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.


San JoseMbanefo 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.

IMG_20170701_104404Martins Tomisin Olusola is a student of Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ago-Iwoye, Ogun State where his poems have earned him recognition and awards.





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

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 ZerryEbenezer 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.


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