by KREATIVE DIADEM | Nov 6, 2015 | POEMS
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU ABOUT WAR?
Is it the way men die, the way their wives
trace their corpses with candlelight? Is it how
bombs sound when they hit those boys?
Is it the way people fall whenever bullets
sail like water in their hearts, in their veins?
Is it how we are all going to die, how we do
not know if there is going to be another way,
how we do not know the faces covered with dust?
Is it the way it leaves us broken, shattered?
Is it the way we carry our beloveds’ pictures in
our pockets, the way we mourn them everyday,
remembering the time spent together, the time spent
tracing the circumference of a world that breaks,
that slips, that flees? Is it the way we sing an elegy
for infants caught in the fire, the way we remember
Nigeria, Iraq, Syria?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rasaq Malik is a graduate of the University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria. His poems have appeared in Connotation Press, Heart Online Journal, Jalada, Saraba, Sentinel, African Writers, New Black Magazine, Kalahari Review, and elsewhere. He believes writing is an act of healing, an art that transcends the world, that survives every death.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Oct 22, 2015 | POEMS
AWERO’S POUNDED YAM
Have you eaten Awero’s pounded yam?
it is a scrumptious finger-licking action,
as each morsel dances around in plates
of egusi soup and calms the restleness
of watering lustful mouths.
Pounded Yam
When you hear the mortar and pestle
murderously conspiring to crush the yam’s bones
in her small smokey kitchen,
be sure to set your appetitie on fire
before the neighbours come around.
Her hut is home
to every hungry belly,
it unites the village
in webs of aromatic kinship,
Awero’s pounded yam
cures all sorts of sicknesses,
they say it is medicinal.
She has never tasted her own food,
they say she prefers
the company of starvation ,
they say she is strange,
probably demented.
Awero’s tale is the tale of our land,
a land where our drunk dumb chiefs
give out our pounded yam
to willing foreign food mongers
who empty our pot of soup
and fill it with sand in return.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kanyinsola Olorunnisola is a poet, essayist and short story writer. He is currently studying Philosophy at the University of Ibadan. His works have been featured in national newspapers and an international publication. An unrepentant idealist, he believes in the power of words to change the world.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Oct 8, 2015 | POEMS
Hungry little boy
If only you looked at my side
You’d see that I am burning inside
If only you considered my plight
You’d see that I’ve never known light
My life has been a fight
For survival and for life
All I’ve known is strife
Please let a brother live
I never chose my parents
I never chose my fate
My life is full of talents
No platforms to display
I sit here in the trash cans
Praying for quails and manna
Dreaming of my late mama
Recalling her last stammer
Hungry little boy
.jpeg)
To those with silver spoons
That glister like the moon
Won’t you spare a bite
Or help me reach my heights?
I thought I had a right to life
Conditions kill me everyday
At times like this
Death looks so good
For when I steal
You chase the thief
I run from hunger
I land in thirst
A child that’s starving
Can have no rest
My refuge, the garbage
My bed, the grass
My rants are senseless
My sense is ranting
To Christians and brethren
Christ died for me
To muslims and faithfuls
I pray so often
To the famous and great
Your pride is vague
For the truly great man
Is stirred by compassion
Of all the laws and customs
Rights and obligations
Of all constitutional chapters
Sections and subsections
A right to food
Is a right to life
A right to clothing
Is part of living
A right to shelter
Makes life worth living
I’m just a hungry little boy
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chuks Obi is a law student at the University of Ibadan. He writes poems that bring to light various issues affecting Africa with the aim of drawing public attention to them, thus, making the world a better place.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Oct 1, 2015 | NIGERIAN POEMS, POEMS
WHERE IS NIGERIA?
The giant of the black continent,
locked up in the den of dwarfs,
looking haggard with overgrown hair,
she must be very old,
for her head is a fountain of grey leaves,
and these wrinkles come only with old age,
The king of the jungle
with a roar that begins the songs of mockery,
these claws are sharp,
they must have torn apart
the skins of preys during war
and this bushy mane is not for a cub,
Happy Independence Day to Nigeria!
Source: www.shuttershock.com
The Super Eagle of the skies
with wings clipped like an emu
and can barely fly
when expected to soar,
the span of these wings are wide
and these sunken eyes is only for a Mother Eagle
The land of milk and honey
where dairy owners starve to death
and landlords are milked by tenants,
until the lips of their pockets got glued
and could no longer swallow a drop of honey
produced by swarms of bees in their own hives.
There was a Nigeria,
known as a nation of enviable jewels
where all birds wanted to build their nests
and all beasts wanted to graze her pasture,
where peace and justice were citizens
and not sons lost in exile
dining with only those who live in foreign lands.
P.S.: This is for a sober reflection as the most populous black nation in the world, Nigeria celebrates 55 years of Independence.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a budding poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems. He is a great thinker, creative and dexterous young man who does not only believe in excellence but also extols the tenets of discipline, hard work and effectiveness.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Oct 1, 2015 | NIGERIAN POEMS, POEMS
TELL THEM TO REMEMBER THIS COUNTRY
& if at all the world wants to write about me
Tell them to remember this country: Its broken body.
The sketches of tears that litter everywhere.
& if at all the world craves to sing my name
Tell them to echo the names of boys covered
with leaves. Tell them to scribble the names of girls
raped till their thighs bled, till their cries
vanished in the wind of silence.
& if at all the world carves me a plaque
Remember to tell them about unbuilt monuments
for people devoured by earthquake, people left
with shattered hearts, people buried like
dead dogs, like the bits of a broken glass.
Happy Independence Day to Nigeria.
Source: www.oanweb.org
Remember to tell them about lives limping in
the fire that leaks the rusty roof of this country.
& if at all my song tickles your ears
Remember the woman next door,
the one clutching the photograph of her
bombed son. Remember the man waiting to
explore a dumpster for wastes.
Remember this country and its fate,
its history full of lengthy dirges.
& if at all tomorrow comes with laughter
breaking the tunnels of our throats
Remember the poet that
remembers this country.
P.S.: This is for a sober reflection as the most populous black nation in the world, Nigeria celebrates 55 years of Independence.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rasaq Malik is a graduate of the University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria. His poems have appeared in Connotation Press, Heart Online Journal, Jalada, Saraba, Sentinel, African Writers, New Black Magazine, Kalahari Review, and elsewhere. He believes writing is an act of healing, an art that transcends the world, that survives every death.
Recent Comments