Ahmed Aisha is is a Nigerian poet, a computer science student at Oscotech, and an Auditor of the Association of Nigerian Authors, Osun State chapter.

Program To Calculate My Grief Using C+ Language 

Question: Calculate your grief using C+ language.

/*a program to calculate my grief*/

#include <std.o>

void main ( )

{

char a= grief paragraph one;

char b= grief paragraph two;

char c= grief paragraph three;

char d= grief paragraph four;

Note:

grief paragraph one

{

  I open this method to add another language, another color to my language, to bury it under the feather of minutes that blow into years in a twinkle of an eye. father told me that no one hides under the closed lips of the earth without experiencing grief.

grief paragraph two

{

 my heart opens a fresh page of calendar for grief & pictures what my bones and marrows would be after soul drops out of them.

grief paragraph three

{

 just like death whipped my uncle’s neck & his leg stiffed & his body turned white before the earth open her legs & my uncle leaped on her. 

     this turned to a note we hold onto, we worship & we believe death is a phase.

grief paragraph four

{

 I can’t remember the nights I’ve escaped from, from my nineteen years of existence, I’ve lived nineteen different lives & if you think all I need is another chance to live, i will plead to the mask of nature to code me into QBASIC Language starting with “CLS” — close my former lives and “REM” the new one I’m about to live.

{ 

Sum= grief paragraph ( one + two +three + four );

Printf(Sum);

}

}

}

}

}

}

Nightmares

I once asked my father — “can one dream in a nightmare?”

I woke up at the sagging breast

of the world, a homeland everyone 

wants to escape from.

who told you that heaven is a peaceful place to rest head on?

            a son dies now, the next perceived minutes 

would be his mother wailing in mud.

it seems to be —I’m the only one that feels

every sad moment should just be a nightmare.

I’ve watched my brother dying in front of me

like untainted smoke e s c a p i n g through

a small aperture of our nostrils.

I just want this to be a 

nightmare, then 

my throat shall

 rest

and feel no

bile therein again.

can my homeland just be a nightmare?

or if my grief can be solely nightmares.

I just want to rest on my pillow

and taste the remaining leaflet 

of p l e a s u r e.

Contributor’s Bio

Ahmed Aisha, TPC VII, is a Nigerian poet, currently studying computer science at Oscotech.

Her works have been published in kahalari review, eremite, spillwords, decurated, fevers of the mind, trending ink world, and many more.

Her poems titled “Word of God” and “Afterdeath” appeared in an anthology titled “Thirty-two shades of a rose”.

She is currently the Secretary of the Osogbo Book Club, Auditor of the Association of Nigerian Authors, Osun State chapter, and also a member of the IWWG.

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