By Njikonye Charles N. somewhere in the west of Africa, the sky is plummeting its blue is smeared by terror, & every evening star, running we swerve our tongues into cathedrals of prayers, for violence gushes into each second like…
By Damilola Omotoyinbo here, a man sail storms with a paddle carved out of his fear. a heart mourns the loss of bliss. a mind empties itself of its memories. a woman traces the map. to a home that won’t…
By Joshua Effiong I learned the best way to live is die / with your heart kicking, like what a fetus does to its fragile home / your eyelids flickering like lightning // I have learned to fetch the stars…
By Gideon Emmanuel Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. – Billy Collins childhood memories are like lanterns…
By Olalekan Daniel Kehinde on the head of green hopes nested whits of weeds towering into empires; small colonies carving circumferences of warmth, bordered landmarks. son, brave beaks formed these homes with veiny bones from skeletal trees. the birds, they…
After Anthony Okpunor’s “Confession” By Charles Nnanna there’s a hole in this poem. a buried hole. each line is a seed in the quiet; cracking, desperate for daybreak: see a soul longing for a body, see a tongue toiling to…
By Ehiorobo Derek My body is a wild flower that only blooms at night. When the day comes, I rise with the sun, you see, I consider myself its student. I have always been given to combustion. Once, when I…
Poetry Column-NND is currently closed for submissions as our updated Submission Guidelines specify. Closed Period: From October to December, we do not receive unsolicited poetry submissions but will instead publish works carefully selected by our curators, if possible. General submissions will open…
By Abdulkareem Abdulkareem My bliss is a gun empty of bullets, teach me how to mould a body that won’t know the way to the middle of a river, how to sing a song that won’t pull my throat towards…
By Eniola Abdulroqeeb Arówólò these syllables foaming in my mouth like bubbles resurrecting on the face of a lagoon are tasteless & ominous when requiems keep bursting out of me like unstoppable deluge. i filch a song from the mouth…
