Weals from the Rain “What ear to our sobbing hearts?” -Birago Diop. We lost them– our brothers that darted outside to set the drums to the catchment & never returned. Yesterday night, we longed for rain on our roofs. & it rained–it rained cats and dogs. This morning, Our verandah was lost in the flood of […]
Weals from the Rain – Arikewusola Abdul Awal. Read More »
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,
Shapes of no more Victor Uwaifo said: you buy shirt shirt tears if God creates soul soul will go back to its owner the body that we use minimally would turn sands so i could not tell you to stay & if i break cascades down goodbye, goodbye handful of body-sands thrown to the teeth
Shapes of no more – Osagiede Best. Read More »
Anxiety is a way of life Filter Like a sieve, I am drained Of every dewdrop of happiness Through the mesh of my hollow body. And I– dust in the fireworks of light Escape the drizzling storms of darkness. I– billowed tusk of winterbourne Streaming down into a gorge Of landscaped realities Acculturate the mimesis
Anxiety is a way of life – Adesiyan Oluwapelumi. Read More »
Pashing a Roadmap of Gloom [5:20 am]: I woke up with all my woes written boldly in my heart, I woke up with all the silence of yesteryears reigning in my body. My rosary is a strangled neck aiming to carry its burden with ease. The night before, a girl tried to carry my third
Pashing a Roadmap of Gloom – Aderohunmu Abdulrokeeb. Read More »
No One Wants to Write an Elegy The disposition of the gravelike an openmouth.Cut is the stalkthat might have grown fullystraight. We trampledew-wet grasses finely latticed with day-oldspider webs. No onewants to write an elegy.The cruelty of sweet-smellingearth, the wet thump as it splashesoff the shovels. And already there is nothing left to see. As
No One Wants to Write an Elegy – Ridwan Badamasi. Read More »
19 LINES FROM FRAGMENTS OF MY LOVE She carries the gods in her palm, and her painting, on the brittle glass, some grey-ash primroses, hummingbirds and some rose flowers lurking in her toes too. I wrote her name on my palm—her home. I feel how enthralling it is to have someone I love on the
19 LINES FROM FRAGMENTS OF MY LOVE – Tajudeen Muadh Akanbi. Read More »
i redeem their emptiness with food i. God indoctrinated me a lesson in the afternoon: solve, b + h – w =? that is, boy + hunger… – water =? interpretation: a bridge; underneath, the sleeping boy unlearned the colour of his skin or hometown & slept winter’s blanket a faucet:
i redeem their emptiness with food – Ismail Yusuf Olumoh. Read More »
Lifestyle How wicked a space is to a body is notable in the way a bird puts a stop to its song of hope, while I am still drawing strength from its lyrics, while in the wood. I have been here on most days of my life, a place I share with lonely little things.
Lifestyle – Blessing Omeiza Ojo. Read More »
Riddles of a Lost Boy I am something— wandering is my native heirloom. my ancestors, shifting lands & shape-shifting tongues. all oduduwa’s milk & honey not sufficing to quench their thirst for new land. the result: a minor(ity) problem. a leaf has fallen
Riddles of a Lost Boy. – Asíwájú Babatimehin Read More »
