FROM THE BLUES (ISSUE 7)
by Mbanefo Chibuike
San Jose came years ago booming,
To stifle the breath in the dying,
Seismic wave sweeping the heavens and earth,
Until mother and I were humans left beneath,
Lost in the movement of planes, smiles lined in patches,
Unsung heroes slept in the battle grounds.
Twelfth monthly, the wave comes,
Mother spreads her legs, she beckons,
Free from fear, she destroys her wall,
For we can only conquer when we fall,
Bloated breasts, mother is getting older,
Humanity’s hope lay in her vagina.
Mother watches as I make the first thrust,
Sobbing silently, pains lodged in my heart,
Tears nested in her deep blue eyes,
Droplets: sunshine ensconced in the dark skies,
Hung so low like pregnant mother,
Gloomy, strange messages they deliver.
Standing at the feet of fresh graves –
Yearly, lugging hopefully without trails,
Again there are two of us: I and Mother,
Slowly, mother slips into coma;
Traumatised, she has failed to conceive,
Winged-wave wheels high above.
Locked beneath, eyes coloured with relief,
Face bleached with darkness; a year left in grief;
Laden with sudden energy before midnight,
When San Jose is known to visit;
Enshrouded mother opens her deep blue eyes,
Like a man marooned, the wave guffaws.
Mbanefo Chibuike, a lover of poetry and prose, was born in 1995 and brought up at Awka in Anambra State. He was educated at Nnamdi Azikiwe University Nursery and Primary School, and Unizik High School, Awka. He is a 400-level student of Federal University of Technology Owerri, Imo State.
by Martins Tomisin Olusola
My five-five-fingers of my hands
Zestfully lived in serenity.
The three thrill fingers of my right hand:
Thumb, index finger and middle finger
Stoutly lived amongst her brothers:
They rested gleefully upon the placid,
Perched in the midst of the three thrill fingers
And laid rest upon the hungry, virgin dusky-sheet,
Which sprawled bear flat on the glossy desk.
The glossy desk accompanying the earth
The earth accompanying its depth.
The other two fingers of my right hand:
Ring finger and little finger
Calmly leisure, plopped on the hungry, virgin dusky-sheet
And lent ears to the sharp-sable-pointed-dart,
Muttering vignettes of yesterday
Muttering vignettes of today
Muttering vignettes of tomorrow.
Upon the glossy desk
My five fingers of my left hand, too, laid,
And eyeballed the sharp-sable-pointed-dart,
Muttering deep thoughts.
All you who waded through lines:
All you who unearthed the heart
Of this Earth, hunting for treasures
Pore over my ten fingers.
My ten fingers,
As pure as a full virgin moon.
I have dunked deep my five fingers
Of my right hand with my progenitors
In a bowl of sweet dishes
And nibbled singed YAMS amidst
the thriving vegetables.
But my forefinger of my left hand
Has never been raised above
To curse the heavens
Never been raised up
To pinpoint my progenitors’ homeland
Never has it tasted any depravity
And never would it be licked
Or bitten by savage butchers
Who loved to fatten themselves on murder
And gratified their heart with
Juicy cup of blood and gore.
THE GOLDEN BANGLE
by Ebenezer Adaramodu Zerry
The Zueen of my heart
With many desires
Only cares about her attires
Every outfit ascertain a hit
My mind expresses the cupid’s kindness to complement it
But a mystery in forbearance to unravel
Gives a signal to an indifferent mind
Tried many a time, to bury any rift
The last time we were on it
She made promises of being rooted to my heart
But this time, like the sky, her mind was made-up
Her mind wasn’t on a straight line
Either, was I thinking straight by measurement of life
On a different line,
By myself, I was able to pick up
And all I could utter was: “What do you want?”
Alas! She kept mute to the request for a bounty
The silence in possession contradicts her calmness,
Her ineptitude in emotional trauma jailed
She couldn’t blink an eye so idle
But then, she smiled
A kind of smile an inmate gives when set free
Yea, she got her liberty
And with a lightning bolt
She gave a reply, “Golden Bangle.”
Confused like a pensioner on Duduria Island
A rephrased answer tethered like a question – “Golden Bangle?”
“Yea, Golden Bangle,” she said.
Golden Bangle; that’s one of her heart desires
To express my cupid’s kindness
I did go extra mile to get her all she ever wanted.
Though, the road was patchy and rough
I toddled, wobbled,
And still made a smooth ride
Wailing wailers on the highway
Unbridled mouths with zero volume-down
Littered the pedestrian way
As noisy as parrots
All were inimical
All were irreverent
All, I ignored
And after so much haggle, daggle with the baggle
Finally, I bought her a Golden Bangle
She was so excited like a Yaro with a ‘Masa‘
And she said, “Thank you Zing, any word?”
With a great aplomb, I said, “Zueen, in this sphere,
I’ve done several battles,
And never ever lost
If need I battle again like a tinder
Then, it must be for your love
My heart blazes for you like fire
Don’t bother gather the flames
The Golden Bangle was made from it,
And I hope it complements your next outfit.”
In my mind, it’s so crystal clear,
I have satisfied her heart desire
More words, zero rift.
*Zueen: Writer’s expression for Queen
*Duduria Island: Writer’s expression for a country
*Masa: Maize cake made in Northern Nigeria
*Yaro: Hausa language for a child
*Zing: Writer’s expression for King
Ebenezer Adaramodu Zerry (Zerrified Poet) is a graduate of Microbiology from Adekunle Ajasin University, lives in Lagos. Aside from being a suave writer with an impeccable diction, he loves to get nice exposure with his camera lens.