Category Archives: Literature

The poet: missing RIB

Love at first sight
eye balls swim in tears
spot wave in years
beam when heart beats.

I Lean my back on tree
your memories visits me,
your face sparks light,
wind of love smack afar.

You dwell in my heart
leaves falling over me,
your name written on it,
wind brings back your voice.

Infantuation takes over me
your present resufarces,
you are the most beautiful.

Sea blows the sprit of love,
your face speaks my star,
gushing water seal the soul,
your are my missing rib.

BY: AUWAL UBA MUSTAPHA

The poet: don’t misjudge me

Dear friends don’t misjudge me,
I am not a shadow, stop chasing me,
when I am wrong, text or tell me,
you can call me instead.

I have not change, don’t slain me,
I was maimed enough, don’t ruin me.

Release my thought of you, I am still me,
lease my space, never hold malign on me.

I wish, I could make you happy, I am me,
you are still you, we are of different walks of life but we can work things out.

Even the sun and moon get clash,
they get along as well,
they never loom in doom,
it lights, when it glitter.
they never loop the world, into darkness.
from different walks of life but
ONE CREATOR.

BY: AUWAL UBA MUSTAPHA

The poet: letter to my crush


A FEELING TO REMEMBER
Dagger slash through
my heart as the
winter breeze
slashed my skin,

A voice echoed
recurred a feeling,
Hidden beneath
roses and soils
comported in my heart.
Its roots stretch
deep into my soul,

Watered by unending
desires it grows,
Flapping it flowers,
showering my life
with scenting leaves,
And it keep me yearning.

Sparked by
throbbing pain,
It staggered absorbing
the pleasure
I immersed myself in.
This feeling interpret
me a fool in love,

Fool in love
indeed is what I am,
My calling heart ignored,
Feelings left at bay,
Smiles not appreciated.

This feeling
Is not to be buried,
Forgotten,
Or left behind.
This feeling
Is a feeling to remember.

BY: AKHEERAH

The poet: journey Of my birthday

“I am a wanderer
I’ve wandered all paths
I’ve had my leg prints
On this path of life”

“I’ve been through many
Low and high tides
Through thick and thin
I’ve overcome it side by side”

“I am a traveler
That had settled in
A cruel world
Full of lies and betrayal
Someday, I would return
Back to my abode”!

Alhamdulillah for the gift of life
For the obstacles I’ve overcome
For the thorns I stepped on
Alhamdulillah for the fears I faced
For they moulded me into a
Better being!

BY: ZEE ASLAM ABDULLAHI

The poet: Jewelry

JEWELRY
A precious possession
A treasure so precious
With pressure radiates
In form of diamonds
In form of gold
In form of gems and pearls

JEWELRY
Enhancer of radiance
Mystical elegance
Magical beauty
Swift adornement of its bearer

JEWELRY
In various species
In forms of diamond, gold, gems, beads, topaz or sapphire
Carved and designed
To take bountiful structures
To adorn and grace

JEWELRY
Brightens up its bearer
Like the moon brightens up the dark night
An appearance devoid of it is likened to a dish with no spice
An incomplete avatar

JEWELRY
In form of strands appear as gems and beads
To jingle and dangle
With every movement singing its praise

JEWELRY
Adorns its bearer
In various positions
On the neck its close to the heart
On the wrist its close to the vein
On the ear in a dark hole that looks radiant with its presence
On the finger signifying power and love

JEWELRY
As a gift
To express love and care
Cherished and adored.

BY: RUKAYYAH ALIYU

The story: Blood is the colour of Man

Today….

Mum discovered five used sanitary pads in my room

What are these ?

I emm eeee was ..

I couldn’t say anything sensible, my mum was so disappointed , from the look on her face I knew I had numerous questions to answer.

We have to talk when you are done disposing that , she angrily shut my door and left my room

And mum can easily sieve lie from truth, I can’t lie to her with this neither can I tell her the truth

Okay can you tell me why you decide to save used sanitary pads in your drawer

With her eyes fixed on mine.

With tears flooding my face I said , she was supposes to come for it last night .

Who is she..?

She comes three days after every month mensuration

she has never missed the routine for the past six months

Mum raised her hand signaling me to calm down a little

How did all this start?

