<body><div class="booster-block booster-read-block">
 <div class="twp-read-time">
 	<i class="booster-icon twp-clock"></i> <span>Read Time:</span>12 Minute, 53 Second </div>

 </div><blockquote><p>Oka Benard Osahon is the winner of the June 2017 edition of the monthly Words Rhymes &; Rhythm backed BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST (BPPC).</p></blockquote>
<p>Themed ‘AS THE MUSE LEADS’, the June edition of the BPPC was keenly contested, but Osahon’s emotion laden poem, ‘IGNORANCE IS BLISS’, emerged best out of almost 120 entries. ‘A TUNE FROM MY FLUTE OF FREEDOM’ by Ogwiji Ehi-kowochio Blessing and ‘MONSTER’ by Ikechukwu Blessing Onyinyechi were awarded the first and second runners-up positions respectively.</p>
<p>Osahon who holds a B.A in English and Literary Studies from Delta State University (DELSU), Abraka, is a seasoned creative writer and was a co-winner of the Praxis Magazine online 2016 Anthology Contest. His writings have appeared on several platforms including Brittle paper, Praxis Magazine Online and Visual Verse.</p>
<p>Below are the top 10 poems:</p>
<ol>
<li>IGNORANCE IS BLISS by Oka Benard Osahon</li>
<li>A TUNE FROM MY FLUTE OF FREEDOM by Ogwiji Ehi-kowochio Blessing</li>
<li>MONSTER by Ikechukwu Blessing Onyinyechi</li>
<li>A WORTHLESS GOLD by Mbagu Valentine</li>
<li>THE MAN MY FATHER MARRIED by Abah Linus Ajene</li>
<li>JUNGLE OF JENTA! by Okoliko Amina Grace</li>
<li>MASQUERADE AT THE SCHOOL GATE by Nwagbo Ebubechukwu Bruno</li>
<li>MIRAGE by Jamiu Ahmed Adewale</li>
<li>A PAINTER OF BLOOD AND WATER by Osemwengie Zion</li>
<li>poesicography by Solomon Olajide Oladipupo</li>
</ol>
<p><strong>IGNORANCE IS BLISS <em>by Oka Benard Osahon</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>It is not the sight of mother,<br>
Folded like a rock warming the sun,<br>
On the lip of the bridge that caught the fake eyelashes, no…<br>
It is child, staring with bright eyes at the speeding chrome wheels,<br>
A well sucked thumb slick with spit twisting her shirt into knots,<br>
Who caused well pressed verbs and tainted adjectives<br>
Framed in glottal stops and affricates, to rustle and fall<br>
From glossy lips like small stones caught in the feverish grip of a dust storm,<br>
On the piece of humanity wrapped in the sun’s warm shade.</p>
<p>Mother Earth has spat her children to the sky<br>
But father Sky has denied his seeds and we stand between;<br>
Hanging like pollen in the air, blown about by the seductive winds<br>
Of overfed vocal chords who crushed truth with slippery handshakes,<br>
And pinched eyes shut with the tips of scented nails.</p>
<p>Mother moaned as several momentous morphemes are expelled,<br>
Her eyes blinked to the return of memory; Yesterday’s pain and today’s misery.<br>
She murmured a question. Gold edged glasses heard nothing<br>
But the worried river flooding the bank with bloated bodies<br>
Or was it the whistling wind wrestling sand off bleached bones?<br>
Pleated skirt pointed to undernourished child and descended into cliché;<br>
Canned words processed on TV interviews with bloated agbadas hmm-ing and ha-ing…<br>
Mother murmured her question again…<br>
‘What did you say?’ pointed heels bent bleached knees delicately.<br>
‘Did you bring food?’ dehydrated lips ask.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>A TUNE FROM MY FLUTE OF FREEDOM by <em>Ogwiji Ehi-kowochio Blessing</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Watch my fingers, sway this way and that way<br>
as I play a tune to recall that day, such a beautiful day<br>
when I broke free from the pen-cuff of themes<br>
Back then, I was behind bars of rules and rhyme schemes<br>
