares for their daughters in their tender ages; Prevalence Among A...
26/03/2026

We blame it more on the parents who aren't providing cares for their daughters in their tender ages; Prevalence Among Adolescents: Research indicates that while the overall abortion rate in Nigeria is approximately 33 per 1,000 women (ages 15–49), the incidence among young girls is disproportionately high due to a high rate of unintended pregnancies.

Meanwhile, the societal reactions, and holistic comments to our young girls damage their confidence to sustain the pressure, carry the pregnancy and deliver. Fe-Rites is hosting a talk on this concern soonest. It is high time we maintained our lanes and stop meddling !

Nibstears is glad to celebrate with Poetess Retalic as today marks a newer journey in her life. We appreciate your love ...
26/02/2026

Nibstears is glad to celebrate with Poetess Retalic as today marks a newer journey in her life. We appreciate your love for us at Fe-Rites, may your days be long. Happy birthday dear.

Love isn't always soft.Who said love was soft?Love isn't a fairy tale Nor is it always a happily ever after.Memories hau...
15/02/2026

Love isn't always soft.

Who said love was soft?
Love isn't a fairy tale
Nor is it always a happily ever after.
Memories haunting you like a ghost.

Love is just a trap, holding you in its claws.
A little distraction from your dreams and goals.
Its holding you by your throat, not leaving room for you to breathe.

Making you feel empty, when love finally leaves.
Reminding you that being alone was far better.
Love is a paradox , love isn't soft.
Never is and never will it be.
It's a fire that burns and finally consumes.
No, love isn't soft.

KITAN ❤️❤️

Three Simple WordsThings were never said.I used logic, reason —built walls out of senseto survive the silence.So many ye...
15/02/2026

Three Simple Words

Things were never said.
I used logic, reason —
built walls out of sense
to survive the silence.

So many years
lost in confusion,
measuring love
by words that never came.

But today I know —
Dad did love me.
More than anything
in his world.

Things were never said.
Yet now I’ve learned
how heavy silence can be,
how holy those small sounds are.

“I love you.”
Three simple words.

You love me.
And somehow
that is enough.

Dear Love,To the one who taught me love,This is no mere letter, but a bouquet of a thousand affections.I wandered in cir...
14/02/2026

Dear Love,

To the one who taught me love,
This is no mere letter, but a bouquet of a thousand affections.

I wandered in circles as though ensnared by fate, yet ever did I return to my origin — when time was still filled with sunshine and smiles.

I never knew how silence might shatter the soul, for you filled every void with hearty laughter.

If love were a gateway to hellfire, you would have booked a business-class ticket without hesitation.
Each touch, each uttered word, each smile, and even the stillness between us bore intention. Love seemed effortless, as though written in the stars.

“I love you” three gentle syllables that might have healed a wounded heart yet they struggled to slip off my tongue. It hurt then, but at last, I comprehend the true nature of love.

Yours,
Love.

Baseerah's writes

"Tangled in Love"We did not fall—we drifted,like threads in careless wind,until your laughter brushed my silenceand stit...
14/02/2026

"Tangled in Love"

We did not fall—
we drifted,
like threads in careless wind,
until your laughter brushed my silence
and stitched its way within.
Now here we are—
not trapped,
but tenderly tied,
your dreams knotted with mine
in patterns time cannot divide.

Your voice wraps round my worries
like ivy round a wall,
turning cracks to gardens,
teaching broken light to fall.
Our fingers lace in quiet codes,
soft promises they prove—
every pulse a gentle whisper:
Stay.

We have nothing left to lose.
If love is a labyrinth,
then let us wander slow—
every twist a deeper knowing,
every turn a glow.
For I am gladly tangled,
no wish to break apart—
your name a golden ribbon
curled safely round my heart.

And should the world grow restless,
or try to pull us through,
let it find us smiling—
beautifully askew.
Not perfect, not unbroken,
but fearless as the dove—
two souls, forever woven,
tenderly tangled in love. 💕

Judie~ 🖊️

*Things Were Never Said*We were lovers sworn in silence,Thee and I, betwixt the stars’ soft gleam,Two hearts that spake ...
14/02/2026

*Things Were Never Said*

We were lovers sworn in silence,
Thee and I, betwixt the stars’ soft gleam,
Two hearts that spake in secret glances,
Where words were perilous, and stillness, our dream.

