Browsing tag: death

I am a woman now: Jennifer Dafwat

Yesterday I played among the boys and girls I took off my wrapper and held out my chest I invited one of my mates to see the colour of my dirty panties. Today mother says I can't do the same Her and  me are under the same attack Today's stigma came with a flow A stench lingering long after the boys have gone to rest. Mama said I'm a woman now I must learn to cover my treasures She said she was sorry The used cloth is all she can afford To help me drain this blood Flowing incessantly from my opening As for father

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I never saw a rose bloom Never had a garden of lilies But all we had is a garden of landmines. When was the last time I saw a blue sky? There is always a rising smoke With a smell of burnt flesh that assail my nostrils A waste land of ruptured limbs, Parched eyes too dry to cry "Be careful where you do a moon walk bro, the grave is half full" The little boy told me. (C) Precious Oboh Precious Oboh is a passionate Nigerian creative writer. He has worked to poise himself to win the hearts of many with his poetry and

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Yesterday we fought fire with water. Today a flood is killing our children. How do we drown a river? Heavy hearts do not carry love. Tongues lost to grief forget the language of prayer. Some questions Are always hungry like; “is there a god worthy of war?” I know a boy. This is how he spells murder; two bodies in a closet growing into one shadow dying like fireflies burning… burning out. He sings; “It is safer to live walking in dead men's shoes.” I hear the train moving on. past districts where

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The fire at terminus: su’eddie vershima agema

Terminus once the terminal for fun, joy and dance Terminus the place that sparked joy into our souls… Bukuru invited everyone to come taste of the joy of books Rwang Pam followed, laying a carpet to let all get what lines they sought Gada Biyu, calling many to gather, be you who… to enjoy beauty there was Rayfield where the sun rays danced to the scorch of day Rayfield where the moon’s smile graced upon fields enveloping everywhere in a blanket of cold to make snuggles tighter and cuddles sweeter and the

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Mystery in chains: AP

i I fear, this delirious chasm of space and emptiness Looming towards the unknown Unbidden it comes as always, Yet today I wonder, Is it the stagnant rage, Or its bastille walls of indomitable bars that puts me on edge? Still a mystery in chains. ii I fear the weight of my ignorance Hidden in the belly of this fog I know nothing of light Though illumined refraction of a saviour's choice paves I know no path leading to freedom So if ever disenthralled I doubt I'll know it's meaning Or why I should laugh I fear

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We are COAL

We are COAL

COAL’s mission is to support and provide opportunities for budding writers in Africa to develop their creative independent voices and to explore careers in professional writing. To help creative writers and spoken word artists realise their literary dreams by providing platforms for their self expression. .........



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