and those days, every single day, from sunrise to sunset<br>
I’d in vain try to write a singular sonnet</p>
<p>Sometimes the prison wardens wanted a ballad<br>
but my muse prepared and severed African salad<br>
with a lot of Abacha, mixed with a great deal of Buhari<br>
and their black stare seemed to demand my remorseful ‘sorry’<br>
but how do I crawl out of a satire, garnished with humor<br>
released to relish laughter-starved fellows; without an armor?</p>
<p>Well, I gave them an idea; ‘make my poem a legal entity’<br>
Give poets the liberty to see through the soul of humanity<br>
by staring long and hard into the blazing eyes of the sun<br>
Allow our rivers of emotions, meander in its chosen distributaries</p>
<p>See, if in a poet’s frantic attempt to be lucid<br>
his words become as corrosive as concentrated suphuric acid<br>
burning the skin on your hardened hearts and sooty souls<br>
let him be excused, for I have seen bombs stroll<br>
out of laboratories to execute lethal pilot projects<br>
yet we swallow the detriments of those experiments<br>
performed by scientists who are mostly left un-trailed nor jailed</p>
<p>So, to the throne and throng, I throw this thorny question:<br>
How else do you expect a poet to exercise his poetic license<br>
other than scribble clean, this sullied society of ours<br>
as he sweeps the system with his overflowing costume of words?</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>MONSTER by <em>Ikechukwu Blessing Onyinyechi </em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Midnight. It’s dark. Everyone else is dead asleep.<br>
But you’re awake, waiting. It’s coming.</p>
<p>The gate bangs open with a metal wail<br>
Footfalls, heavy, like the drums of doom<br>
Booming down the hallway. It’s here.</p>
<p>At your door, a choir of ravenous fingernails<br>
Singing, scratching, scraping on wood<br>
Making macabre melody. It wants you.</p>
<p>Drenched in cold sweat, biting on your pillow<br>
You lie shivering under the covers<br>
A prototype of fear, you groan soundlessly<br>
Leave me alone, I’ll never let you in.</p>
<p>The voice that replies, is in your head<br>
A sad, hushing, hissing whisper wrapping your mind<br>
In wraith-like fingers of smoky mist.</p>
<p>“I cannot go away, my dear. You know that, and you know why.<br>
These nocturnal trysts will never end, as long as you keep the door shut.”</p>
<p>You’re tired. Exhaustion fills your bones like lead.<br>
Enough of this! you think. It ends now!<br>
You toss off the covers, march to the door<br>
Grab the knob, fling it open in angry surrender.<br>
“Come in!” you scream.”Come in and let me have peace!”</p>
<p>Your eyes meet the monster’s, and you gasp.<br>
Those eyes are your eyes, tinged with a hint of madness<br>
Its face is your face, only with an unholy sneer<br>
Its body and yours are mirror images<br>
It is you, but it is not you. But it is you.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>A WORTHLESS GOLD by <em>Mbagu Valentine</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Ti’s above all, this war on Unity must be fought,<br>
And it must not be lost as its cost must ne’er be bought,<br>
It should not be desired, ’cause her gold is worthless,<br>
Howbeit she’s priced when we can invest in oneness?</p>
<p>She must weep all night and dawn for her tears to be desired,<br>
And bought by all who yearn for her worthless gold to be priced,<br>
Ti’s not fit pricing a chaffy gold but we be desperate for Unity,<br>
Therefore must we die of this plague whose cure is solidarity.</p>
<p>Let’s embrace Unity till it be that the heavens touch the earth,<br>
And all mankind see reason to dry up the stagnant river of disunity,<br>
