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<blockquote><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Izuchukwu Saviour Otubelu, a 300 level Zoology student at the Nnamdi Azikiwe University (UNIZIK), Awka, has won <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/call-for-submissions-brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-september-suicide-behind-the-dark-curtain/" target="_blank">the September edition</a> of the BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST (BPPC) 2016. Otubelu had previously come second three times in a row in the<a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-ogedengbe-tolulope-impacts-change-is-here-wins-june-edition/" target="_blank"> June</a>, <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-unns-valentine-mbagu-wins-bppc-july-with-a-united-africa-poem/" target="_blank">July</a> and <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-lautechs-adams-adeosun-wins-bppc-august-with-the-poetry-of-a-woman/" target="_blank">August </a>editions and placed 7th in the <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-futo-poet-chinazom-otubelu-is-may-winner/" target="_blank">May edition</a>.</span></p></blockquote>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/BRIGITTE-POIRSON-POETRY-CONTEST-2016-UNIZIK%E2%80%99S-%E2%80%98Izuchukwu-Saviour-Otubelu-WINS-BPPC-SEPTEMBER-AFTER-COMING-2ND-THRICE-1.jpg"><img class="alignleft wp-image-4272 size-full" src="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/BRIGITTE-POIRSON-POETRY-CONTEST-2016-UNIZIK%E2%80%99S-%E2%80%98Izuchukwu-Saviour-Otubelu-WINS-BPPC-SEPTEMBER-AFTER-COMING-2ND-THRICE-1.jpg" alt="brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-uniziks-izuchukwu-saviour-otubelu-wins-bppc-september-after-coming-2nd-thrice-1" width="423" height="423" loading="lazy"></a>Izuchukwu, who writes under the pseudonym Usman Kamsi Ojo, claimed the top spot with his excellent poem, entitled THE SUN RISES TOMORROW, though it was originally placed third by the judges. The poem automatically won the 1st place award because the first and second placed poems were ineligible, as their authors had previously won the BPPC in this season (2016) and a poet is only allowed to win one edition in a season according to the contest rules.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Kanyinsola Olorunnisola, author of the first placed poem ‘TELL US WHERE THEY TOUCHED YOU’, won the <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-university-of-ibadan-poet-kayinsola-wins-february-edition/" target="_blank">BPPC February</a> 2016 edition while Otubelu Chinazom Chukwudi, author of second placed poem ‘INSIDE HIS HEAD’ was the <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-futo-poet-chinazom-otubelu-is-may-winner/" target="_blank">BPPC May</a> 2016 winner.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Apart from poetry, Izuchukwu also writers fiction and essays. His works have been published on various platforms, including the Kalahari Review and Nigerian largest poetry sharing platform, Words, Rhymes &; Rhythm Poetry. He is from Isiekwulu village in Ukpo, Dunukofia Local Government Area, Anambra State.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">This month’s theme was “SUICIDE – BEHIND THE DARK CURTAIN”, chosen with the aim of raising awareness about the silent but potent killer that ‘Suicide is fast becoming in most modern societies.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Below are the TOP 10 entries:</span></p>
<ol>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">TELL US WHERE THEY TOUCHED YOU by Kanyinsola Olorunnisola</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;">INSIDE HIS HEAD by Otubelu, Chinazom Chukwudi</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">THE SUN RISES TOMORROW by Izuchukwu Saviour Otubelu</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">SUICIDE by Agbaakin Oluwatoyosi Jeremiah Agbaakin</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">WHEN DARK CURTAINS BECKON by L.P Alani</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">A LOVE LETTER by Sherry Duggal</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">THIS IS SUICIDE by Prince Nwachukwu</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">THE KILLER by Ojelabi Jesujoba</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">WHY HANG THY SOUL? by Nome Patrick Emeka</span></li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">SMALL TALKS FOR SUPPER by Rudolph Adidi</span></li>
