POET’S MOTHER by Adamu Usman Garko

POET’S MOTHER by Adamu Usman Garko

by | Feb 11, 2019 | POEMS

POET’S MOTHER

by Adam Usman Garko

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? 

POET'S MOTHER

by Adamu Usman Garko | POEMS

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.
THE MELODY IN HER PAIN OPENED ME by Patron Henekou

THE MELODY IN HER PAIN OPENED ME by Patron Henekou

by | Feb 4, 2019 | POEMS

THE MELODY IN HER PAIN OPENED ME

by Patron Henekou

I was there in front of her
Listening as she spoke.
The words came out free,
Unobstructed
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
Hope
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
Opened me.

THE MELODY IN HER PAIN OPENED ME

by Patron Henekou | POEMS

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.
MY MOTHER’S DAUGHTER SPELLS HER NAME BACKWARD by Anthony Okpunor

MY MOTHER’S DAUGHTER SPELLS HER NAME BACKWARD by Anthony Okpunor

by | Jan 20, 2019 | POEMS

MY MOTHER’S DAUGHTER SPELLS HER NAME BACKWARD

by Anthony Okpunor

what is that in your mouth
your mock your father’s silence before it becomes
                                                            girls who do not spell the alphabets in your name correctly
                                   you say it’s bitter drinking from an ocean
but
                                                                                  you love the color of bitterness
what part of you isn’t crazy
madness is love sometimes
                                the truth is you once cared for your father
talk about your science teacher
               did he not say the earth revolves with you in it
it is vain to accept love without accepting sadness first
your name is different in every language
                                 no one knows what’s wrong with you
                                 your hand is a road map
                                 your dead lovers are road maps
                                 your bitten tongue is a road map
a road map is what is lost after naming a body of water
a road map is your skin beautiful with different boys calling it white
not-white       caucasian      olive-brown       jewish                         there are some words that fit into leaking tongues
  your skin is quick and brief—something bitten into black
boys yawn before biting at your flesh
biting into rocks with honey
it means you should cook before it’s late at night
                                                                             the world has it that bad dreams come with late
night foods
but your worries are different        aren’t they
in the morning you will notice that songs float in every bird’s tongue
so do not worry about what died on your face
what flew from your mother and burned your house down
your mother beats your younger brother’s mouth for cursing
   & those words always fall back into yours
you like the way your brother screams in pain
your mother is always blind from anger
again your worries are different
 
you know though
you dance your body into the depth of water and it stings your mother’s heart
you should teach young men who visit
                                    that a boat inside you do not sail with lovers

MY MOTHER'S DAUGHTER SPELLS HER NAME BACKWARD

by Anthony Okpunor | POEMS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Anthony Okpunor is a Nigerian writer who discovered poetry and writing in general, as a better form of self-expression from his early school days. He lives and writes from Asaba in Delta State. He is a student of the University of Benin at the time. He splits his time between writing, reading, lectures, good epic music, and himself. His works have appeared in several online platforms including African Writers and Praxis Magazine.

MAY THE LAND BE TRULY SECULAR by Kamarudeen Mustapha

MAY THE LAND BE TRULY SECULAR by Kamarudeen Mustapha

by | Dec 3, 2018 | POEMS

MAY THE LAND BE TRULY SECULAR

by Kamarudeen Mustapha

MAY THE LAND BE TRULY SECULAR (For Leah Sharibu)
We peel peace layer by layer
Till nothing remains of our sanity
We betray all orderliness at home
Till gloating terror ambushes our
bravest hopes
Then, we start again
We pile terror layer by layer
On pedestals of our bravest hopes
Until we hatch heartless wars
Shrouding us front and black
In our fray for self justification
We have disemboweled the deodorant air
We let loose the flatulent bowel
Of the Mongudu mammoth
Choking us with horrors hovering
All over our space

 

 

Only Leah Sharibu has some faith
In the land’s claim to be secular
 
She told the heart of terror
“I am a Christian and I deserve to live …”

 

 

O let her faith suffice her
And may the land be truly secular
Like the God of Peace bides
“No compulsion in religion.”

 

 

MAY THE LAND BE TRULY SECULAR

by Kamarudeen Mustapha | POEMS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 Kamarudeen Mustapha writes short stories and poems. He is a teacher based at Ibadan, Nigeria. His poems and short stories have been published in Our Poetry Archive, African writer.com and Setu inline magazine. He had also had poems published in few anthologies apart from self-publishing some children story books like Zinari the Golden Boy, Winners Never Quit and The Magic Bird among others.

MOURN FOR US by Oluwafemi Babasola

MOURN FOR US by Oluwafemi Babasola

by | Jun 20, 2018 | POEMS

MOURN FOR US

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
hearts
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

MOURN FOR US

by Oluwafemi Babasola | POEMS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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.