by KREATIVE DIADEM | Mar 4, 2019 | POEMS
LEARNING THE LANGUAGE OF ROSES
tonight you’ll pick roses / off your lover’s tongue / and you will ponder / and ask why it took so long / not for the roses you hold / nor for the many times / you’ve looked for warmth / in his mouth / but for the times / you’ve subtly planted a rose bed on his tongue / tonight also you’ll turn the shower on / you’ll mask your tears as he climaxes / then you’ll listen to the quiet of the night / and you’ll also learn that love / like tears comes from within / you’ll find roses on your tongue / you’ll mutter words to your lover tonight / and you’ll go / in search of the girl whom you once built this bed of roses with / also tonight / you’ll plant roses on her tongue / tonight you will build a rainbow with her / and you’ll say to her / that this love has come to stay / you’ll cry also / and the tears will leave traces on your tongue / to water the roses / you’ll never lack a reason / to grow a rose bed on my tongue / she will say tonight / you’ll bury your tongue in her home / and ask if you could grow a bed of rose there / and you’ll watch her speak the language of roses / and you’ll remember that love comes from within.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ugochukwu Damian Okpara is a poet and a medical student based in Nigeria. He began writing poetry in 2017 and his major theme explores depression, loneliness, and feminism. His goal is to inspire those who have been hurt, making them realise that the light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion. He was one of the 21 mentees in the second cohort of the SLM Mentorship programme. His poems have appeared in Woven Words, African writer and elsewhere. When he is not writing or reading, he spends time listening to songs by Simi, James Blunt or Ed Sheeran.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Feb 25, 2019 | POEMS
is a river that drowns
even at its bank
is a jungle where squirrels
become alpha lions
is a microphone that gives
a clear voice to the dumb
is an echo that penetrates
the walls in the deaf’s ears
is a wheel, standby for all
that can, that cannot drive
is a road that shifts
size, shape, surface, stretch
is a game: rules definitively undefined
players uncensored, unlimited
is a perigee, an apogee
to good, bad governance
is dirty, clean
because it is you and I.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Author of a book of poems, Twisted Tongues, Taofeek Olalekan Ogunperi was born and brought up in Ikirun, Osun State, Nigeria. His poems have appeared in print and online media such as Muse for World Peace, Armistice, WriCon Quarterly Journal, Atelewo Pelebe, I am Not a Silent Poet, The Talented and elsewhere. He is a member of the Ultimate Club of Ikirun – an assemblage of youths promoting education in Ikirun and its environment; a member of Muse for Peace Foundation – a group of youths committed to community development and propagating peace. He blogs at namelessexpress.wordpress.com.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Feb 18, 2019 | POEMS
HOW TO SPELL THE WORD ‘WOMAN’
A black boy next door asks me to name
Whom I call the only woman in my life. I run to
My father and he sits me next to the kitchen.
He says, Everyday, He would sit his self on this spot
And call his woman his god. I do not know
Why he chooses to name my mother this name,
so I sit and watch him stay still
And slowly unfold her from his mind. And body.
And in another place not in our rooms.
What my brother calls mother is a bible. He opens her
Every morning and reads
From her genesis down to revelation. He says
Mother holds memories that starts from father’s ribs.
And a greater one in a place not in our chest.
A boy does not know what it means to call
his mother a woman. He points to our house and
We place his mother in our home. I do not
Know how it feels to hold home as a woman. Heavy and
Whole. Like those things that always stays wet and weighty.
There is a way we write about Home. Let’s say;
It is when you fetch four mothers from four different kitchens.
And hold them in your home
And allow us paint them from
your memories into these words.
& what we spell their skins is
What takes after your color black.
Like that of charcoals which you’d hold whole in your closed palms.
And sometimes broken when you open it. And sometimes something formed again.
And unformed again into something you do not know.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I’m Chukwu Emmanuel C. A Nigerian writer and poet who loves to use his muse to delve into himself and explore what it takes to be human. His works have been featured in Praxis magazine, Ngigareviews, and numerous blogs.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Feb 11, 2019 | POEMS
The night sauntered in—
A black-haired angel moulded
Amid fire a messenger sent
eye’s prey her muse bleeds
A voice echoes the length of abyss—
And desperation could be any angel
In this deep year of eating prayer
living in past & in present trauma
then dust would signify a body meant
to die before the sun goes so lonely
At night the lion so strong the death unholy
To hold the soul of a poet’s mother —
where are any of God’s hands?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Adamu Usman Garko is a student of Gombe high school, in Gombe state. He is a poet and story writer. His work has previously appeared at Blueprint newspaper, The Arts-muse Fair, poetry planet, Praxis magazine online. He was a finalist for the 2018 International Cultural Exchange for Wole Soyinka, (WSICE). And he was the Artist of the Month “September” 2018, of Yasmin El-Rufai Foundation.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Feb 4, 2019 | POEMS
THE MELODY IN HER PAIN OPENED ME
I was there in front of her
Listening as she spoke.
