How I Stopped Being a Closet Poet
The first time I stood before an audience to share a poem was October 2016. I remember it like yesterday. It was the grand finale of the Scribble the Future Poetry Competition for all-female student poets at the University of Ibadan. I was wearing a…
Bleeding (Part I)
Written By: Ejiofor C. E. S Kamarana wanted to die. At first because of the stinging pain between her legs and the stickiness of the clotting blood that trickled with lazy effort between her legs. But now though she feared she would die of something…
Diary Of A Boy Wearing A Frown
Written By: Abuoya Eruot i want to vacate earth without experiencing death each friday sermon,i yearn for a place that’s not even safe for god in plain language,my depression makes me tiptoe/jump out of my body into heaven/ for a dire aid but the atmosphere spins at…
Six Writers Share Snippets of their Lovelife with EBOQuills
They say writers/poets often have it rough in love relationships. WB Yeats is one poet who easily comes to mind. There are other prominent writers who got roped into unrequited love by ill-fate. They wrote that part of their lives into poems and stories, some…
Sickle Cell Is the New Tribe
Written By: Jeremy T. Karn for bijoux you’ve heard about flowers thatgrow in the dirt. there are flowers with thorns that grow in thebones & some that grow in your aunt’sbackyard garden every morning as you fix yourbones in your body & dress for the…
Celebrating the year in essays: Nigerian Essays of the Year (2019)
Written By: Carl Terver What counts as Nigerian essays of the year? Should their quality measure up to Okey Ndibe’s “My Father’s English Friend,” Ikhide Ikheola’s “The Oga at the Top in us” and Oris Aigbokhaevbolo’s “Whose Radio Is It Anyway?” Or better still, the…
What my Mother Means When She Says, “May the Road be Kind to You”
Before the bus hits the road, mama would lean against the white Benue Links bus — which always has a bright red and deep green strip running through it– and mutter a prayer the same way she did the first time I left Gboko for…
Men Like God
Written By: Owolabi Awwal Olanrewaju The night is cool and calm, birds chirping, owls hooting. The moon is smiling sheepishly, and the trees, dancing rhythmically to the tune of the wind. Men and women are snoring in bed. Those who are awake are probably seeking…
6 hours ago
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Trapped in the poem, "How we Spell Home", are many stories of insurgency and violence that the victims did not get a chance to tell before they were eternally silenced. @OgwijiEhi takes the time to tell them in lines and in verses:
Those #writers who win and get loads of accolades are careful to give luck as many slots as possible. We want to ensure that you are one of them. So, here's a list of free to enter #writing contests in October: https://eboquills.com/2020/10/03/free-to-enter-writing-contests-in-october/
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