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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 - 158)
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.
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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
The weather outside was hot and dry with the humidity sucked out of the atmosphere to the very last drop of moisture, very much like the insides of Mallam Musa’s mouth. He could not believe it had come to this. How could this people do this evil thing to him? His own...
"Remember me, I'd keep watch over you." The line kept running through my mind, with mixed feelings of sadness and reassurance. It brought thoughts of death, a death that... Saved me. I was confused, wondering where I heard the line. Add to that my recurrent dream...
Addiction He comes home breathing in a new way Mother asks why he won’t settle down and calm his breath Where did he get the fire in his lungs? He says it’s the new black The way of life in these streets The streets introduce new drugs Racy highs called...
Bob Damian a.k.a the devil roamed the streets of lowertown, Coastal city, in search of whom to devour. He found his man in Judas Akachi, a balding sweaty middle aged taxi driver standing by a DVD shop, biting his nails and occasionally scratching his backside. The...
Eric Aurthur Blair also known as George Orwell and Aldous Huxley. The worlds where science in a controlled system thrives. Reading 1984 one would realize that the world of science suffered no ill. It was as much an accomplice in the process of dehumanizing humans. A...
Source: Granta In partnership with the Commonwealth Writers Pastor Justice always vexes me small-small, but I forgive him because he be man of God. For example, yesterday I went to church again after a very long time because Mama say God is the only way out. Well, to...
Today we say a huge happy birthday to Akinwande Oluwole Babatunde Soyinka, known as Wole Soyinka. A Nigerian playwright, poet and essayist. He was awarded the 1986 Nobel Prize in Literature, the first African to be honoured in that category. In a Trivia hosted on the...
Dibia Okamma sat in his shrine communing with the gods, his eyes fixed on the cowrie shells. Few moments ago he was ejaculating to the gods, praising them for their awesomeness, all they had wrought through him. But his sudden quiet demeanor meant they were...
Just yesterday you lay by my side, Just yesterday you were mine. The feelings I could not hide, And yet we did not thrive. You took me to paradise, You opened my eyes to a wonderful world of butterflies. There I grew wings, There I touched the skies. You taught me how...
Mother thinks I do not remember her anymore. She thinks I left her behind on leaving home for this city. There are things one cannot be taught, he learns himself Just like no one taught the Good Samaritan how to be good. There are two ends in my body. One end is home...