</ol>
<p><em><strong>TELL US WHERE THEY TOUCHED YOU by Kanyinsola Olorunnisola</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>Men have crawled into me in search of a home,<br>
But all I can give is the restlessness of guilt,<br>
For inside of me, ghouls of darkness roam,<br>
I am the moon with which bad nights are built.</p>
<p>Why do you wear gloom on your soul like this?<br>
Shattering every shred of your inner peace?</p>
<p>They have toured my body in the name of love<br>
And left memories of forced romance and disdain,<br>
Pretend not to know what demons I dream of,<br>
Speak not as though you feel the heat of my pain.</p>
<p>True, but enslave yourself not to bitter yesterdays<br>
For sweet hope, before your tear-clouded eyes, lays.</p>
<p>When Mother said, “Tell us where they touched you”,<br>
I raised my teenage skirt in the cold meekness of shame,<br>
But I wanted to show her my battered soul too<br>
As the colour of my grief nears no known name.</p>
<p>Only weak spirits wither away in sight of sorrow<br>
Your strength lies in the hands of a waiting tomorrow.</p>
<p>Living comes at too much of a price,<br>
I am in need of a divine song of fire,<br>
Agatha says the world beyond is paradise,<br>
Let my transition be greeted with drums and lyre.</p>
<p>They might have defiled your holy temple,<br>
But listen, in you, the heavens still mumble.</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>INSIDE HIS HEAD by Otubelu, Chinazom Chukwudi</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>The graveside goat gored the good old earth to death<br>
Inside his head, lame flames flickered in their hearth,<br>
Amid the acrid smell of leaves that littered in the breeze<br>
He dreamt of soldiers that sank in a tank like snows that freeze<br>
The five forlorn fingers of a feeble right hand<br>
This place ate up his space – cursed desert of a land</p>
<p>Inside his head, the loose heavens wept like women again;<br>
The tender thunder would all but wander with the vain rain<br>
The ropes fathered chameleons that flee like dead wood smoke,<br>
Much faster than weird chuckles of the big black fig oak</p>
<p>His hurt limbs would not stop; Satan’s gate was near<br>
They craved cursed bread crumbs sprinkled with hell-brewed beer<br>
Inside his head, the wild cat sat beneath the rat’s bed,<br>
Buried with red cups of blood that longs his own soul dead<br>
That neck-wrapping noose will laugh again at sundown,<br>
For what king owns a throne without his royal crown?</p>
<p>The stars swept the floor of their shiny door at night,<br>
To hear the nigh sigh of a rotten pie’s last fight<br>
Inside his head, the vultures danced and sang aloud;<br>
A veal meal was in sight, how empty stood the cloud</p>
<p>Morn was born blind to stir the mauled pendulous hen,<br>
Never to see the sun that scorch the backs of men<br>
The cockerels did not crow nor did seagulls grumble,<br>
For inside his head, life had no cause to mumble</p>
<p>Perhaps, dear brethren, his grains did taste like hell<br>
But worn tongues grow thorns in the truth that they tell<br>
Should winter wield a sword, embrace him without fear<br>
Our roofs still lie unbuilt, that cold we all must bear</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>THE SUN RISES TOMORROW by Izuchukwu Saviour Otubelu</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>There is a freedom which words cannot tell<br>
Submerged in the noiseless screams of suicide’s call<br>
There is a suffering which supersedes hell<br>
Buried in the fangs of democracy’s fireballs</p>
<p>Silence shut his eyes and sank into a peaceful sleep<br>
Beneath the death throes of civilization<br>
Justice was drunk with wine- and lay in a dust heap<br>
