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African Poetry with editor Vera Ignatowitsch

In The Midst of Plenty


Hungry and thirsty

Lonely and bored

Poor and blind

In the midst of plenty.


Idleness and joblessness

Wishes and dreams,

In the midst of plenty.


Handicapped and constrained

Helpless and hopeless,

Struggles and wars

Ups and downs

Tosses and rebounds

In the midst of plenty.


Rejections and defections

Depressions and retrogressions

Stress and strain

Pain and rain

Anger and rage,

Bitterness and uneasiness

Yet in the midst of plenty.


Uneasiness, unsteadiness

Unhappiness, unforgivenness

In the midst of plenty.



Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer who has published over one hundred and twenty poems. Her first two poetry books, The Transformation Train and Letter To My Unborn, were published in Kenya and Canada respectively and are available on Amazon.

Lonesome Goat in Blue Funk


I am the most beautiful hollowed-horn mammal,

But this countryside has given me a horrific look,

I imagine myself standing on a stump beside the

Whirlwind, and my stomach muscles throwing up smoke

Of gray colour with satisfying compromise of burn.


Now, I am wet behind the ears of my dense sense,

Observing that the earth is green to the point of giving

Green light a bite, even when there are no green grasses

To bite, for the breadbasket of my abdominal region.


I wish I could have the energy to describe my feelings

To the world unknown, and tell my ancestors that there

Is no egg in my beer, and hunger is busy blooming a stark

White contrast to my deep dark wound of torture and travail.


I am punch drunk as a smoke duct floating on surface layer,

With my jewel of a goatic voice I bleated for help several times,

But the green grass activist is green with madness against me,

Calling me an airhead and a useless goat of the 21st century,

Just because I have five jobless husbands with no children,

It was condition that bent the waist of crayfish, this world is wicked.



Ikechukwu Obiorah is a Nigerian writer, a prolific poet, and a novelist. His poems have been published in Poetica 2019, Ponders Series, Sage Cigarettes Magazine, the Nigerian magazine EroGospel, and others. Poetry has been his sweetheart for a decade.

The Termite Hill


Have you seen the termite hill of hell?

The hiding place of the brave prophet of the past . . .

a purely white garment decorated with the shining pores of death.

The queen of my pen, unseen but real? Or vice versa . . .

full of emptiness, empty of satisfaction.

The mirror hard work, the hidden jewel of Afrik’

that plagiarizes the handwriting of fate . . .

the mistletoe that sucks the sap of the growing tendril,

the tendril that placed its fate in the hands of a well-fed ill god.

If you have seen all these,

you will be the teardrop on a land flowing with milk

wholly a greatness of the termite hill of hell . . .



Ojo Iyanuloluwa Samuel was born in Ibadan, Nigeria. He has been writing poems, novels, and articles since he was twelve. He is passionate about uniting Africa and transforming her into a continent that will bring satisfaction and joy to all her citizens.

One Day


One day,

Applause shall be raised for me

As I will stand on a podium

In front of an audience

Electrified by my presence.


One day,

I shall tell the tales of

How I waddled in abject poverty

As a bastard of unwanted pregnancy

A cursed son of the soil.


One day,

My voice shall reverberate and tell the tales of how

Flies that hunted me for my mucous

Taught me lessons

To do anything for my dreams.


One day,

I shall look back on this day

And remember that on this day

I foresaw my future

And all that will happen in just . . .


. . . one day.



Stephen Alayo is a 16-year-old Nigerian poet whose aim is to spread awareness to the ends of the Earth and start his own NGO in the future.

Bubblegum Love


Yeah! it felt sweet to me

Her luscious voice whispering in my ear

“You’re mine forever”

Not knowing I was just junk of fragrance

In between her teeth

Soon to be solidified down to soil like ashes.


Well! I was treated like Ngwazi

In her worldly imagination

I guess I was dressed in beautiful robes

Not knowing I was junk of fragrance

In between her teeth

Soon to be left crumpled like a rose dying for water.


Alas! I made her cry, sounds of sweet sorrow

Wondering where I was

Through heartbreaks she suffered

I felt like her unique guardian angel

Not knowing I was junk of fragrance

In between her teeth

Soon to be left dry and stinking across a desk.


Awkwardly! she failed to fight for me

Did nothing to return favors

Only craving for the seal

Signifying matrimony

And I shouted, “for real?”

Not knowing I was junk of fragrance

In between her teeth

Soon left wondering if she’ll survive my desertion.



Symon Maguru is a Malawian poet and journalist, born in Blantyre, Malawi’s commercial city. He writes about his experiences in life, culture and religion. He has been writing poems since he was 16 years old.



Butterfly butterfly fly

Flap and slap wings high

Unleash your stream of colours

Weaving an embodied emblem

Gush out that beautiful charm

Spell the buds

Bloom the rose

Open her doors

Drought her nectars

With that seductive sip


Butterfly butterfly fly

Flick the darkness with colours

Long silent night

Waiting for you at the ball

I will still wait even if tomorrow never comes

But I sense you far away

So spree on those wings

Soar and sail the winds

Come oh! Butterfly

Berth in my heart


Butterfly butterfly fly

Come close and near

Glare into my sight

Pour your colourful spell

As I do not hold my perfection

But open my heart

And host you in its chambers

Like a column of smoke

Puffing from the nostrils

Ride into my life

Feel it warm in our grasp

Lasting in your good eyes

Your presence delights

Butterfly butterfly fly



Francis Ocran is an enthusiastic poet from Accra, Ghana. He has written several poems, with some published in international literary magazines. His works can be found on his personal website

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