Cherry Blossom – A Collage by Othy
Arunsi Othniel Fortune, better known as Othy, has put out a collage of poems called Cherry Blossom. It is a beautiful piece of literary expression that, as Abdulquadri Saka-Bolanta describes, “explores some generic human emotions in popular circumstances such as denial; largely as experienced by the author, some of which you might easily relate to and others you might not.” We are proud to share his work with you. Download Cherry Blossom here.
P I E C E S by Arunsi Othniel Fortune
Image: Mwangi Gatheca for Unsplash I know what it’s like being in your head. Dark, cold, happy. I know what it’s like being in your soul. Lit, warm, dead. I know, what it’s like to see right through your eyes. Because we’re both blind to a reality where I had to sail across seas to find you, sinbad. Heh, see I know that you’re scared. You’re frightened by the waves and how much they’ve Caught you, drowned you and made you lost, captain. Where’s the depth of the deep, within the darkness of The shadows and the castles you built so steep? What happened to the kid who learned how to ride a bike, The one who stained himself with dirt, the one who cried. Not because of pain but because of attention. Now you shed less tears and carry more hurt, you speak your heart less and feel your thoughts more. Where’s the child, this silver tongue, the one I know? Is he lost, is he dead, is he out with the figures cast by the light in a Dark room? Who knows the captain and his crew? I know you, I know how your head is spinning like the compass in your possession. I know you, I know that you still see the greater good to all of this. You’re in a wilderness of waters in an island of your soul, Within the very fortress you built to keep you, out of my reach. Why can’t you see I won’t leave? Why can’t you see I won’t stop? Why can’t you see that we both, us, together, aren’t whole in our separate individualities. Of a puzzle, pieces. Still to be like the triskellion, One-half of each other, we both are our own trinity Forging each other like lakes of hot coal in a shed of iron How much more, how much farther my Lord? But I am your Lord and you are my servant As you are my Lord, for I am your servant! Incomplete without the other, Ingenious if we stand together You must be kidding me, how are you a parent? Why is it so apparent, you must be really virtual I must be really stupid, you are so many things I’ve come to sit with Kings. How come you sit with me? I have the crown on me, but you wear me on you. You… Have got to be lost. How come you call me home? When I don’t want to answer, when I can’t accommodate you Even if I do give directions, how come I’m North Why do you look up to me? Simply put, I’m the very piece of you that went missing inside you. If you’re going to bleed me, cut your heart, we’ll die faster. After all it’s the same grave but not the same grounds. Your heart’s a safe place but not a safe house In the end, you’re my end: Pitiful. Othy If you cannot see the audio controls, your browser does not support the audio element
Three Course Meal by Tonton Nelson Raymond
Lot of these guys talk much about how “shawty look like a snack” But I think you look like a three course meal. It doesn’t matter if I do, or don’t mind A little belly fat is still fine God is a tattoo artist and stretch marks are his design You’re not just a barbecue, you came with sides. Peeking out of your hijab These things are hard to hide And as I get ready your order, filled with the green like vegetable soup I want a partner that will nurture me like a mother Amala thick girl who will complement me well We’d be the special of the heavenly cook Such a match means that I hit the shot, I put the ball through the hoop. If I’m tea leaves, you’re hot water. You draw out all of my potential And we form something new Move my kinetic, putting the static in motion If I am the Earth, you are the oceans So it is you that keeps the skies blue Evaporate to condensate and make rain fall. You water the dry lands of my soul. Lot of these guys talk much about how “shawty look like a snack” But I think you look like a three course meal. It doesn’t matter if I do, or don’t mind A little belly fat is still fine Besides I’ve always liked plus sized So I think you look really good like that You look take-away, a single serving of you can’t just finish like that You leave enough with me to take back Enough knowledge from the conversations A linger of your perfume An after taste of our kiss And lipstick on my shirt collar A voice in my head when I get home whispering “call her” They don’t know what they are missing You’re a cake and I’m passed the icing I know what is in the filling I’ve experienced a feeling that is filling Lot of these guys talk much about how “shawty look like a snack” But I think you look like a three course meal It doesn’t matter if I do, or don’t mind A little belly fat is still fine God is a tattoo artist and stretch marks are his design You’re not just a barbecue, you came with sides. Intelligent ones Physical ones Historic ones And some of which you are shy. But they’d swell out of a cassock Peek out of your hijab All that beauty will leak out your frame They’d ooze out of your mind. You know why? Cos true beauty is hard to hide Tonton, 2018
Shall I Compare You, Woman?
