These portraits slowly smudge the smiles that lit the streetswhere our fathers loved, lived and thrived. Violence is fueled on sensible and senseless plainsIn the name of brazen gods and a common God called peaceGuns blaze while cutlasses fly in the air cutting down destiniesHerdsmen hide under false pretences to raise fights as farmers riseDying … Continue reading ON THE BRINK (A Poem) by S. Su’eddie Vershima Agema
(after a post of the same title by the incredible, Adebola Rayo – for her) I barely write verse any more so I guess my creative voice is sore.I thought of what to write, what words would be right…What would I want you to read? Would these be the words you need? I whispered to … Continue reading STAY THE COURSE (Verse) by Su’eddie V. Agema
I found this poem somewhere on my system from many years ago. I think it was a test from one of our English lessons, maybe Introduction to Creative Writing II or Poetry or something. I do remember the course lecturer though, (now Professor) Moses Tsenongu, himself a poet that we looked up to, a past Chairman of the Association of Nigerian Authors (Benue State Chapter), a position I would eventually come to occupy years later.
It was one of my first less playful poems. The assignment was to write a Valentine poem. Some of my friends asked me how I would conjure one up, since I was not in any relationship. They had healthy laughs at me. Well, I smiled and put on my imaginative hat.
Hello world, I have been absent from here for a bit and my health has been a part of the reasons but there are some conversations that need to keep on being had. So, let’s get to one of them…
It is no news that the SEVHAGE chapbook series is coming back in full, or is it? Okay, maybe. But I am sure it is no news that Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto won our SEVHAGE/Angya Poetry Prize 2019 (supported by Eunice Spring of Life Foundation). I guess the news is that we are releasing the winning poem, ‘Every Month a Year’ alongside other poems from his entry and others into a chapbook, ‘The teenager who became my mother.’
Words came in a whisper Echoed in thunder: Do not let the dust force your feet too many steps forward Many are the souls who sleep to wake Across borders where the lines of existence are blurred I was somewhere and it seemed I died Then I woke to the sight of a ceremony Where … Continue reading Do Not Let the Dust Force your Feet too Many Steps (A Poem) by Su’eddie Vershima Agema
The fires that could not consume us
Made our bones metals
This is how boys are forged into men
The world is for tungsten hearts
Men who dare their beast in the face
And carry their mountains in baskets
The world is for those who dance
In gatherings of hurricanes
And still survive its suffocation.
O the Just Judge, master of these semiconducting troglodytes,
O the master of cockroaches and rats, the maker of penises that’d
Only sleep in a cold, unripened hearth of immature girls
O the sculptor of death whose buttocks are blacker than the Haramist flag,
master of my mother’s gasp, the dexterous planner of her fragile eyes
The question of writer’s block is one that most writers face, discuss and just make a million excuses of. Several people have given their reasons for why it is there, explaining in scientific and ordinary terms but on January 16th, 2019 at Nick Makoha’s workshop in Oxford – which I attended – we got another view to it.
Adamu, write me not of the
chameleonic nature of Lagos
nor of its seeming a spiderweb
Continue reading “BORNO (A Poem) by Mujahyd Ameen Lilo”
We are skeletons trapped in a pot of time Life is the fire boiling us The seasons picking our flesh Vultures take forks, smiling Waiting as they hover We are skeletons waiting We soon lose our flesh and become our true selves. Continue reading SKELETONS (A Poem) by S. V. Agema