Waiting to kiss the red lips of the yellow sun</p>
<p>Our hearts were handcuffed to potbellied promises<br>
Sworn by the unseen voice of elder spokesmen<br>
Our past future dissolved into white ashes<br>
There are fifty chariots, but there are no horsemen</p>
<p>Peace sighed and clambered over the dwarf fence<br>
And turning his face, burst into a sluggish run<br>
I am the surviving worm amidst starving hens<br>
I have no womb, yet I have borne nine sons</p>
<p>The sun rises tomorrow, but I dare not wait<br>
I must go home- to put a knife to this strife<br>
The eerie cry of vultures seeps through the gate<br>
There is a death which is the bringer of life</p>
<p>Nothing remains of my existence but dry bones<br>
Crying for redemption, to a congregation of deaf ears<br>
Engrave these words of mine upon my gravestone<br>
The sun will rise again- but I shall not be there</p>
<p>Ask the coffin maker how much I shall pay<br>
Death is a pleasing penalty for the brave<br>
The sun will rise again- but that is another day<br>
For now, Death is the master; I am the slave</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>SUICIDE by Agbaakin Oluwatoyosi Jeremiah Agbaakin</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>Son, I know how dusk has darkened your youth<br>
Udders of sour anguish have milked your mouth<br>
I see kohl of grief painted beneath your face<br>
Cease not your breath for life still offers grace<br>
Irokos do stand tall towering against tempests<br>
Dab your wounded heart with the towel of hope<br>
Eden lies for the taking if you’d sieze the conquest.</p>
<p>Son, you must sing again the songs of hope<br>
Until the morning removes night’s dark cope<br>
If dwellers of Hades still strive to live in pains<br>
Clasping hands in hands like a praying mantis<br>
In the wait for the Gospel of greening earth<br>
Decline then thee, the dirge of yester hurts<br>
Erase suicide song from the chords of your heart.</p>
<p>Son, the Saracens say the best camels don’t let go<br>
Under Sahel’s searing sun or on the sinking snow<br>
In harsh winters, when away the castle is still far<br>
Covered by miles of dust- the desert’s only tar<br>
It trudges bravely o’er endless deserts of life<br>
Dreaming with sand-blinded eyes, a morrow<br>
Eschewing the mock of crows till home is nigh.</p>
<p>Sever this noose that promises you home;<br>
Untie the worries that make hell the Rome<br>
In your soul, that’s lost its glorious cache<br>
Call no more on ‘spirits’ to numb your ache<br>
In lifting you high, the tumbler tumbles you,<br>
Drowning you back in the seas of sorrows<br>
Exit, son, not your life, but gather her rubble.</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>WHEN DARK CURTAINS BECKON by L.P Alani</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>A river of tears meanders down a mother’s cheek<br>
It wets her tribal marks-they are a reminder of pain<br>
Pain felt in time immemorial and so, forgettable<br>
Nothing can ease the pain she now feels; not time<br>
Blood of her blood, life brought forth from her loins<br>
Has now by its own hand chosen the otherworld whence it came.</p>
<p>A river of blood seeps into the black earth<br>
The essence of life diluted by abiyamo’s tears<br>
The digger strikes the sixth feet and earth knows<br>
Another is returned unto her but this one decades too quick<br>
Does the earth grieve or just selfishly accept even this?<br>
Abiyamo’s tears carry this question to the silent earth.</p>
<p>A wind of sorrow blows open baálé’s curtains<br>
Seated by his empty gourd, he stared-<br>
Is it not a father’s pride if a child thrives?<br>
Now he has but shame that he neither saw nor perceived-<br>
Discontent or pain; or was it madness?<br>
Seated by his empty gourd, he stared into a future now never to be.</p>
<p>A wind of sorrow dries up tears as siblings cried:<br>
Would (s)he have kept this life if better loved?<br>
Tongues wagged where wails would not let the bereaved hear<br>
Vultures feasting on death whispering amongst themselves.</p>
<p>Now when he had shown me this vision, he spoke:</p>
