A Big Airplane Crashed Into the Earth. I read Soyinka’s first collection of prison poems sometime in 2009. Categorically, I need not ‘push dumbfoundment to beg simplification; I hate a wasted talk—I am African’.That professor, I thought his poetry came off as jagged as his hair. But I too was, in admiration and near-fanaticism, curious—… Continue reading THE LENIENT POEM AND SUBTLE MEANING (an analysis by Oludipe Oyin Samuel)
Again, by saving your works and releasing them only on foreign platforms, you are inadvertently taking everything away from us and making us have to borrow access. Right now, we can no longer read anything from most of our good poets unless we first access them from foreign platforms.
what else shall we give to this world, if not the bowl of tears that watered our children’s graveyard?
Look at our daughters They now show no ill in laying with men old as their fathers Look at our sons Nothing is holding them back from scamming the green people with their bad brain and laptops Look at our mothers, fathers, the young men and alike; women, They now have no time for their… Continue reading BLAME IT ON THE MONEY by Emmiasky Ojex
There is something about poets that makes them gods. It is not the relativism of their works or their verisimilitude. It is not the aptitude of their word usage or the striking semblance of a symbolism. I tell you certainly, it is not metaphorism and other categorical comparatives. It is apparently the mystics manifested in… Continue reading THE CONCEPT OF GODHOOD IN POETS: HOW POETS BECOME GODS an essay by Aremu Adams Adebisi
I fight the good fight of the ink Cut my losses I polish my shoes blue And talk in rhymes, the truth. I am a Pen-Wielder! — Nonso Davies Donatus Paper is the battleground With might, I sway my pen Colored in ink, a testament to my prowess My muse; O! My shield On I… Continue reading A PEN WIELDER’S PLEDGE
When I am no more I will still be like the sting of a bee flesh deep in your mind leaving behind traces of my existence. When I am no more I will forfeit this flesh that of frailty reeks. I will peel off mortality and finally cloth me with immortality. Strolling the astral world… Continue reading WHEN I AM NO MORE by Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu
This idea that the best pieces of poetry always come from sadness or brokenness or some inner chaos isn’t true at all. Because of this wrong ideology, many intentionally put themselves in precarious situations. They conjure sadness for themselves even when that isn’t true about them. They deliberately set their eyes and hearts on darkness,… Continue reading YOU DON’T NEED SADNESS TO WRITE GOOD POEMS: A NOTE BY ADEBAYO KOLAWOLE SAMUEL
Poetry is a slice of life. If poetry is a slice of life? Whose life? I have noticed of recent that my poem are increasingly being mistaken as autobiographical. People have so much fused me and my poems that a sad poem means I am depressed and a love poem means there’s some damsel in… Continue reading THE POET AND HIS POEM: POETRY AS A SLICE OF LIFE
Poetry is not inborn. Poetry is not hereditary and cannot be inherited. It does not flow in the gene or trait of any god-poet, assumed or established. Poetry does not compel poets nor does it dictate the frequency of their thoughts. Poetry is as fluid as its meaning and components, as liquid as its concepts… Continue reading DEMYSTIFYING MUSE: A BRIEF TREATISE ON POETRY-MUSE DISSIMILITUDE