BLAZING HOT (ISSUE 7)
HOME IS AN OPEN DOOR by Chisom Okafor
Nobody leaves home
Unless home is the mouth of a shark
Warsan Shire.
We once sauntered into the night
or rather, flew into it
with the bats, like pilgrims advancing by faith
never here, nor there, the way
a bat is half mammalian and half non-mammalian
the end-point was never part of the plan
we simply moved, and the paths moved with us,
leading us home, unfolding like
tents approached from a distance.
One time, we were refugees from Maiduguri,
dashing away from rebels, and from forceful conscription,
willing our fire to propel us
away, like pilgrims, to the welcoming warmth of home.
Another time, and we were in the West,
innocent inhabitants shielding ourselves
from menacing Russian Kalashnikovs of herdsmen
who brandished bullet spitting metals for sticks
and artillery for cattle.
Or the casualties, letting the bullets tear into us
(when we rose in defiance)
Like stones slammed into a lake
Yet another moment, and we were all these and more
More being home, where love is-
a baby-eagle defying odds, to thrive.
Putting up a spirited effort against the forces
that breed hatred, and death. Because home is
where the open door of love is, though it hangs
loosely on its hinges.
Chisom Okafor studied Nutrition and Dietetics at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. His poem came third in the 2016 edition of Nigerian Students Poetry Prize.
***
MONOGRAPH
by Ojo Taiye
there is always someone calling your name softly
at the skin of midnight
home
distant folk songs
vane in the winds
and your heart smokes warm
as tears tumble across
your crusty cheek
suddenly
you see the distance from home
the gurgling of familiar streams
the clarity of sanguineous laughter
the flowers painted brown by the dust of life
thunder in their veins
lightening in their hair
fathers who fought with the earth
mothers who smell of blood
all of them fight for a space in the soil
with their fingers, tongues and breasts
all of them carry fire in their arms to burn
the portrait of an underfed child living in their eyes
Ojo Taiye is a young Nigerian who uses poetry as a handy tool to hide his frustration with the society.
***
a poem eludes me
by Olawale Ibiyemi
I
I am stuck at the surface of my skull
like a miner with a plastic digger
I probe the alabaster box
for her fragrance
but her lips are sealed with the hymen of rebellion
the nose of my pen is bruised,
her head, bashed against my Muse
I did not know that the egg
if thoroughly provoked
will shatter a diamond stone
II
I plod the path of sages
reading the clouds to still the mind
parting the seas to still the tides
that rumble in the veins of all troubadours
I walk, holding my shadow by the ears;
so it does not stray from the path
into the mouth of darkness
I plod the path of sages
searching for a poem
to soothe the neck of Judas
to douse the flames of Sodom:
Ignorance, they say, is the greatest darkness
threatening the redemption
of the I
III
When leaves fall, the mouth of the earth
is wide open to incubate the carcasses
when poems ripen, they explode
splattering the walls of the mind
but when we reach out
to pluck these leaves for our healing
pluck these poems for deliverance
The Tree stands on her toes, raising her shoulders
hiding her boughs in the clouds
-poisoning the rain-
I will plod the path of sages
digging the earth with bare hands:
invoking every dead poem,
sprouting new leaves.
Olawale Ibiyemi is a young poet and student of Accounting at Babcock University, Nigeria. His poems have appeared in the anthology “These words will cure a dead man” by Sprinng Literary Movement, 2016.
What about people from rivers state that wants to join the competition….. And an o level student
I want to join the competition but am from rivers state and am an o level student