<p>“Child, do you see now the melancholy behind the dark curtains?<br>
We may wander in search of a zest for life<br>
But in all of our searchings, let us seek:<br>
Love. Love is first found for oneself within one self.<br>
Courage. Courage is only found if one looks past one’s fears.<br>
Child, find these whenever the dark curtains beckon”.</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>A LOVE LETTER by Sherry Duggal</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>The blank spaces<br>
between each breath<br>
are like a tug of war<br>
between life and death<br>
it’s a continual fight<br>
teetering between<br>
dark and light<br>
it is the answer<br>
to a question<br>
not found<br>
in black and white</p>
<p>words form shadows<br>
as I become visible<br>
in the contours of your face<br>
not easy to trace</p>
<p>all I have is my mind to give birth<br>
to different versions of me<br>
filling empty holes<br>
trying to distill the dust and debris</p>
<p>light enters through the wound<br>
as words intertwine<br>
they filter through the page<br>
my signature<br>
sealed and signed<br>
more treasures<br>
to find<br>
as I rewind.</p></blockquote>
<p><strong><em>THIS IS SUICIDE by Prince Nwachukwu</em></strong></p>
<blockquote><p>Suicide isn’t only when we hang on a tree<br>
Lest we deceive ourselves with this thought<br>
It is not frustratingly jumping into the sea<br>
Lest the world experience drought</p>
<p>Suicide doesn’t mean swallowing very fat akpu<br>
That whitemen may jeer and cheer<br>
Neither does it mean throttling the neck with agbu<br>
Thinking that the troubles will clear</p>
<p>Suicide isn’t only using motion fan to take one’s life<br>
That perhaps the pain might flee<br>
It is not stabbing one’s stomoach with knife<br>
Wanting at all cost to be free</p>
<p>This is suicide when the listlessness grows unabated<br>
And the horrendous moments come back haunting<br>
When the body can’t carry the thought-filled head<br>
And the heart pulsates like a knocking engine</p>
<p>Life on earth without peace tastes like death<br>
For it pinches as painful as an angry bee<br>
Cowardice it is though to give up one’s faith<br>
For focus and patience is the freedom key</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>THE KILLER by Ojelabi Jesujoba</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>He kills me;<br>
Not with a bullet to my head<br>
Or a knife to my neck<br>
It’s with plenty drops of whiskey<br>
With it he drowns the liver inside of me</p>
<p>He kills me;<br>
Not with poisoned wine<br>
Or an arrow through my heart<br>
It’s with a youthful addiction to unhealthy air<br>
With it he suffocates the lungs inside of me</p>
<p>He kills me;<br>
Not with a vile intention<br>
Or for a vengeful cause<br>
It’s with an innocent ignorance<br>
With it he takes my life away breath by breath</p>
<p>He kills me;<br>
He is me…</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>WHY HANG THY SOUL? by Nome Patrick Emeka</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p>Oh Africa! I bear you searching every contour<br>
Of hazy hearths for the eyes of gods. Tossings<br>
Of pangs as a droning dice against sufferings.<br>
The tree that chewed the head of Okonkwo<br>
Like a kola nut before elders, holds his predecessors<br>
Head in his taunt teeth. The shrieks of gaunt gongs<br>
Hang ha-has of deaths round the necks of our villages<br>
Like an ornamental bead for royal marriages.<br>
We are ferrets fumbling upon the back of this flood;<br>
A breach of blood and sorrow’s serenity–<br>
We’re longing for life, survival, hope and dignity.<br>
Oh Ikemefuna! sink us in the pool of your blood<br>
That we may drown into a sane sacrament with you.<br>
GrandPa once told me the road to peace is this clue:<br>
Throwing ones’ life into the face of the maker<br>
So when life wages war we said suicide is the answer.<br>
Days ago, as the villagers their harvest gather,<br>
One man tied his cloth to a tree branch and hanged<br>
Himself[1], his life into history faded and changed.<br>
I hear of the wild fire in the belly of hell<br>
And the tolling of eerie jingles of her bells<br>
