“Let her live. Take me Reaper . Let her live” Maroon, the poet who wrote one good poem and nine hundred and ninety nine bad poems in a collection she titled Crumbles of an eon. No one could understand why she did that nor why they kept buying the collection. That one good poem was worth it perhaps. No last name .Just Maroon. She was like none of the other poets. She didn’t hide, she didn’t live...
I’m a black childWith lots of dream and aspirationBorn into polygamyNot by choice, but by force I am that child who replaces worry with solitudeWhere I turn my words and feeling to creative insightsA gift giving to me by God to manufacture wingsAs I run on my heels Gift to inspire hope and saturate courageLines that are too plain to wake and make youmight not be buoyant but words help to...
If you fall in love with a poet;You will fall too deep but you’ll love it.You will lose every reason to struggle and fall with a smile.You will dive in the ocean of his words;Words so perfect like water from spring they will clean the heart.You will bury your soul in the sea of his words and hope he recreates you perfectly.For a poet is a god and his words make flesh.When you love a...
The book store smelled different, it wasn’t the usual scent of new and old pages, there was something else, you look around wondering if the other patrons notice, it doesn’t seem like they do, you shrug and go on about your business, maybe it’s just you, you think to yourself. You don’t know what you’re looking for yet, you will know when you see it, this was your routine, every Christmas Eve...
I make your world go round,You should bow down to me,Bow because I can lift you up or pull you down,Because even in Freetown, nothing is free. Some call me God’s gift,Others say I am from below,Some say I do good,Others know me to be the root of all evil.I make you beg for my presence,I make your children think Love is shown by presents,I make you fret from Nine to Five,Bow down to me; I make you...
I am sorry for the things I have been doing wrong Sorry that I can’t strip this skin For the body you want I always meet myself halfway Forgive me, I am just a girl I will go to my grave Searching for myself There are so many rules Before I can test my wings It is your orchestrated taboos That keep me from flying But I have already known That we are all here on loan My soul is an elysian...
Titun Owurọ 1. Olúfúnmiláyọ̀ The morning was calm and gave no hint of what was to come. The healed wounds of sixty-one years would be peeled. “Grandma, one baba is here to see you,” Owólabí said as he led me to the room where he entertained the said baba. I always believed that a smell couldn’t bring back memories, but his scent brought me back to my youth. I had been in his arms too long...
This is the second edition of our bi-yearly e-magazine aimed to showcase the literary works of the talented writers that we’ve had the privilege of publishing. It is a collection of poems and short stories titled “The Ease in Defeat”. We’ve handpicked these stories with love and hope it resonates with you. You can read and share by clicking on the link below.
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Let’s see our coming together as a unionBut do we see ourselves as companionWhen we trail in the art of love as the only solutionThat ignites the fire in our expressions Are you in loveI’m I in loveOr we both seek for emotional satisfactionWhen we create alternate realities in our mindTo accomplish our set stake Are you in loveI’m I in loveOr we run in line with the...
In the smallness of my grief, I hold all that we used to be. Broken vows and playlists I do not listen to anymore. In the smallness of my grief, I hold who I used to be with you And what I am now without. A shadow lurking in your corner, Hoping the light of your smile Will bring to the surface my humanness. I hold in the smallness of my grief All that I remember of you...