Henceforth must we not fight one another for we grow one breathe;<br>
Till the hills reach the sky, we must make Unity a hallowed deity.</p>
<p>Ne’er will we fight for we must sacrifice every forbidden fruits in our midst,<br>
Only then can there be a worthy gold fit for a profitable feast,<br>
Our hatred must be quenched by a burning love for the sake of harmony,<br>
Howbeit we treasure one another in chaos when we’re but one country?</p>
<p>We must all invest in Unity for it should ne’er be despised,<br>
‘Cause it must be bought as its worth is become fit to be priced,<br>
It must be desired if we must live to exist in solidarity,<br>
By so doing can we restore the chaffy gold of Unity.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>THE MAN MY FATHER MARRIED by <em>Abah Linus Ajene</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>The man my father married<br>
Is from the lineage of lions<br>
He sees thick forest as clear desert<br>
He calls night bright morning<br>
And hunts elephants for breakfast</p>
<p>The man my father married<br>
Is an eagle in sky<br>
He flies to meet the farthest horizon<br>
And travels millions of miles on high altitude<br>
Just to catch a dream</p>
<p>The man my father married<br>
Is a Solomon in wisdom<br>
He knows how to track the tricks of tortoise<br>
And even escape through needle’s eye<br>
To bring breakfast to my father’s table</p>
<p>The man my father married<br>
Is graced in every endevour<br>
He is endowed with countless<br>
Flairs and oils of aptitude<br>
To break the hardest rocks<br>
And mine the hidden gold</p>
<p>The man my father married<br>
Is the mother of my father’s children<br>
He is whose womb I had visited<br>
The one whose breast I had sucked<br>
He is a man inside a woman<br>
He is the man my father married</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>JUNGLE OF JENTA! <em>by Okoliko Amina Grace</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Jump the legendary jungle of Jenta!<br>
Sting not your lungs with wafts of its stink<br>
Skillfully skip its frothy evil filths<br>
For the fish griller smells of smoke more than fish<br>
Tis proud humble jungle of junkies<br>
With gods of whoredom and goddesses of sodomy<br>
Is a poisonous grey garden of Eden</p>
<p>Basking in bounteous trees and sumptuous fruits<br>
Dotting lone hills and manicured rocks<br>
And a dizzying stream that catwalks across<br>
Gliding buttocks upon cursed stones<br>
Fawned hibiscuses flatter lissome lilies<br>
As they flutter purple lashes to natures charm<br>
A picturesque beauty indeed jungle seems</p>
<p>Oh but chimneys from her nostrils paint the skies black!<br>
Pungent putrid weed impregnates the air<br>
Marijuana and cocaine, a strand of noodle their hopeless lip<br>
Maman mama sweats in haste to serve her burukutu<br>
But dingy Danjumas’ hands are much too wobbly<br>
And down goes the toxic brown broth<br>
Spilled sleekly upon a spongy earth</p>
<p>Garose leans upon a tattered mud house<br>
Knocked up and knock kneed in a ripped jean<br>
Sandwiched in two thugs in upturned face caps<br>
As I skittered through that dreadful morn<br>
A withered lad with black saggy lips whistled at me<br>
I simply shook my drooped big head in envy<br>
At how highly elated they easily hardly be</p>
<p>Glossary:<br>
<em>Jenta – a ghettos like street in jos</em><br>
<em>‘Burnout’ – a drink made from fermented corn gruel</em><br>
<em>Garose – a female given name from a major tribe in Plateau</em></p></blockquote>
<p><strong>MASQUERADE AT THE SCHOOL GATE <em>by Nwagbo Ebubechukwu Bruno</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Mr. Kobo; masquerade at the school gate<br>
