KOOWE’S CRY by Seyi Omotoso

KOOWE’S CRY by Seyi Omotoso


by Seyi Omotoso

Hear the sonorous voice as it re-echoes in the distance
The deadly release that murders our hearts
Hear it again and again – Koowe – the horrified bird that sings and you die
Hear the ancient spirit that talks in tears
Before you’d say I did not tell you
Turn the left if your right ear has been eating from them
Long you suffer, here comes freedom
For I fear your itchy hands that prostrates to anything that buys bread
And your cracked throat that thirsts for their wine – in the eve of the election – rushing their indomie of lies again – drinking back your curses all years – killing yourself!
Koowe is here again – O – with a cry
She’s crying and crying and she would not stop
Shouting and shouting and she would not cease
Singing and singing and she would not stutter


Hear on a mission, you obey or you die
For I fear your heart that lives in Israel but marries the Philistines
Your mouth that jugs while ours stood, filled with all that’s bitter,
with holes by its sides, like the hollow of a calabash
You’re wicked!
If you read these lines and plead for their money
Wicked, if you turn deaf ears
Wicked, if you rush our souls with their indomies
Koowe is crying and she would not stop



Seyi Omotoso is a seasoned poet and writer. 
Though he currently studies Physics in the Lagos State University, yet, his love for poetry knows no bound. 
Over the years, his works have appeared in some notable online platforms like 
Kreative Diadem, OYA Magazine, Acceleratetv among others. He’s currently working on his first novel.

IM-PRESSED by Oredola Ibrahim

IM-PRESSED by Oredola Ibrahim


by Oredola Ibrahim
Faceless arrogant burdens
glean your back to a bed of thorns.
… as you roll from side to side, Negotiating with pangs feeding on your empty heart—

You run a million probabilities of where you could have been,

except this haunting perilous room—

your last and only haven.


The internet is a graveyard—


With extravagant tombstones

lighting your path…

The reactions of these waves are horrific—
even for the best surfers.
Entombed thumbs cover their griefs with
masks of mealy wreaths.
Priest—wake up!
Before your followers RIP
your timeline with their blank


Oredola Ibrahim writes from Asaba in Delta State. His works have appeared on Praxis Magazine Online, VoicesNet, Kalahari Review, Poetryzoo, Kreative Diadem and elsewhere. He co-edited a Yoruba literary collection titled Àtẹ́lẹwọ́ Pélébé (www.atelewo.org) in 2018 and he has equally contributed to many other literary collections within and outside Nigeria. He holds a law degree from the University of Ibadan. He can be reached on ibrahimoredola@gmail.com.




by Israel-Triumph Olaniyan


Rabbi was a young girl of five, and she watched men with knives drawn cut down her Father and mother like meat on the butcher’s slab. Sinzu was on his way home to tell his parents about his new job with Microsoft Technologies when he ran into a band of murderous crusaders. With a clean sweep of his dagger, one of them separated Sinzu’s limbs from his body, while laughing out loud…
These are a few of the ordeals of the many dying in Jos, Benue and the rest of the North-Eastern part of Nigeria.
The sight was gory, stark and insanely cold
Strewn all around were pieces of flesh and bone untold
Blood like raindrops in a jarring thunderstorm
Blast up and beyond into a non-existent form
The gruesome remains of something, hitherto someone
How it seems life has abruptly lost all significance
Inhuman mortals, sociopaths lost in a trance
Calculated insanity and destructive rage
A brazen decimation, a rapacious soul ravage
A surge of terror at ground zero
Pillaged houses and broken homes
Burnt country side and earth devoid of loam
Killers with no conscience, martyrs for a vain cause
Devil incarnates on a killing spree with no pause
Amputated limbs, a compulsory price survivors pay
Are we at war, many seem to ask in pain
Innocent lives lost forever to no gain
When will the reign of terror end?
When shall we grieve and to our wounds tend
If our foe’s ire is unremitting, and our dead innumerable
Shall the impeccant suffer for another’s grudge?
Or the unlucky traveller partakes of a dish he must purge.
Who then shall come to the rescue?
If the helmsman can’t, who will in lieu-?
Save our lives, b’cos death is on a dance rampage
Our brave ‘men’ are on the frontline
The lily-livered in the government at the baseline
Our young have become hostages to treasure
The old of their death so cocksure
And we, though long dead in our hearts live each day
Shall we look up to the Creator?
Or shall our liberty remain with the captor?
Should we stand by helpless and vie?
Watching and waiting our turns to die
Or we cry till the tears are gone from our eyes?
Never! No! Not yet! It is not over I say!
There is not much hope, not even to keep terror at bay
But! We will sit and watch no more
We all must stand to fight even with our sores
This we will do till death’s cold hands withdraw
This we won’t stop till the rage of terror cease.


