like the night before,
i crawled under our bed,
from where i watched them;
cut my brother’s arms,
smash my father’s testicles,
plant iron seeds in mama’s thighs
& left me a glass of fresh milk.
that night, death was with me
& he began to teach me how to live.
he dipped his finger in the spilt blood
& let the droplet cool my tongue,
for i was like the burning bush-
ablaze but unburnt.
see, memories are paintbrushes
they choose the colour of our minds,
& stain the mud walls of our hu(r)ts
when dipped in the shrieks of a dying boy.
so last night when the door creaked again
i quietened my heart & listened.
but there were no hoarse voices.
no gunshots. no cow mows. nothing!
just that creak and a huge figure
with glowing eyes entered. It was God!
1 week ago
The poem, "Sugar on wet Sand" by Omodero David, is experimental and daring. The poet is set to take the #poetrycommunity by storm and our fingers are crossed.
Read the #poem here:
#poem #poetry #writing
"Along Came Love" by Zubair Hassan Baba, is what we might refer to as brilliant historical fiction. You may smile or sigh but surely, you will fall deeply in love with Zubair's storytelling style at the end of it all.
Read story here: https://eboquills.com/2021/05/01/along-came-love-a-short-story-by-zubair-hassan-baba/
"...I am the voice of reason,
That dance not to the deceitful tone
Of political eloquence and propaganda
I am the voice above religious hypocrisy and sycophancy
Truth is my warrant and change is my cause..."
Who Hears Me? By Etim Bassey Onyam
Read here: https://eboquills.com/2021/04/24/one-poem-by-etim-bassey-onyam/