With ekpo* face and Ojuju Calabar’s* fearful gait<br>
Deep guttural laughter of a vengeful ghost<br>
Smoking furies of evil forest: the chief masquerade of my town and its host</p>
<p>Armed with fat whips like a bloody soldier<br>
Asking for a gate fee or ‘about turn’ home, my dear<br>
Should you fall for his trap, your bail is not free<br>
Roger* ‘Awolowo’s head*’ for the policeman in exploitation spree</p>
<p>Kobo is a kola*-loving god with large gullets as a big boss<br>
He swallows our lunch box to launch his abdominal box<br>
Even his pen needs to be oiled to mark our scripts<br>
We scratch our pockets to scratch for his phony phones</p>
<p>When Mr. Kobo sends for you, first count your books and take stocks<br>
If anything is missing, then pad your pocket or pad your buttocks<br>
Rub his palms or he robs you your buttocks with twenty needles<br>
He has no ears for cock and bull stories or nettling riddles.</p>
<p>Dashing out of the house today, at the door I crashed<br>
But it is better than to be dashed Mr. Kobo’s lash<br>
I have no cash to wade off the clash<br>
A masquerade’s bash is rash and harsh</p>
<p>As I go to school today on high gear<br>
Behind my brisk steps there is this burden I bear<br>
Every school morning, there is this dread I get<br>
I dread the masquerade at the school gate.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>MIRAGE <em>by Jamiu Ahmed Adewale </em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Ghost of dreams on the horizon,<br>
Refraction of light gleaming hues,<br>
Where thoughts fade into a spook<br>
Of unattainable image of memory.</p>
<p>Looking through the mirror of past,<br>
That reflects the emptiness of ettle,<br>
Peeping via the window of tomorrow,<br>
Only to see a man chasing the skyline.</p>
<p>Days of wearing an imprudent wings,<br>
Soaring against the altitude of time,<br>
Running after the shadow of tomorrow,<br>
With yesterday’s meaningless stance.</p>
<p>The firmament is the universal mirror,<br>
That reflect the magical aurora at dawn,<br>
Where beautiful colors randiantly glow,<br>
But vanish into the vacuum of oneirism.</p>
<p>A volume of dusty rubble and malarkey,<br>
Vaulted with vanity of unattainable race,<br>
The images are mere inverted reflection,<br>
Waking up to realize that life is a mirage.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>A PAINTER OF BLOOD AND WATER<em> by Osemwengie Zion</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Our journeys are better explained in the butterfly.<br>
Gently, it flaps its radiant wings against the golden flickers of the sun, bursting of lights.<br>
It becomes a basket trapping hues of admiration.<br>
It becomes a rainbow- beautiful body covering a burdened soul.<br>
It becomes love.<br>
Soon, it meets mother in the field of grains,<br>
Mourning the death of her larvae broken by careless feet.</p>
<p>How do you console a mother whose child never grows to know the taste of nectars?<br>
How do you console a mother whose wings never serve as shelter for her offsprings?<br>
How do you tell a mother who hides daily in shades and thickets just to see another second to<br>
smile?</p>
<p>Hate kills.<br>
Love kills.<br>
Sickness kills.<br>
Health kills.<br>
Beauty kills.<br>
Something must kill a being.</p>
<p>In hope of getting to safety under a leaf,<br>
It picks tiny fragments of its broken soul and sews them up.<br>
Then, journeys back but runs into the palms of butterfly hunters.<br>
Children diving amongst grasses or oldies killing for no return.</p>
<p>Evening comes and it sits still in their cup.<br>
Death would come for beauty soon<br>
And mother would weep seas again.<br>