In tribute to the many dead, countless bleeding and others suffering the crime of being born in the Nigerian middle-belt and the Northeast. We are in solidarity with you, we are praying for you!
An outcry to reveal the hopeless helplessness of a people being subjected to such horrific ordeals without anything being done about it. Its as though their lives are not worth more than cows.
The debate largely and strangely has been on how to appease the killers, while the death toll has continued to rise. We say a brazen NO to this…


 I am Israel-Triumph Olaniyan. I hail from Ondo State and I am a lawyer who currently resides in Awka, Anambra State, Nigeria. I am a writer, a Poet and a song writer. I am a trained Development Knowledge Facilitator with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) Community Development Service of the NYSC. I am currently undergoing the one year compulsory National Youth Service at The Office of the Attorney General, Ministry of Justice, Awka. I enjoy reading, playing the guitar, singing and eating. I am a staunch believer in Jesus and a stickler for sound moral values and ethics.

MOURN FOR US by Oluwafemi Babasola

MOURN FOR US by Oluwafemi Babasola


by Oluwafemi Babasola

we who are left
breathing ghosts
trapped in traversing bodies
whose crushed spirits
seek repose
beneath the shadows
of funeral wreaths
who will rekindle
banters baked in the
smile of a child sucking
a mother’s breath
shared with brothers
in humus
and not strip bare
the steam in our
we hover over
funeral wreaths and
sense the remorseful whimper
of brothers behind its shadows
who count the obscure
blessings of peace and the
bleeding gifts of strife


Oluwafemi Babasola employs poetry and his short stories to express his thoughts and beliefs about life, the inequality in the society and emotions of the heart.
Oluwafemi’s poems have appeared on Bravearts Africa, Praxis magonline, African Writer, Parousia and elsewhere.
He lives in Osogbo, Nigeria. You can follow him on twitter @babasola10on10.

ROSES BROKE MY FALL by Eze Kenechukwu

ROSES BROKE MY FALL by Eze Kenechukwu


by Eze Kenechukwu

They come to me after midnight – Flashbacks of you,
I greet them with tears.
These shards of glass – In our garden
Remind me of the thorns we bore.
We loved like fire – Scalded tongues
Purple teeth marks on skin.


You were dysfunctional – I misunderstood
But we found solace in society’s disapproval.
The day I fell – you were supposed to catch me
You were scribbling on your palm with that blade.
And so I fell – To our garden
But all the roses were dead, just thorns.


I am Eze Kenechukwu Michael, a 2nd year Law student at the University of Nigeria (Enugu campus), I am a student writer with a flair for flash fiction and poetry. I am currently working on my collection of poems called “In the journal of an enigma.”

LOVING MYSELF by Daniel Ajayi

LOVING MYSELF by Daniel Ajayi


by Daniel Ajayi

Like the birds fleeing in desert

Like the slave in king’s palace

Like mama loving to stay in village

Like the rich men of Lagos

Like the syndrome of my mind sheered

I gave up the pain to sacrificially gain

the heart of loving oneself

crooked as there be hurdles of breakage

coming with stretches, even in beautiful time

I learned to seek my deep interest so I won’t go astray


During time of go

dug a well of hope for me to cope

got troubled in distress, wildlife of care elopes me

It could be depraved if it wasn’t on a verge moment

The military men of Israeli couldn’t do better here

Yes, I stick to risk, in loving myself


 Daniel Ajayi is a graduate from  Republic of Benin and delirious about writing. He has core interest in writing poems making him a writer and poet. He currently resides in Nigeria where he spends his free time in writing, reading, counselling and researching  His poems have been published on BraveartsAfrica,The Parousia Magazine, Indianperiodical, to mention but a few.

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