The Blessing of Air
By Inimfon Inyang-Kpanantia the truest poems start with forgiveness for the things I could have become — more when I needed to be vulnerable so I wouldn’t grow into stone. so you see there is no more flexibility in here,…
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Sleep Ghazal
By Blessing Omeiza Ojo At the IDP camp, where my kitten wouldn’t agree to sleep, I laid, missing my home, my mattress and sweet sleep. Mosquitoes wouldn’t quit the making of music in my ears. Afterward, they sucked me. It…
Spineless Tongue
By Emmanuel Obadara and paint over them / with the brightest colours / known to man / but the pain will always be there — r.h. Sin fading into the ether like sea foam the wind weaves a thread of…
to cleave a cicada
By Emmanuel Mgbabor you pull each nylon wing as you would unhinge a star from the sky’s dress. & for the first time, you watch a thing discolour in your palm. & i love you for this bravery, for the…
DOWNLOAD: For the Love of Country and Memory by Michael Imossan
The NIGERIAN NEWSDIRECT CHAPBOOK AWARDS is an initiative of Poetry Column-NND that seeks to promote the voices of Nigerian poets, as the column does weekly in our newspaper. We hope to prioritize consistency of the award, and in so doing, document the vibrant work…
Nostos
By Muhammed Olowonjoyin in the end, we’re all constructs of things that couldn’t kill us. and what we are left with when their knives fail are fears to pillage our chests on days when we watch the disasters our dreams…
Ordinary Utensil
By Hassan A. Usman For Leo Into March, I follow my misfortune. I am catastrophic— a standout among the recipes for a sad poem. I annihilate the carnation flowers sprouting inside…
Lethargy
By Adesiyan Oluwapelumi I am sick of being okay. Term it my ingratitude. I confess, grace is the sharpest item I have ever touched. Go ahead, call me peeled skin, euphemise my sorrow. Say to my face, mercy tutors the…
Nightfall as a Portrait of Life
By Olalekan Daniel Kehinde Dusk floods my eyes with life, plants me in a zephyr, as nightingales parcel out songs mango leaves trip onto the dancefloor for. The shadow of a cat, cold contours run after the rats scouting for…
What I remember of my country
By Adamu Yahuza Abdullahi I don’t know how not to nurture silence. Every time I write, I am reminded that my country is a broken branch of an olive tree that hangs in the ruin of the wind. Today, the…