WILLIAMS O’SEUN is a young poet and graduate historian. Born in the early 90s, O’Seun is blessed with an awe-inspiring creativity and ingenuity. He is an affable nature-lover. His poems are purposive, moralistic and never obscurantist. Plans are in top gear to publish his debut poetry anthology in no distant time.

NOCTURNAL RHYTHMS – BY WILLIAMS O’SEUN

I sing
Nightly melodies
With sealed lids
And closed lips
I sing
Nasalised tunes

I sing
Rhythmic symphonies
But my songs are routine
Sang unconsciously
I sing
A song of snores

I sing
Bassy nocturnal rhythms
Sonorous sounds
Sang in chorus
With toads and crickets
I sing
A song of snores.

I sing
Thick-voiced cacophonic tunes
Like a snouting pig
Nightly, irksome to any conscious audience
I sing
While I sleep
A song of snores!

Mr Olumide Bisiriyu is The CEO and Founder of EGC, A creatively inspired initiative that promotes and produces a wealth of talent.

He is A Masters Degree graduate from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria and has a strong passion for Poetry.

STRANGE WORLD-   BY  OLUMIDE BISIRIYU

I see blue
With all the stars in splendour
My being could not have fathomed
How o’er the sands I still see life
The wells, the seas, the universe
No vacuum I see not to have been filled
Earth, wind, water, and fire
Depravity of our old run state

I hear music
And the tunes I could not decipher
Birds patch on my window
Bugs buzz up on the trees
While the air itself
A music of freshness
Like the gods bless our presence in rhythms
My being is renewed with healing
While the woods stay close like pals
Still filling my home despite eviction

I pray
Let me sleep away in this garden
Of nature like manure to my growth
No need to wait for a paradise
This world in itself is built for such
The meals, the herbs, the feeling
Of freshness and life in sane
Beautiful to sight and soul
Where nothing else breaks the old layers
But for technology I fear the odds

I see doom
When smokes I could not curtail
Fill the air and the earth in pain
Animals cry and run for safety
Maybe in after-life we’ll see them again
The sand could no longer hold ground
Its top notches are washing away
Help! This is chaos but we’r not alarmed
My eyes turn in high speed
I’ve been teleported to a strange world.

DEAR FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FANS,

ITS ONLY TWO WEEKS TO GO, AND EVERYONE HAS BEEN ASKING WHICH OF THE THREE OF THE TEN FINALISTS WILL BE SHORT-LISTED FOR THE Tony Tokunbo Fernandez INTERNATIONAL POETRY COMPETITION

IN MY BOOK, THEY ARE ALL WINNERS, WITH A GREAT FUTURE AHEAD OF THEM AND I WILL DO THE LITTLE I CAN, TO EMPOWER THEIR LITERARY CAMPAIGNS

Justice Uchenna Mmahi(Justice Mmahi) is a young Nigerian writer(poet)
whose innate passion for poetry has been his most potent tool and the
caravan on which he rode on.his contribution to poetry has known no
bound,as most of his works has enjoyed acceptance. His poem “fingers
of homage” was shortlisted for Eriata Oribhabor poetry prize 2014,in
similar vain,his poem “full moon” was also among the poems that was
accepted for Nelson mandela poetry collaboration. To this end, his
poems have been hosted by various blogs,social medias and other
platforms.

LINKS:
Twitter, @Ominipus
Facebook, justice.mmahi@facebook.com
Google+:Justice Uchenna Mmahi

POEM:

THE RIVER IN BETWEEN

When the mallams came,
They planted tomatoes:
to seduce the earth.
not for home use,
But for public consumption!

A viable seed
as red as a burning neon.
On each hectar,
for the unbelievers
who doubted their faith

To save our savoury mouth,
They sold them in markets
under compulsion to reach
the famished masses

like cornflakes
cuddled in sacks
it went rifed in parks

No eager tongue,
could speak of the harvest

Even in churches
to silent worshipers,
and those who sat with no slippers

The earth went up to it
In no tinge of laughter
Smouldering the heart with grievous dust

The Dust,
Of one who was lost
upon the wounded crust

Here are the colours of what we have paid
To keep our bodies laid:
still the least of what they had said

To whose skull had feed,
The earth with much blood.
Brother!
I also have tears for the dead.

Kouassi Atta

Anna is a young enterprising Poet and Achiever from Zimbabwe.

She currently works for ZIMLINK and studied at The National University for Science and technology, Bulawayo.

I AM WOMAN

WRITTEN BY ANNA GOWERA 

Shyly, in innocence, my first bud sprung,

Soon to discern

Who they said was I.

Quick to water with words were they,

Onto which, for dear life,

I strictly hung…

Whispers hoarse

Behind doors closed,

Thus my schooling begun:

“I am Woman;

The crumbling of man.

I am rug;

Nose-wipe for some wicked thug.

I am Old-And-Shoddy-Rag

On which thine vile desires

Thou art to drag.

I am Weak,

Worth no more

Than a broken stick.

All that is about me is dreary and bleak.

