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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.
The poet takes us on a journey along the palm-fringed beaten earth roads of his childhood home in rural Sierra Leone. Travelling with Ibrahim from boyhood to adulthood, from lonely forest paths to the teeming ghettos of Freetown
The works featured in the Prism issue have told a variety of truths. In May the Thirtieth, the poet writes, “I come from a place / where we are closest to sunrise”. You, the reader, could argue the veracity of this admittance.
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The dark clouds for so long became The daylight sky I only know, No moonlight nor sun for a game Nor stars to shine the path I tow, Yet Undaunted embers shimmered. Down came the rain of grief upon Me ; with starry eyes and frail knees pondering the goings-on To a...
It is difficult to understand why humanity is so divided despite boasting the same characteristics. Writing on the subject of "races", one is confronted with the challenge of methodology—whether to approach it from a religious perspective or scientific. The former...
The cfwriterz platform is honoured to present awardees for the month of January. As a way to recognize literary prowess, we have a monthly award section that applauds creativity, style, elegance and diversity. We have awards in the Fiction, Nonfiction and Poetry...
Bound by horrid sorrowful chains, My heartbeat is riddled with pains, I try to seek comfort in memories, They wander instead in nomadic melodies, And as such time, my soul wants bliss, All I hear within and without is, Whispers, such quietness, Hush puffs of words,...
They called me "Striker." He was called "Mature." The rule of play was; should the ball go over the fence, whoever it touched last, would go after it. This was the way football had been played in the lodge before I came in, everybody kept to it. Mature, was a gang...
Life is a mall of chances Set with ranges of choices A survival for all a sundry To carve a future that starry All exist with the crave for love and money For an abode flowing with milk and honey A world of uncertainties we live in Nothing is certain we bleed...
When I was seven years old, I asked my mother why the jar of palm oil on her kitchen shelf was never full. She said, "Pray for God's blessings child". So I prayed and prayed to God for Him to open the floodgates of His kingdom so my mother's jar of palm oil would be...
On a usual day, when you get to the village of Umuchu, there is a maze with a nexus connecting the dirt roads and here, it is easy to lose your way. The path in proximity to where there is a cluster of market women of all grades— prating, haggling, buying and selling—...
There was a time in history when blacks were exhibited in zoos like wild animals. Man! That was a dark part of our history. Even though things are not as extreme as they once were, you'd be the most ignorant being in existence if you are made to believe that the era...
Ifeoma was in high spirits. She was incapable of hiding her excitement. One look at her you would think her a teenager going on her first ever date. But then, you wouldn't blame her. Today was going to be a first for her as well. After all the procastinations and...
