The day I met an hijab-clad Rukkayat
I realized that even inside bread
Akara can do shakara.
She was like okpa, wrapped in leaves.
When I saw her soft skin and loft lips,
my eyes developed taste buds
and I savored her sweet beauty
In longings and cravings,
I liquefied my love into fura d’nono
poured my proposal in a calabash,
but to me, she said “No. No.”
Have you seen a bottle of sprite,
spitting out its content into a glass?
So it was with Enobong’s eyes-
laced with endearing sparkles,
flying out from her soul in bubbles.
To her, I sent my love in shells of periwinkles
Hoping to have her till life litters her face with wrinkles
But she blushed like a stew on the cheeks of ewedu
and politely told me, “I am taken”
Showing me her ringed finger
like sausage stuck in onion rings
Not many days after;
Lone, and in search for laughter
I went to watch gbegirig dance
her way out of naked ewah,
It was there that I met Adesewa
Whatever made me think she’d give
me a chance, is what makes anyone think
a stone can cook with several liters of patience.
Her beauty was like the illumine of onion bulbs
Her eyes, stood out conspicuously
like towers of meat in a bowl of soup
In her mouth, I poured chilled Viju
whilst tickling her ears with sweet fuji
but like burnt wick slumps into a stove
with a booooom sound, she turned me down.
I hear that a mouth that eats ewedu
and knows not how to say ‘kedu’
has slim chances with Adaobi
So tell me, tell me, my friends,
How do I woo Adaobi?
Is it with countless platters of hot Nkwobim
exuding the steam of desire
served in the presence of the moon;
or bowls of savory sauces and spicy soups,
to which the Achi of flatteries have been added?
In how many plates of isi ewuo
should I bleat my feelings?
One? two? How many?
Tell me how to speak words
That taste like sweet palm wine!
Tell me how to prove to her that
I can guard her like dodo
secures a heap of vulnerable rice grains
Please, before she passes by,
tell me how to woo and win Ada,
for I’m tired out from trekking rejection’s lane
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/