in search of a tug of war, you blindfold the sky. like a cabbage. like a seed. like a fold of clothes beneath the loin. nothing marches the universe of wildfire like a tongue of stones.
‘FIRST…WITHIN’ / ‘BEYOND CONFORMITY’ / ‘JUST A JOURNEY INTO THE DEPTH’ / ‘ODE TO THIS BEAUTIFUL SPACE’ / ‘THE LINE’ | five poems by Obinna Emmanuel
In every leaf, in every stone,
The world’s reflection, deeply shown,
To change the world, we must rehearse,
The change begins within our universe.
‘BOYS TOO WERE RAPED’ / ‘SUBDUED TONGUES ON THE BENUE BRIDGE’ / ‘TALES CAUGHT IN MOTHER’S BREATH’ / ‘CROSSING THE BORDER’ / ‘MEMORIES’ | five poems by Daniel Aôndona
The first time my eyes saw a girl’s nakedness
was at sixteen, when my body became an altar
for a forceful ritual of iniquity by a girl
My Name Is Grief | a poem by Mohammed Taoheed
i know this eventual
oneness is my grief & i cup my hands around it.
neck-deep – the mire yet yielding and yielding around me.
TODAY IS NOT THE DAY WE DIE ‘ / ‘ALONE IN THE CROWD’ / ‘THE EXECUTIONER ‘ / ‘CAN I TAKE A DIP? ‘ | four poems by Olumide Holloway (King Olulu)
One day I will write a poem about the tears,
That stain my face throughout the years.
‘I’M ON A HIATUS FOR PSALMS‘ / ‘FURLONG‘ / ‘ON DAYS WHEN THE AIR IS GRIEF‘ / ‘TO KISS ATAVISM‘ / ‘EXILE’ | five poems by Olayioye Paul Bamidele
here, the only ode is a receding
of insult. instead of pillows, my guardian
uses a slab, nets it on my nape & calls it
discipline. yet, that same night, cracks open—
like an egg—a psalm with my name.
GRACE (a poem by Blessing Omeiza Ojo)
I asked a boy, an orphan, bathing the street with waters
from his body, what led his pedigree to rest.
He said it was a bullet from a drunk policeman’s riffle.
the village chief’s wife & the boy who told tales to a blue bird (a poem by Kukogho Iruesiri Samson)
Today, the chief’s wife visited the village square
her once-rectangular parts now are square!
but we dare not boo or harry her…
OSOFISAN | a poem by Overcomer Ibiteye
my matchbox world gives my family light from my moon
for we are soluble in this water of being
VERSES FOR SAGES | a poem by Peter Itanka
D is for D.O. Fagunwa, the bullroarer who rode in his pen horse for an Expedition To The Mountain Of Thought. D is also for Dele, the town crier whose large bell rings out: Do Not Die in Their War.