So, it silently rehearses its death and paints images of blood and water.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong>poesicography<em> by Solomon Olajide Oladipupo</em> </strong></p>
<blockquote><p>i<br>
tonight, i fall for you:</p>
<p>ii<br>
like pieces of poetry<br>
spread on a poet’s wheel<br>
every piece, every bit<br>
remoulded, like clay,<br>
into metaphors of regeneration</p>
<p>iii<br>
like songs, broken<br>
dying, slowly, into decrescendos<br>
every tune, every hum<br>
reawakened, like sunrise<br>
into sopranos of a rainbow cock</p>
<p>iv<br>
like shadows, left without a trace<br>
bound, blindly, into brittle memories<br>
every face, every pace<br>
rearranged, like the destiny of Esau<br>
into brighter shades of portraits</p>
<p>v<br>
tonight, i fall into you:<br>
for<br>
breath<br>
for<br>
melody<br>
for<br>
light</p>
<p><em>*Poesicography is a word I coined from three words: poetry, music and photography, to show how they interplay.</em></p></blockquote>
<p>Osahon takes home the top prize of N7000 cash, a certificate, and books. He also takes over from the current BPPC champion from Rachel Ige, who in May became the first female poet to win the contest in its two-and-a-half year history.</p>
<p>All the poets in the TOP 10 will receive a certificate and free copies of the anthology at the Words Rhymes &; Rhythm Literary Festival 2017. Their poems will be automatically entered for the ALBERT JUNGERS POETRY PRIZE (AJPP) 2017 and published in the BPPC 2017 anthology.</p>
<blockquote><p>“An excellent crop indeeeeed! It’s more awkward than ever to tell the best from the best!”<br>
<em>– Brigitte Poirson</em></p></blockquote>
<hr>
<h5 style="text-align: right;">The Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest, a brainchild of Words Rhymes &; Rhythm (WRR), is a monthly writing contest aimed at rewarding the under-appreciated talent of young Nigerian poets. It was instituted in February 2015 in honor of Brigitte Poirson, a French poet and lecturer, editor, who has over the years worked assiduously to promote and support of African poetry. Now in its third season, and being one of the few credible contests for poets, the BPPC has since grown to be one of country’s most popular, especially among the younger poets.</h5>
<p style="text-align: center;">NOTE: Submissions are being received for the JULY 2017 edition<br>
<a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/call-for-submissions-brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2017-july-the-forbidden-fruit/">CLICK HERE TO ENTER YOUR POEM</a></p>
 
 <div class="booster-block booster-author-block">
 <div class="be-author-details layout-square align-left">
 <div class="be-author-wrapper">
 <div class="booster-row">
 <div class="booster-column booster-column-two booster-column-mobile">
 <div class="be-author-image">
 <img alt="" src="https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/3de36b6da89639b3d80d015f84d2cfc35212bb0678ceb13c46dc8c712831d196?s=400&;d=mm&;r=g" class="avatar avatar-400 photo avatar-img" height="400" width="400" loading="lazy"> </div>
 </div>
 <div class="booster-column booster-column-eight booster-column-mobile">
 <div class="author-details">
 <header class="twp-plugin-title twp-author-title">
 <h2>About Post Author</h2>
 </header>
 <h4 class="be-author-meta be-author-name">
 <a href="https://www.wrr.ng/author/admin/" class="booster-url-link">
 Words Rhymes &; Rhythm </a>
 </h4>
 <div class="be-author-meta be-author-email">
 <a href="mailto:%20info@wrr.ng" class="booster-url-link">