The words came out free,
But not smooth:
There was a faint tremolo in there
To spring the prairie in her
Smile. I sat there to
Catch the words but
Only the melody in them opened
Me and whiffed through the skin
Of my blood, like the stalks of a genocide.
Face to face first, then face to profile
her words came
With the same gloss
Like a work of art seated on a
Tanned street in the middle of
Gunshots and laughter and tears
Mixed with passionate kisses of lovers
parted in dreams of dictators.
I could see her heart run walk-walk
Then walk run-run beneath her breasts
Recounting past memories and family pains
While reaching for a word to draw her
In a sky of white clouds and
A moon laced with names of foreign lands in graffiti.
– In her office, her lips could not say my name so
She wrapped it in the pages of a hibiscus
And placed it in a poetry book inside her eyes. Run
Her left palm on the cover as if to
Take the flame in my name.
I stood and she stood with me
Now she passed through me and
Said, her eyes almost closed: how is your son, Sitou? –
I was sitting there beside her, in the restaurant
Her words stood out free,
Coated in a faint tremolo to
Spice the sun in her face. The melody in them
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patron Henekou writes poems and plays and co-organizes the Festival International des Lettres et des Arts (Festilarts) at Université de Lomé, Togo. He writes in French and English as well and translates. His poems have appeared in anthologies such as Palmes pour le Togo, Arbolarium, Antologia Poetica de Los Cinco Continentes, and The Best New African Poets Anthology 2017, and in poetry journals such as AFROpoésie, Revue des Citoyens des Lettres, Aquifer: The Florida Review Online, The Kalahari Review, and Better than Starbucks. His published books include a play in English, Dovlo, or A Worthless Sweat (2015) and two poetry books in French entitled Souffles d’outre-cœur (2017) and Souffles & faces (2018). Patron is the 2018 African American Fellow (now Langston Hughes Fellow) at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival in Delray, Florida.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Jan 29, 2019 | POEMS
They say the stars
rise at the East,
whilst the sun sets
at the West
Oh I was a star
born in the North,
and an untamed breed
that appeared in the solstice
Mama used to say
“put my words
in your left hand,
and pocket it
everywhere you go,
not in your right hand
where you shall use it to eat
and discard it”
O’ I wish
I heeded her words…….
how time flies,
now I lay in regret
Peter You should never
have fallen prey,
for in your prime,
you were killed
by these bloodsucking demons
O’ how man can
wrought the worst evils
all for money
these are indeed hard times,
Rest in Peace Brother……….
In my imperfections,
do not crucify my mistakes,
for there is only one judge
who is above
I was only born
This life is a jungle,
only the fittest can survive,
All man for himself
is the rule in this game
you had to be smart
to eat fat
the street taught me this……….
Though I am a Phlegmatic,
do not misjudge my silence
for I am running this race to obtain the crown…….
Every new day,
I have no idea
of what lie ahead
but I keep on striving
in the midst of these tempest,
I am on destiny’s lane,
If I had heeded your words,
these story would never
have been told,
I am dancing with destiny,
this is heaven’s predestination…….
O’ Father and Mother!!!!!!!
I am a Poet
not a Diplomat,
preaching through my pen and paper,
I am a keeper of words
that will speak forever
I am an Old soldier,
an immortal whose words
will never die
Writing is my addiction
these are raw truths
spewing from my diction
Read these lines to the end,
the greatest verse in history
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Adejumo is a gifted and talented poet, writer, essayist and man of words, He started writing since when he was very young as a hobby, but he took it to the next level in 2018 when he started his poetic journey. He has three collections of works, REDEMPTION, which is published on Amazon and Kindle store, LO/UST RACE and BEACON OF HOPE, which are both unpublished manuscripts.
He was born and bred in Kaduna State, Northern Nigeria to God-fearing parents and a father who loved reading books. He picked that interest in writing and reading from him. He enrolled in Bowen University with a degree in History and International Studies, he hopes to touch lives, inspire many and preach through his pen and paper.