March & April 2020
Vol V No II
Not your ordinary poetry magazine!
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Published bi-monthly
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 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 www.francispoems.blogspot.com.