 <span class="booster-svg-icon booster-svg-envelope"><svg class="booster-svg" aria-hidden="true" role="img" focusable="false" viewbox="0 0 24 24" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24"><path fill="currentColor" d="M0 3v18h24v-18h-24zm6.623 7.929l-4.623 5.712v-9.458l4.623 3.746zm-4.141-5.929h19.035l-9.517 7.713-9.518-7.713zm5.694 7.188l3.824 3.099 3.83-3.104 5.612 6.817h-18.779l5.513-6.812zm9.208-1.264l4.616-3.741v9.348l-4.616-5.607z"></path></svg></span>info@wrr.ng </a>
 </div>
 <div class="be-author-meta be-author-url">
 <a href="https://wrr.ng/about-us/" target="_blank" class="booster-url-link">
 <span class="booster-svg-icon booster-svg-sphere"><svg class="booster-svg" aria-hidden="true" role="img" focusable="false" viewbox="0 0 24 24" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="24" height="24"><path fill="currentColor" d="M 11.25 1.5 C 5.035156 1.5 0 6.535156 0 12.75 C 0 18.964844 5.035156 24 11.25 24 C 17.464844 24 22.5 18.964844 22.5 12.75 C 22.5 6.535156 17.464844 1.5 11.25 1.5 Z M 17.617188 16.5 C 17.816406 15.550781 17.941406 14.546875 17.984375 13.5 L 20.972656 13.5 C 20.894531 14.535156 20.652344 15.542969 20.253906 16.5 Z M 4.882812 9 C 4.683594 9.949219 4.558594 10.953125 4.515625 12 L 1.527344 12 C 1.605469 10.964844 1.847656 9.957031 2.246094 9 Z M 16.078125 9 C 16.304688 9.960938 16.441406 10.964844 16.484375 12 L 12 12 L 12 9 Z M 12 7.5 L 12 3.109375 C 12.34375 3.210938 12.679688 3.375 13.011719 3.609375 C 13.636719 4.050781 14.230469 4.726562 14.738281 5.566406 C 15.085938 6.148438 15.386719 6.796875 15.640625 7.5 Z M 7.761719 5.566406 C 8.269531 4.726562 8.863281 4.050781 9.488281 3.609375 C 9.820312 3.375 10.15625 3.207031 10.5 3.109375 L 10.5 7.5 L 6.859375 7.5 C 7.113281 6.792969 7.414062 6.148438 7.761719 5.566406 Z M 10.5 9 L 10.5 12 L 6.015625 12 C 6.058594 10.964844 6.195312 9.960938 6.421875 9 Z M 2.246094 16.5 C 1.847656 15.542969 1.605469 14.535156 1.527344 13.5 L 4.515625 13.5 C 4.558594 14.546875 4.683594 15.550781 4.882812 16.5 Z M 6.015625 13.5 L 10.5 13.5 L 10.5 16.5 L 6.421875 16.5 C 6.195312 15.539062 6.058594 14.535156 6.015625 13.5 Z M 10.5 18 L 10.5 22.390625 C 10.15625 22.289062 9.820312 22.125 9.488281 21.890625 C 8.863281 21.449219 8.269531 20.773438 7.761719 19.933594 C 7.414062 19.351562 7.113281 18.703125 6.859375 18 Z M 14.738281 19.933594 C 14.230469 20.773438 13.636719 21.449219 13.011719 21.890625 C 12.679688 22.125 12.34375 22.292969 12 22.390625 L 12 18 L 15.640625 18 C 15.386719 18.707031 15.085938 19.351562 14.738281 19.933594 Z M 12 16.5 L 12 13.5 L 16.484375 13.5 C 16.441406 14.535156 16.304688 15.539062 16.078125 16.5 Z M 17.984375 12 C 17.945312 10.953125 17.816406 9.949219 17.617188 9 L 20.253906 9 C 20.652344 9.957031 20.894531 10.964844 20.972656 12 Z M 19.46875 7.5 L 17.222656 7.5 C 16.785156 6.121094 16.179688 4.914062 15.457031 3.949219 C 16.453125 4.429688 17.355469 5.066406 18.144531 5.855469 C 18.648438 6.359375 19.089844 6.910156 19.46875 7.5 Z M 4.355469 5.855469 C 5.144531 5.066406 6.046875 4.429688 7.042969 3.949219 C 6.320312 4.914062 5.714844 6.121094 5.277344 7.5 L 3.03125 7.5 C 3.410156 6.910156 3.851562 6.359375 4.355469 5.855469 Z M 3.03125 18 L 5.277344 18 C 5.714844 19.378906 6.320312 20.585938 7.042969 21.550781 C 6.046875 21.070312 5.144531 20.433594 4.355469 19.644531 C 3.851562 19.140625 3.410156 18.589844 3.03125 18 Z M 18.144531 19.644531 C 17.355469 20.433594 16.453125 21.070312 15.457031 21.550781 C 16.179688 20.585938 16.785156 19.378906 17.222656 18 L 19.46875 18 C 19.089844 18.589844 18.648438 19.140625 18.144531 19.644531 Z M 18.144531 19.644531 "></path></svg></span>https://wrr.ng/about-us/ </a>
 </div>
 </div>
 <div class="be-author-profiles">
 </div>
 </div>
 </div>
 </div>
 </div>
 </div>
 </body>
BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2017: BENIN’S OSAHON WINS BPPC JUNE