I bore my longing as a hidden sonnet,
Penned not on parchment, but upon the air,
’Twixt thy nearness and mine own trembling,
A sacred truth none but heaven might dare.

Thy name did linger ’pon my lips,
A prayer half-formed, a sweetness divine,
Too holy for the world’s coarse hearing,
Too tender for the tongue of time.

O cunning love, how dost thou contrive,
To forge a kingdom of things unsaid,
To make a fleeting touch more mighty,
Than aught the lips might dare be read.

We were poets of restraint and measure,
Building epics in the pause of breath,
Letting devotion bloom in moonlit shadow,
Unwitnessed, yet alive beyond all death.

Yet, perchance, the sorrow lieth not
In absence of love, but love unspoken,
Like verse unfinished, or music captive,
Within a lute by mortal fingers broken.

Still do I wonder, sweetly, softly,
If truest love is that which trembleth
Upon the edge of speech,
The things we never said,
Too vast, too tender, to endure the world’s noise.

—Mariam

YOURS, IN INK.I have always treasured the ink as a serious thing.It is not what can be erased,It never forgives you.Ink ...
14/02/2026

YOURS, IN INK.
I have always treasured
the ink as a serious thing.

It is not what can be erased,
It never forgives you.

Ink remembers.

Growing up,
I watched my father sign documents
with a blue biro.

He would pause
before pressing the tip to paper,
as though understanding
that once it touched,
there would be no apology,
no reconsider.

Ink means commitment.
Ink is consequence.

So when I say
I am yours in ink, My Valentine...
I am not being poetic.

I am being deliberate.

Before you,
I lived in Archives.

I spoke only to stop mid-sentences.
If anyone asked,
I could say,
It was nothing.

I could erase myself
and start again.

But you arrived
and refused
to be written lightly.

You have a way of looking at me
that feels like revision

not the kind that deletes,
but the kind that clarifies.

You look as though
you are reading me closely,
as though you have decided
I am worth the ink.

I did not fall in love with you loudly.

There were no violins.
No dramatic thunderclaps.

It was quieter than that.

It was the way
you say my name
as if it has weight.

The way you listen
without preparing your reply.

The way you stand beside me
not in front,
not behind

beside.

And slowly,
I began to change tense.

I stopped speaking of myself
in conditionals.

I stopped saying maybe.

I stopped shrinking my desires
into polite footnotes.

Loving you, Dearest,
has been like signing
my full name
for the first time.

Do you understand
the magnitude of that?

A woman who has spent years
abbreviating herself
does not expand carelessly.

She measures the cost.
She calculates the risk.
She considers the possibility of being left
with a page
she cannot rewrite.

And still,

I choose ink.

Because ink does not shout.

It settles
into the fibers.

It becomes part
of the paper’s memory.

Even when the page grows old
and yellow,

the ink remains
darker
than everything around it.

That is how you are in me.

Not as a fever.
Not as a reckless obsession.

But as something steady
and unden

TO THE ONE THAT TAUGHT ME LOVE Issac, your face show your show shine.Na you be my sunshine, come rain come night.When ...
14/02/2026

TO THE ONE THAT TAUGHT ME LOVE

Issac, your face show your show shine.
Na you be my sunshine, come rain come night.

When my head dey spin with the whole world issues, you say make I chill say you go light my world.

Isaac, na you look me tell me how my smile dey brighten the world, na you make me know say the moon dey shine even when the cloud dey dim.

Dem no fit stop us, na you be the one who teach me say love no blind love dey see.

That is why, I can walk on celestial lamp of happiness, peace and satisfaction.

To the one who taught me how to
Love, I can bring the world down to your feeth.


© Happiness Pen™

01/02/2026

"VISCERAL" by Retalic

More and more outreach programmes for our villages!
26/11/2025

More and more outreach programmes for our villages!

Address

Ibadan

Website

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