by KREATIVE DIADEM | Apr 7, 2016 | POEMS
STILLBIRTH: THE CURSE OF A MOTHER
I was pregnant,
Every movement I felt was a wonder
With my growing stomach, my eagerness grew
Then I began to hear tales
Tales of the horrors of birth
Tales of reaching the great beyond
Tales of excruciating pain
Then my anxiety grew.
The big day came and my fear blossomed,
Became a pill too big to swallow
“Open your legs”
“Give way to your child”
I felt her try to push her way through
Yet I held on, I didn’t want a part of the pain
It became a struggle between us
And she won
Source: www.abelabel.com
The decision was taken out of my hands
And the journey began
Tears flowed like a car on the express
The moments of rest were welcomed with such relief
I began to search for the silver lining
I looked forward holding a baby in my hands
And I faced my pains with the knowledge of the joy ahead.
It soon became over
And I stretched my hands to welcome a baby
Alas!
It was a stillbirth
The tears stopped flowing
And I looked on helplessly as my world crashed
Love found me
It taught me to face my fears
And just when I was ready to take on the world,
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Oluseyi Awojulugbe is a lady who believes that there is always another side to a story. She is a hopeful romantic who still believes despite the odds.For her, the best things in the world are God’s love, the view of the world that only words provide and being in a lover’s arms.
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 | Sep 23, 2015 | POEMS
WHAT MY MOTHER KNOWS
The texture of darkness.
The scent of my father whenever
he leaves home at dawn with anger
rioting in his stomach.
The shape of hunger. Our bellies on days
when my father deserts us like a haunted house.
African mother. Source: www.babymamahood.com
Our eyes full of hollows on nights when our palms
quiver as we gather around my mother, watching her
mumble voiceless aches.
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 | Aug 29, 2015 | POEMS
DRUMS, DRUMS…
Drums, drums,
Play drums not violins,
Play drums not keys,
They asked me to play drums…
And I started playing drums
Though I grew up amid violins and keys,
Though I used to dance around cement trees…
Drums, drums,
Play drums they shouted
If you want our ears to listen,
And our very eyes to see,
And our fat hands to give…
And I started playing drums
Though I grew up with pride and will…
Drums, drums… I played
From dawn to dusk and from dusk to dawn,
Drums… I played like I never thought
The soft and silky hands of mine would ever do,
Drums, drums… I played
So that the future from its coming centuries
Could remember the cradle of the spring
Climbing the mountain restlessly…
Drums, drums… I played
Until my hands became strong enough
To fight elephants and hippos…
Drums… I played
Until I forgot the sweetness of violins…
Drums… I played
Until I lost my keys…
The African drummer and his drum!
Drums… I played,
Oh Lord! Drums… I played
Not so passionately that I could close my eyes,
But so blindly that I would shut my eyes!
And shut my ears!
Drums… I played,
And drums shut my whole life!
Drums, drums,
Play drums not violins,
Play drums not keys,
They asked me to play drums,
And I started playing drums…
But they weren’t listening,
They weren’t looking at me,
They weren’t even there!
I realized when I opened wide my eyes
That I was all alone,
Half naked in the midst of the bush!
Drums, drums… I played
So much that my water ran dry,
And the winds and the times
Had drawn deep lines in my face…
There I was rooted in the past,
While they were relishing a stainless future!
Drums… I played,
Yes I played like a fool!
While they were giving their own sons
Violins and keys of the purest air…
Here I am… seeking the way to their songs
As the bush is covering and drowning me
Like a mere drop in the hidden river of a forsaken place…
Drums, drums… I played
For they said so.
RAY NDEBI
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My name is Théodore René Ndebi, born in Cameroon. I graduated in Banking Management. But what really makes me proud and happy is WRITING !!!!! I started writing around 1990. I write the most I can.
I mostly write for children’s future. As a child, I had always dreamt of a world where poor children and orphans could be happy as well. I have many unpublished collections in French: Chaque Jour Un Poème, Rêve D’un Soir, La Missive Du Petit Prince, Suis-Je Assez Bien Pour Toi… I’m also author of unpublished novels in French (Cierge Noir, Plus Violent Que L’amour, Les Fruits De La Tempête…). My first published novel; THE LAST GHOST/Son Of Struggle got published in 2013 by AuthorhouseUK; it appears in the LOS Angeles Times Festival Of Books Catalogue 2014 Page 8. Available online @ Amazon, Kindle, AuthorhouseUK, Barnes & Noble, Indie. I wrote numerous award winning texts. I am a Book Reviewer and Translator. I am a member of OneAfricanChild since 2013 and Co-Founder of Le Salon Du Livre Yaounde-Cameroon. You can check my works on: authorrayndebi.wordpress.com.Ray Ndebi on Facebook, @RTNdebi on Twitter, Facebook Page My Soul & Mon Ame.
Recent Comments