THIS THING CALLED DEATH by Blessing Anaso

THIS THING CALLED DEATH by Blessing Anaso

dried leaves on a concrete pavement

THIS THING CALLED DEATH

by Blessing Anaso

I was twelve when I first saw it,

Cells fat and pink, the colour of cancer,

I saw its fingers in Ma’s falling hair and in her brave smile.

Like the sharp scent of disinfectant—angry and relentless.

 

I smelled death on Pa’s clothes,

In his anti-depression pills and on his thinning hair.

Later, I smelled it in Pa’s study, hanging from the ceiling,

Fists clenched in rigor mortis—blind and bloated.

 

I heard it in Bebe’s blood pressure,

In the rheumatic pop of her aged knees,

I heard it in the tired sigh of a year too many,

It came in her sleep—ripe but sudden.

 

This thing called death, I feel it now,

In my husband’s tight grip and midnight sobs,

I see it in my left breast and in my daughter’s uncertain eyes,

I smell it in the rustle of hospital sheets,

And taste it in my bloody vomit.

 

Small but enough

Like the soft hiss at the end of a kiss.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Blessing Anaso is a student and creative writer living in Nigeria, occasionally known to dabble in dark poetry.

Her work ‘Halima’ was selected for the AU_CIEFFA’s girl-child education campaign, published on their website.

Her poem ‘The Demons You Name’ also placed fourth place in the Kito Diaries ‘#QueerLivesMatter’ competition.

She writes short stories in her spare time.

TERROR TALES AND BLOODBATH by Israel Olaniyan

TERROR TALES AND BLOODBATH by Israel Olaniyan

TERROR TALES AND THE BLOOD BATH

by Israel-Triumph Olaniyan

PRESCRIPT

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.

POSTSCRIPT

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…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 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.

MORTAL BODY

MORTAL BODY

MORTAL BODY

Dead, they died
And then, we cried
Morrow we wake
But we see their fake

Mouth have I sealed
lord have I seen
Morrow I wake
But I see their fake

The one I know smiles
No talking, nor grinning, there in the tomb his body lies
But then to be save
We made for the grave

Grave - the home of the dead

Grave – the home of the dead

Hear it to your inside
Live it O ye mastermind
A soul is it that  you give
To the grave we put and we leave

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I  was born on 19th Feb. 1996. I hail from Ikire the land of Dodo, Osun state. I attended Holy Cross Catholic Primary School, Ikire. Having graduated, I was admitted to  Saint Augustine’s Commercial Grammar School where I was elected as the Social prefect boy of my set. I was then one of the competitors group, a group said to be the community of the intellectuals. Having succeeded in the secondary school, I opted to study Medicine in the great citadel of knowledge; The Lagos State University, Ojo which was successful but to a different course, Physics.

 

I THINK ABOUT LIFE

I THINK ABOUT LIFE

I THINK ABOUT LIFE

I think about life
The peace and the strife
This miserable life
Depressing like a nagging wife

A deadly game
Not for the lame
Unconditional fame
The only aim

The rule is organised crime
Perpetrated time to time
Violence in its prime
Existence sour like lime

Day after day
The clock ticks away
We move closer to a day
After which no other day

Thinking about life. Source: internet images.

Thinking about life. Source: internet images.

When death comes calling
The soul hearkens running
Life’s candle stops burning
To the Lord the soul is returning

At the time of death
Time for the last breathe
So useless is wealth
So unhelpful is health

On the last day
The soul ready to fly away
Close ones hoping it would stay
But the body must return to the clay

O negligent one
Think of all you’ve done
One day you’ll be gone
Like the bullet from a gun.

© 2015 by DURODOLA Folarin

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Durodola Folarin Quadri. Born on the first of January 1991. I attended the university of Ibadan as a student of Agricultural and Environmental Engineering. Editor-in-Chief of the departmental press organisation. I like books and one of the best I ever read was Living, Loving and Learning by Professor Felice Leonardo Buscaglia. I enjoy sports and computer games. Poetry gives me succour when I write about how I feel. Most times I write based on real situations because they inspire me more than imagination. I’m quiet and sometimes I’m being labelled as shy, while some simply say I’m an introvert.

DUST FOR DUST

DUST FOR DUST

DUST FOR DUST

Oh Earth!

Thou home of divers being

White and black have you beget

Death dethroned through Cain

Dust!

Dust!

Home for all, Home you’re

The Creator had made you like that

Near the way, home was far

Cain slayed him, slayed with wrath

 

 

Thus, we wake a carcass on morrow

Crying for the dead with hearts so narrow

Home call, we sing at their funeral

The days in thee are ephemeral

 

 

Home you’re, home for none

Dust return, home for the born.

OLABISI SEYI-OMOTOSHO

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I  was born on 19th Feb. 1996. I hail from Ikire the land of Dodo, Osun state. I attended Holy Cross Catholic Primary School, Ikire. Having graduated, I was admitted to  Saint Augustine’s Commercial Grammar School where I was elected as the Social prefect boy of my set. I was then one of the competitors group, a group said to be the community of the intellectuals. Having succeeded in the secondary school, I opted to study Medicine in the great citadel of knowledge; The Lagos State University, Ojo which was successful but to a different course, Physics.

Pin It on Pinterest