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Itanile LitMag

Ennui

Ennui

When merry morn did grace my soul's abode, I held within the sun's embrace the bliss, Of naked beams, of grace, of hope bestowed, In beauty's palm, all wrapped in tender kiss. At dawn's sweet call, I rose to greet the day, Like dew upon the humble weed's green blade,...

How to Mend a Broken Mirror

How to Mend a Broken Mirror

Do you know how to mend a broken mirror? It is very delicate work. Time-consuming, attention-demanding. You must be prepared for the little pieces that bruise your fingers, for the waves of doubt that urge you to let them go. You must be prepared for the voices in...

February 18th 2010

February 18th 2010

The smile on my brother’s face ran away with his hope & he is searching through the rising sun, wishing to catch them from the scattered rays. Since the day the insurgency started, he became a walking corpse- digging for a sanctuary. I stripped my ears naked to...

A Rehearsal of Shame

A Rehearsal of Shame

The people in your city are inflated by a need to slash and burn, and you are already a dress unraveling at the seams. The wind will take you like a jester starring in a staged farce, toss you hither, thither, smash you against stolid-faced walls and wrinkled roofs,...

Why Itanile Has Been Quiet

Why Itanile Has Been Quiet

Hi. My name is Damilola Jonathan Oladeji, and I think it's appropriate to let you know who's speaking as you read this release about Itanile. A few years ago, I had a vision that African literature and writing should be promoted using all the tools that the internet...

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Itanile LitMag

Showing 1–8 of 92 results

  • 4,000.00

    A wealthy couple crazy in love seems to be leading the perfect life, but nothing is ever perfect, nothing.

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  • 500.00

    The woman beside her was chubby and rounded and the wrappa around her waist was hostile to the brown blouse she wore. Her head-tie was faded beige and had fallen off to the ground. Her head was shaking vehemently in rebuke and her body in total rebuff of surrender. The woman kept on bustling in roars; Obara Jesus! Obara Jesus! with her hands striding in very ridiculous rhythm.

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  • 0.00

    When we invited writers for this Issue, submissions of any theme or genre were welcomed, but especially so for works that explore the concept of journeys through the lenses of travels and tours―what it means to travel, to seek out new places. To write a story or a poem or an essay, writes Garth Greenwell, is to make a claim about what we find beautiful, about what moves us, to reveal a vision of the world, which the writers in this Issue have done with their work.

    (Downloads - 155)

  • I’m pleased to say that it felt like home journeying to the birth of this book. Of course home is where the “art” is. This chapbook contains 20 poems scribed from the very core of my heart.

    “Dancing With The Tides” sends a message or talks about the need to being in equilibrium with the happenings in the world and not to be too attached to one specifically.

    (Downloads - 77)

  • 1,000.00

    Abebi

    Cries of a baby
    Tears of Iya Abebi
    Evil some people call life
    Isn’t it darkness that brought her to life?

    At birth she takes a sweet full
    Colostrum it is called
    Nigeria, I call Abebi
    Iya, I call her forefathers

    Abebi did not grow like others
    When a father drinks the milk,
    of the child
    Doesn’t the child’s belly get bigger?

    Abebi did not take in
    Enough milk while growing,
    even though, filled with milk and honey
    Abebi is now weaned on garri

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  • 1,500.00
    1 item sold

    In seven chapters, the narrator in this expository comic tell stories, story after story of the trending and laughable events on TwitterNg. While it appears to be ‘just for the laughs’, the narrator also exposes readers to deep memories of grief and loss experienced in the street.

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