They said the moon would weep with us when death
eats supper in our huts but as soon as the sun slept off,
she sharpened the claws of the stars &led them to our huts
Watch how you hold the words of this poem ‘cos they
are stained with blood from my brother’s neck.
&Night is the scaffold on which he was murdered.
Our farmlands hum a familiar tune, with its lyrics in the
mouthparts of a swamp of migratory locusts whose
wings are death’s blade &the messengers of holocaust.
in our land, sunset is a pallbearer, his shoulders bore the
cold lyrics of dirges, wrapped in shawls of beats to the
internment of my brother &his child, the one who drank
from the calabash of death ever before he tasted life
At the confluence town where the flood &blood meets,
history weaves a bridge with the bones of the fallen,
&hate together with vengeance readies to walk thereon.
as surely as the smoke from our burning grief ascends-
diffusing boundlessly to the generations unborn, Today
owes Tomorrow apologies. for this smoke, is the undying
voice of a fire that can reduce love& unity to ashes.
Just as the chorus of crisis in Agatu’s throat came bursting
on Makurdi’s lips, the day is coming when their silence will
return home with the head of peace on the shoulders of a
full blown war, & they’ll see that silence is not a blank sheet;
it is a note of affirmation, written with such tiny fonts that
becomes legible when placed under the microscope of logic
So, when a man who has shared a table with wars &knows
the bitter taste of abattoirization, decides to roast his regrets
in the coals of counsels, salting it with tears &oiling with sighs,
our mouths must eat some for dinner &make reserves for breakfast.
2 hours ago
Every month, we encourage writers to set reading targets. Draw up personal reading schedules and add more books to their "must-read" list. You know why?
Because a book is a friend. And we writers have so few friends because we are laid back and our energy levels don't just match with the ever-bustling world.
So, tell us, what books are you reading this December? If you need suggestions, send a DM. We will be glad to suggest some books to you 🙂🙂
Enjoy your December! ... See MoreSee Less
"...but sometimes, the sky breaks into dawn with the proclamation of
thunderclaps & gloomy downpours, instead of the gaiety of sunshine,
as if to say that it, too, is still learning the art of joyfulness."
- By @boloere_sod
#poems #poetry #poets #eboquills #thursdaymorning
Every line of these poems is embroidered with mesmerizing metaphors. The poet @AyooluwaOlasupo shares what we would like to call a personal documentary of her journey to healing. In all, her poetry is full of hope and promise. https://eboquills.com/2020/11/19/two-poems-by-nigerian-poet-ayooluwa-olasupo/
Mustapha Enesi's (@Enesi_Is_Fine) story, TRISHA is a sizzling short story. It makes a worthy read for the adventurous. So, if you love adventures, don't sleep on this one!
#stories #shortstories #storytime #eboquills #storyteller