Aire Joshua Omotayo is the winner of the Albert Jungers Poetry Prize (AJPP) 2018, awarded to the best poem from the combined top 10 entries of the monthly Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest (BPPC), from February to  September 2018. Aire’s poem ‘How I Became A Poet’ emerged the overall winner of...

We are pleased to announce the 10-man shortlist of the 2018 edition of the Albert Jungers Poetry Prize (AJPP), awarded to the best poem from the combined top 10 entries of the monthly Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest (BPPC), from February to  September 2018. The shortlisted poets, in no particular order,...

The waves tossed at me, Trying to tear me up into debris, “What will be will be!” Was all that came to mind amid the crisis. How does one go from a Pythagoras To a caricature of the Life of Pi? Just that on this turf there’s no tiger to...

I am the voice you hear From your sweet love, dear, Which, like a swift, sharp spear, pierces a young deer. I am the segment you use, The brain behind your muse. I make parallel lines fuse And set every bottleneck loose. I hold the sceptre of a Lord. I...

Submerged within my soul are wise words, which my whole craves, Voices whose roaring breath enslaves the caves of sunk slaves. Last night, I dreamed my eyes to death before the mystic moon; I saw silent silhouettes of owls breaking hens’ eggs at noon, And words began to lay long...

I pray thee, father, speak to the cursed clouds that bear thy son’s wish, For this sick dome I know as home has stung lush lungs off my fish. I try to leap into space, but strange songs sweep my eyes with sleep And dreams drum distant dirges in shallow...

We have journeyed on broken bridges and hovered through flaming caves, On crumbling bricks and through hollows of hell and hades. Our past pricks and the fear of a futile future hurts our heart. Our hourglass of hope counts down in our river of sobs and our faith falls, for...

i This journey starts from the sea-men, Coalition of sea-men to meet the ova; Crumple and trample in the genital’s den And at the blink of an eye, it is over. ii This journey continues in the womb, A solitude dungeon like a tomb, Feeding from the filthy filter of...

When the sun overtly deserts the day And the beat of my heart springs to gay, My soul, that I know is frail Seeks solace in the solitude of my holy grail. The threat to my unnatural existence Is the murmur that conjures my silence Which lays a siege on...

Through the nights of fading muse and the tincture of rhythm and blues, my soul danced on the stage of stammering history with drums and lyres scribbling my story. Through the lips of the nightingales, the gurgling gongs and moonlight tales, solitude blared its jingles through my windows as the...