Tag Archives : Poetry

Issue 6


Editorial Wale Ayinla   Don’t Forget Me Dika Ofoma   Two Poems Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale   For Things That Became Part of Us Amao Williams Praise   He Wasn’t That Scared Okwudili Nebeolisa   A Late Tale of Bemusement Madukwe Anthony   Two Poems Elisabeth Horan   Two Poems Gaamangwe Joy Mogami   All the Lights Going Out Gbenga Adeoba…

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When the wind was heavy on the borderline by Chisom Okafor


after Yusef Komunyakaa The voice that comes with the winds at nightfall is a refuge seeker’s, dying inside my head. His socks; two burning cities, rise like carbonsmoke. The wind undressing him, is best served cold best unveiled in the space between full-light and sundown. Beyond closed eyes, he sees the world again a drift of bodies; an elegy to…

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The Journey of Man by Ola W Halim


  in the morning, man is a cocoyam shoot, life is served in dews and golden horizons; mists would wear hues which would get darker, drier, as midday draws in, suckles sunflowers to wilt, renders the field rust, a tawny tabletop rattling under soles   several bouts of reality sprout at midday, when harmattan winds wind nature into a hovering…

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The Days of Yell-low by Abiodun Salako


  Monday claws out of me like a rabbit With nut belly and hopping suffixes: These vanishing tiny goblins with the Skin of urine, weaken, curse, weaken Vein by vein erupting and shrieking Tuesday is frozen yoghurt like Lila’s Fibroid scooped with a spoon of cartilage, A full moon for howling, for begging my bones Leave me or soften like…

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A Creationist’s Story by Njoku Nonso Emmanuel


  [Notes of first draft] Too many shapes, too many faces, On this mirror of errors. We are made of waters. Angels lost their wings & became light. A body takes the shape Of whatever he sings. The boy is an unknown creature. Everything tastes like wine.       [Notes of second draft] I. My father hates blood as…

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Two Poems by Elisabeth Horan


Pain is Just Another Word All this pain is icicle-white and drips in my eyes when I stare at the sun; I’m checking to see if God came back, yet somehow I already know – He didn’t. Pain is another word for a drain. Like when I watch the grey water swirl – A mini-eddy of suds and razor stubble…

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88 by Amagwula Nnenna Comfort


The number of skeletons hidden in my cupboard. 88 Half the number of femurs that pressed my body down against its will. 88 Two too little, they should have waited till I was 18. 88 Three for daddy and one for Joshua. They both said they loved me. 88 Two by two, hands push open the doors of the cupboards…

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