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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
By Chinecherem Enujioke On this beach, there is no one. The footprints say too much. About the past. Things that remain unsaid but heard. Voices reaching to join the hallelujah from the church atop the hill. I raise the sand…
By Osieka Osinimu Alao A chancel of songs looped in reverse is a pointer at damnation. Who keeps stealing the crucifix, cremated verses settling as ash upon a tapestry of stray tongues? At least if we are going to die,…
By Abdulmueed Balogun Adewale (For Shabina Feisal) Take this tawdry dunya by the edge, like the frail wings of a moth, with the tips of your fingers. Take life as a staged melodrama full of cameos, seasons of plots and…
By Okoronkwo Chisom My grandfather told my father that he could be anything he wanted, so he chiseled his body to look like rain. He fell in droplets into a tank of an abstract noun — a name that lacks…
