By Oyindamola Shoola For two years, you’ve huffed and puffed.Yesterday, you did a negativity diet;today, your cure is a sunbath.Tomorrow, it will be a gummy bearthe Kardashians share,and next week, it will be a slimming teapromoted by an Instagram herbalist.…
I followed myself for a long while, deep into the field. – Richard Siken the field is always unfilled, forget the sunshine spilling atopthe land. if the body had wings, it would grasp the air& never let go.where do our…
By Ebuka Evans lord knows, like a child banished afresh from womb, my lips long for the flower of a lover’s nipples. lord knows i do not intend to take from another’s to fill mine but i am a hollow…
By Splendor Victor In this poem, I am not withering anymore.I wake to the petrichor of soft light, and I recalllast night it rained—angel wings drizzlinglike daffodils. And see now, a garden.And butterflies dizzy with joy. God breezes by atevening.…
By Abdulrazaq Salihu For the people that hold me with fur My misery is a small pill,A body, punished by light& at the threshold of mySuffering my mother stretchesHer hands towards the darknessBefore it touches the flowersIn us, and my…
We are pleased to announce that Fatihah Quadri Eniola is the new Social Media Curator of Poetry Column-NND. Born on a Friday in December, Fatihah Quadri Eniola is a Nigerian poet whose work has been featured in Torch Literary Arts, Blue…
By Eniola Abdulroqeeb Arowolo after Notes on Ambition by Ernest Ogunyemi The soil once vegetated by luscious fernsIs now riddled with summer heat & dry stumps. Mutable music of seasons rends meThe essence of life—steadied for fruition, Seeking rudder for…
We are pleased to announce that Muiz Opeyemi Ajayi is the new Assistant Curator of Poetry Column-NND. He takes over from Ayo W. Oriolowo in this role. Muiz Ọpẹ́yẹmí Àjàyí (Frontier XVIII) is an Editor of The Nigeria Review, Poetry…
By Nwodo Divine The rasp of a moth wing, caught between windowpane and the moon’s hard gaze. A silent question mark fluttering against the future, the shadow stretched before our eyes, but kept moving towards the bloom, petals heavy with…
after Patricia Smith By Ayokunle Falomo Didn’t your teachers teach you to ask good questions before starting any venture at all? What good is archaeology, anyway? May I ask you about poetry—yours, what good is it? It’s been 10 years…