The first time it happened, I had a dream, where I was trying to change my used sanitary pad, Then a Lady appeared in Black wedding Dress, Stretched her hands her nails were painted blood red, as if been pulled by an invisible force, gave her the used pad, She smiled and said “Blood is the Colour of man”

I awoke, I was thinking it was all a Terrible nightmare till I found myself in the Habit of saving up my used sanitary pads, The same lady appears in my room every month to collect those used pads.

Mum shook her head in pity, she was already crying, I was crying too, she held me, And why haven’t you told me this for the past seven months, I wanted to talk, But was too scared to speak Because the Lady in Black just walked in, I was sure Mum didn’t see her she smiled and whispered “BLOOD IS THE COLOUR OF MAN” .
she walked out of the room through the wall

BY: AHMED JOY

The poet: african Paradise

O YE AFRICAN PARADISE; KENYA!

        O ye
      African 
   paradise; Kenya!

Mind blower and rib cracker,
Peace fueler and love bloomer
O crown holder and chain builder,
praises to thee O.

        Ye
     Flowery 
  soil; weep not O!

Purse thy thrones and pass,
O mother, quaint and just you are,
Ye healthier environment pardon us O,
For greatness shall guard thee.

       O
     Black 
 land; on high table!

Full of glamorous beings O,
With purified hearts flagged high,
Ye’re staunch and famed in the globe,
Kenya my pride.

    O ye
   Mother
of nature; fountain! 

Paper thy pride in the map,
With golden stars above thee
Thro’ the historical and now events,
we owe thee bow

BY: JAEL KEMUMA MIGIRO

The 20 years old Jael Kemuma Migiro, A Kenyan Author, Poetess, Articles and Quotes Writer born and raised in Kenya. Her writting has been published on International and African magazines. She has also participated in online competitions where by she has been awarded. She is Studiying News Journalism at LSJ-London School.

The poet : amidst the scars I nurse

AMIDST THE SCARS I NURSE.

O’ that these feelings do erase
By liquor,straws or depths that rage
This laden heart, if kept at bay
Profit thee what of its damage
No better pain, a while Bethphage
Thus to the cross, their voices raise.

What throbs my heart’s not yond or near
Neither’s it in the wind I know
I sought for love and life that’s dear
For ages reign none came, but lo
My trust in Fates changed for a pear
They did delve me a fatal blow
Not even the Deathly Hallows
Could save this faith that’s turned to fear.

And thus my friends did say to me
“Why mourn the loss of just a pie
It’s fair that one may want to see
Had he been told nowt but a lie”
Tho’ birds in cage will one day fly
Yet strings in me do disagree.

Come feel my heart, depth of my soul
Look thus and see the walls I build
That part of ‘moi’ that made me whole
Has long been bond in kales afield
Great were the pains my heart did shield
For years all sole, alength Sheol
I did thus strife to make drums roll
That from these thorns, roses may yield.

BY: FAUSTEN EMMY-OKOYE

The poet: who is your true friend?

Who is your true friend?
Wailer or hailer,
I found the later, to be mine,
The former is lighter of flame.

Spare a space in heart,
When the hail snail, nail with travail
While, in the future, Narture to wailer
Hailer the mailer of blackmail.

Danger wave the ray of wood,
Anger pave the way of wound,

Wailer wider the wings
Fly above the whisk
Heal your soul, there is risk,

When there is fracture
Warn lead to Stracture

Beware of hailer behind the scene
Wear Where the wind is wild
Where flute dilute with song

Ruin fortune the monster is a roster
Run fore the master of mischief.

BY: AUWAL UBA MUSTAPHA

The poet: imperfect me

I am a woman of purity
A care giver and a heart saver
Yet no one knows me
I love alot yet hurt alot
Am sorry to say but I can’t define myself
It’s just me the ordinary me

I’m not classy base on description
Yet a sight of me scares love from its hiding place
Talk more of beauty
Am usually a redicule to lads
Well I await your definition

Sometimes I go to school with messy hair
Sometimes my dressing isn’t fair
It doesn’t matter though,
The “A”s for a scholarship is my one and all
But “F”s finds its way to all and none

I am not rich
Am so imperfect
Not that regular girl every guy trips for
Yet my presence spices up every discussions
I’m not your class
I can’t afford a present
And your friends?
I can’t face
Yet you don’t give me space

Who am I?
Why me?
Of all girls
You call me a woman of dignity
Maybe with you I can discover my identity.

BY: NSING CRYSTAL NTABRI