African woman.Image taken by Martin Kirigua for Pexels.com By Abigail Abby Abok Woman, Shall I compare you to a giant sequoia? You are stouter and more reverent. For trees once stood where skyscrapers now do And winds do strip forest of tough trees. You, most precious creature, flourish amidst the flaming fires of society’s limitations, Defy expectations And resist the pestilence of inferior classification. Shall I compare you to a cold glass of well-made Zobo drink in March? Or an ocean on Atacama? You are more nourishing and more satisfying. The spring waters of your love nurtures nations. You lose yourself so others can find themselves. Because you are, humanity lives on. Shall I compare you to the sun, moon or stars? You are all three by yourself. Giving life and light, Warming and soothing hearts. You enliven the dreary lives of men And dazzle them with your being You are a simple enigma. Men can’t fathom how you’re soft yet strong, Fiery yet calming. Woman, You’re so many things. In all your appellations; Mother, sister, daughter, wife, lady, friend or lover, Your incredible awesomeness is beyond words!
We All Love God. Yet…
We all love God As is evident In our packed churches On Sundays And all our masjid From Fajr to Isha Five times every day. Yet.. We cheat everything And everyone! Steal from the system Lie to save our arses Enrich ourselves By hurting others Spread so much hate To those different from us Kill, maim and destroy Color me purple But… Isn’t that goal of the exiled one? Isn’t that what makes him evil? How can we explain The vast chasm Between One we say Is the Epitome of holiness And our definitely UNHOLY behavior In almost all spheres Of our lives? Why are we then Wasting our time Doing all that ‘worship’ When we cannot Reflect the light We spend so much time Facing? In the words of Lauryn Hill ‘Check your motives and thoughts.’ We need to check our motives and thoughts. Ramatu Ada Ochekliye 26.04.2017. Image: Usaddress Info Photoshelter Shutterstock Henna Blogspot
H
By Abe Onche Innocence sits on the threshold He sits, at home in the vacant vastness Decadent, twisted into silence By the ravages of a destitute lifetime He cannot raise his eyes for fear Fear of rising to the cold stars of love Fear of rising to the harsh words of safety Fear of rising to fall that much lower Far from the light and the face of God Angels with tattered wings are his company It is they that prompt, they that prod They are the demons in his flesh Scouring trails across his nerves He cannot rise to reach the stars, The lights he once delicately counted Now replaced by the glint of metal Littered across the ground around him. Evidence of heights he tried to soar On chemical wings There is an irony to the needles Desperately threaded with dreams and hallucinations To sew up a naked existence Leaving nothing but a score of wounds To mark their vain efforts
January Song
January Song ( For Ramat on her birthday) 🌻🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌻 Inflowing, the flavours of Capricorn in midnoon Salivating, the assumptions of goat meat grilling on the fire overflowing, the joy of now …the moment of candlelight, confettis and cakes If I could distill every single unit of thought of this day then a sea of songs shall twill from my mind; a pool of merry to slowly sail you through with gifts of time On days as this I want to rent an entire city, plant tulips across its sky pop tequila into space and wreath your name in bright blue bouquets On days as this to laud your name and post streamers into air is a rite we’re wont to do on my tongue, a prayer, a sweet wish I roll like candy to explain the jazz, of this natal excitement there’s a song playing in my head, glossing through my lips, it cues in the movement of hips, the tinkling of cymbals, the wiggling of waists and the pumping of petaled-arms into air …step out R and take the floor, today is yours for feting more than any other day, may you be enveloped with joy beyond compare, may triumph kiss your cheeks and may tranquility touch every inch of your heart. Shittu Fowora 9.1.2017
Chrysalis
Image: Discover Magazine By Abe Onche Think of me again as a new creation As the time of rebirth heralds itself And as I contemplate the vast potentials Of a new year, a new life With each new day we are born again As much as the sun’s face Differs from one hour to the next And perhaps we do not feel it But the shadows of change Are seen best at dawn and dusk Rebirth is as real as we choose We reason, recount, repent, resolve To surpass our heroes, our ideals The student who seeks mastery To be a master of oneself It is because we choose to see our fate That we are able to make our destiny So do not take lightly these moments of rebirth Weigh well the life in your years, recount them While it may seem we merely add numbers To a journey toward the inevitable That number is also a birth: moulded, tainted Like the smoothest pottery or the stained glass
Solitude
Solitude Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air. The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go. They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all. There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a long and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain. – Kenneth Jaro