In the embouchure of a lean white preacher<br>
He stutters steadily ‘Think ye not now but later.<br>
Why in hell hang thy precious soul<br>
When thou canst trade thy sorrow?’<br>
[1] Excerpt from Chinua Achebe’s Things fall Apart.</p></blockquote>
<p><em><strong>SMALL TALKS FOR SUPPER by Rudolph Adidi</strong></em></p>
<blockquote><p><em>Halfway into supper, he began to talk with so much power like a hoper. . .</em></p>
<p>“Did we have talks under the staggering red moon?<br>
when I told you my body ached to rid this flesh soon?<br>
Do you remember my river following the hind?<br>
And my laughter that echoed throughout the wind?</p>
<p>I took a boat that lay by that sea side<br>
I hear it was made with wounds from the tide.<br>
No hope exist for my color, hue-man<br>
so I will take that road carved by my hand.</p>
<p>I go by my first name wearing a regalia of failure<br>
known to be misfit, let this be closure.<br>
Let it find my arms, my neck and my feet<br>
so I wear your dress because I now look fit.</p>
<p>Those words I heard about taking you to a better place<br>
are not just words, that makes one win the race.<br>
I’m bounded by royalty of stench and death<br>
Lucifer will scream with joy when I am his birth.</p>
<p>I haven’t just died, I just begun to live<br>
no questions asked, no more fabric of life to weave.<br>
I have studied comfort and it doesn’t live there.<br>
Someone will take my arms, at least there’s light here.”</p>
<p><em>And when it was time, the bell began to chime. He stood up and left the table and the ripper had nothing to mumble.</em></p></blockquote>
<p> </p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Izuchukwu takes over from<a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-lautechs-adams-adeosun-wins-bppc-august-with-the-poetry-of-a-woman/"> August winner Adeosun</a> as the BPPC Champion. He will be awarded a cash prize of N5,000 and a copy of ‘I SAID THESE WORDS’ by Kukogho Iruesiri Samson. He will also receive copies of the 2015 and 2016 BPPC anthologies while the other finalists will get a free copy of the BPPC 2016 anthology and certificates. The prizes will be awarded at the WRR ‘FEAST OF WORDS’ LITERARY FESTIVAL 2016.</span></p>
<p><a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/BRIGITTE-POIRSON-POETRY-CONTEST-2016-UNIZIK%E2%80%99S-%E2%80%98Izuchukwu-Saviour-Otubelu-WINS-BPPC-SEPTEMBER-AFTER-COMING-2ND-THRICE-2.jpg"><img class="aligncenter wp-image-4273 size-full" src="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/BRIGITTE-POIRSON-POETRY-CONTEST-2016-UNIZIK%E2%80%99S-%E2%80%98Izuchukwu-Saviour-Otubelu-WINS-BPPC-SEPTEMBER-AFTER-COMING-2ND-THRICE-2.jpg" alt="brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-2016-uniziks-izuchukwu-saviour-otubelu-wins-bppc-september-after-coming-2nd-thrice-2" width="764" height="396" loading="lazy"></a></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">All the TOP 10 poems will also be published in the BPPC anthology and automatically entered for the </span><a href="http://wrr.ng/albert-jungers-poetry-prize-ajpp/"><span style="font-weight: 400;">ALBERT JUNGERS POETRY PRIZE</span></a><span style="font-weight: 400;"> 2016.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>***</strong></p>
<blockquote><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The <a href="http://wrr.ng/brigitte-poirson-poetry-contest-bppc/" target="_blank">Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest (BPPC)</a> is sponsored by WRR CEO <a href="http://wrr.ng/authorpedia/kukogho-iruesiri-samson/" target="_blank">Kukogho Iruesiri Samson</a> in honor of Brigitte Poirson, a French poet, lecturer, and editor who has worked tirelessly to promote and support African poetry. It is the only monthly poetry competition in Nigeria and a favorite among young Nigerian poets.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>NOTE: <em>The September edition, the 10th of 2016, is the last for BPPC Season II. The contest will resume in February 2017.</em> </strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p></p>
 
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