I am one on whom to look

With malice,

With guile;

To be abhorred- that is I.”

I drank in the teaching;

Lapped the produce of their tongues.

Biting off large chunks

Of their verbal utterance,

I swallowed them whole.

I withered as I grew

And knew not what to do…

“I am Scorn;

Away from me must the light be shone!

I am Harlot, I am Shame;

Behold my body with great disdain.

I am Insect

Waiting in ready beneath your thumb

I am Woman;

I have no name.”

I listened, I heard,

‘Till, with bloated head,

I did want hear no more.

Something was changing;

My rose was in bloom,

And to contain it within me

I had no more room!

Now my song is different,

Listen and hear

Behold ye and see

The breaking of dawn:

“I am Speech,

Sturdy and strong;

Invoking within you

Emotions long gone.

I am Grace,

A waltz in my walk;

Your mouth agape

Yet not do you talk.

I am Strength;

Your helper, but not your slave.

I am one who came

From The One Who Is.

I am Vigour, I am Skip;

Passion seeps

From succulent lips.

I am Jewel, I am Beam;

Superior in poise,

Entrancing in gait.

I am Shout,

Heed the awakening noise!

I am Rage;

Do you dare to spoil my page?

I am Fountain,

Splashing; soothing…

I am earthquake-

Disturbing in my wake!

I am alive,

I see that I am.

Not as I was,

But now I subsist.

I am Phenomenon. I am Beauty.

I am Woman.

I am Soul.”

I am. I am Woman.

©Anna T. D. Gowera

Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau is a young writer and poet. He  is a Nutrition
and dietetics Student Of federal polytechnic, ede of which he is the
President of the departmental association.

He is the curator of http://qualitypoets.wordpress.com

BUNI YADI: WRITTEN BY Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau

i.
Ill winds blowing
From the house of imp
Has shared the fire
To castles in your estate.

Landmark of fortresses
May be forgotten before
Souls sanctioned reaches kismet

ii.
buni yadi,

letters from hell
may no be received as quick

you know NIPOST;
species of snail

Surely you’ll receive mine;
dreams were roasted on your playground.

iii.
at your backyard,
dear gentle  homeland
Homes were thrown into the forest of finding

Before you,
Travelers were buried with fierce rights

Beneath your cuddle,
Dreamers died dreadful deaths

iv.
Buni Yadi,

Civilians trek with grim
On a faulty home
Caressing ghouls with  numbed hearts

While,

Officers fly on sacred wings
From the snag they planted on our borders.

v.

Buni Yadi,
Pray

Zogie Iyeomoan is one of Africa’s gold-seeds of literature. He majors in poetry, though he has picked laurels (both national and international) in other forms of creative writing.

He spends most of his spare time playing wood-wind musical instruments, drawing and experiencing the bounties of nature, when he is neither writing nor reading. He was recently selected for the prestigious Castello Di Duino international poetry prize.

TONICS OF A MAD MAN

On his head

stood stranded strings of hairs

minced in monochrome hue;

Those stranded hairs are

adjectives of an unkempt life

gazing at the exclamation of vanity

with her neighboring mysteries;

He spoke in mene-tekels;

the mind of the gods

spoke he, to no one in particular;

He smokes words to the air

in sines and tethers

like a baseless old car stereo

playing high-life music in the 60s;

In hysterics, he laughs

as his end notes magnet eerie eyes;

he prides in his product,

feeling fly like a newly unveiled celeb;

Soon, he gets aroused

by ear-teasing sounds

belching from distant local talking-drums;

Like the branches of a palm tree,

he swings his body in all directions,

dancing, dancing, dancing,

till the beats fade out.

Zogie Iyeomoan.

About the Author

Wale Owoade is a Nigerian poet, anthologist and creative writing editor. His works

have been published in the Dverse Anthology: Anthology of World Contemporary

Poets, Via Grapevive II International Poetry Anthology, African Eyeball Anthology

and Epistle of Lies Poetry Anthology with. His works have also been published on

African Writer, Kalahari Review, The New Black Magazine, WORD UP and Mapple

Tree Literary Supplement, Canada. He is the founder of Artbeat Africa and managing

editor of The New Africa Art Review.

Social Media Link: https://www.facebook.com/waleowoadeprofile

Blog: http://waleowoade.wordpress.com

Night in Dear Africa (by Wale Owoade )

Before the dawn takes charge

Of this intimate night,

A shy virgin will cry on

Stained sheet

A lover will be gone like

Night flight

Leaving thick semen on her

Bare thighs

Dawn: A Child will be born without a father.

Before the first dew fall

On this sacred earth,

A door will be banged and

Broken

A deep ghetto voice will make man

Face floor

Leaving new scars on

All face Dawn: A new family TV set is gone.

Before the first cockcrow

On those sleepy ears,

A time will come before the

dawn reign

death will match on some with

Lamplights

thick tears flowing freely as

Night cries

Dawn: A still body laid down for requiem.

Night leaves at sun’s reign

Tongue out – to the dawn.