Editorial Team

Blemishes – Igbokwe Roseline.

Blemishes How do you spell grief when you are rammed  in the neck by the butt of a shotgun loaded with  betrayals as bullets? All I could do was scrawl  pain into empty air and watch them splatter like  sheep blood, with each drop jetting out to unknown  distance. That was how I came to realise that you  can never see it all until pain befriends you. I now  know all it takes to walk round a garden of thistles   and shake off; unbruised. My father once pinned my  pet cock to the ground with a knife to its neck for Easter.   Now my body has morphed into feathers, beak and   claws — weakened and threatened. The pain that   accompanies betrayal stuck to my skin like a blemish,   ignoring every plea to wash away.  Contributor’s Bio Igbokwe Roseline is a Nigerian medical student in her penultimate year and a creativewriter who has works published in Kalahari Review, Brittle Paper, Eboquills, World Voices Magazine, Writers Space Africa, Arkore Arts, the Moveee, Icreative Review, The Moveee, Ta Adesa, Shuzia Anthology, SAP Anthology, Poetik City Africa, Stripes Lit, Arts Lounge, etc.  She was shortlisted for the Labari Prize For Poetry, BKPW prize, Shuzia prize; longlisted for the Wakaso Poetry Prize For Female, DKA Annual Poetry Prize; winner of the Poetree IWD Spoken Word Contest; winner of Hera Marketing, Gemspread, New Cheese Academy and Challenging The Writers writing contests. She’s on Instagram @igbokweroses and X @IgbokweEzinne 

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Looking through the Lens of Words into an Empty Morning Cloud: A Review of Tolu’ A. Akinyemi’s The Morning Cloud is Empty – Nket Godwin.

Looking through the Lens of Words into an Empty Morning Cloud: A Review of Tolu’ A. Akinyemi’s The Morning Cloud is Empty Tolu’ A. Akinyemi, who has published one poetry chapbook and fifteen collections of poems, among which are Dead Lions Don’t Roar, Dead Dogs Don’t Bark, Dead Cats Don’t Meow, A Booktiful Love, City of Lost Memories, Born in Lockdown, etc., has been consistent not only in his thematic leaning on

Looking through the Lens of Words into an Empty Morning Cloud: A Review of Tolu’ A. Akinyemi’s The Morning Cloud is Empty – Nket Godwin. Read More »

We Only Care About The Beautiful Things – Mubarak Said

We Only Care About The Beautiful Things the clock is moving backward, & the sun  is stealing the traces of our smiles.  everything bears the negative meaning   of its name—the smiles we pretend to   be missing, the embrace of the light, and   the dryness of the sky. we only care   about the things with flashy skins.   the wind kept swinging between two   end-points: water & hell. water is blind,   the hell has flares. father said, the thing next  to water is flame. the flame is blind too. yet,  we only care about the beautiful things.   there is a garden on our palms. water is red,   roses are red. everything looks strange from  within. roses are beautiful, and red water is horrible.   & we only care about the beautiful things.   we are servants of what refused to be ours.   we are boys, we are men, & sometimes   we identified as commodities on a market  stalls. the market, a dark room. the stalls,  a thorn bed, massaging the curtain between  our skins and bones. it is all monstrous.  but still, we only care about the beautiful things.  Contributor’s Bio Mubarak Said, TPC XII, SprinNG & SAF Alumni, is the winner of the 2023 Bill Ward Prize For Emerging Writers (Prose) and

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IF ALL THE SCARS IN MY HEART WERE LADIES, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN GROWN ENOUGH TO BE WEARING BRAS – Adamu Yahuza.

IF ALL THE SCARS IN MY HEART WERE LADIES, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN GROWN ENOUGH TO BE WEARING BRAS After Zainab Kuyizhi The walls of my heart has grown into a bonfire I wear these scars like old habits. once, a girl searched through my heart & ended up not finding flowery sinews or veins,

IF ALL THE SCARS IN MY HEART WERE LADIES, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN GROWN ENOUGH TO BE WEARING BRAS – Adamu Yahuza. Read More »

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