Having Mercy #4 by Okuwoga Eyimofe

Dear Mercy,

So, I found out that it was a mere crush – a better sounding name for teenage love infatuation. It wasn’t love at all. I remember being told that love never dies and it’s not jealous. I tried to relate the way I felt to the way my parents felt for each other. For a moment, I thought they expressed their love in ‘old school’. But old’s cool you know…

The way I felt around you – the fact that I always wanted your body to touch mine, I discovered was not love. I would come up with a suitable name for it but at least, I have discovered the name it isn’t.

So, now that you have broken your relationship with Yinka, I know you are expecting me to run into the comfort of your arms as I hoped you would seek comfort in mine. I write to tell you that all emotions for you are used up, now waste and discarded. I wouldn’t want to sound harsh or think you cared, but I want you to know that your plan B is not possible. It would never be.

I have decided to keep my hands clenched, mind open, heart locked till I find wedlock.

Mine patiently,


Domestic Violence by Wale Ibiyemi

Posted as received.


Mother is limping; a guerdon

Of her encounter with Bash Ali,

Our father; the embattled one.

All lizards lie on their stomachs;

We don’t know which one

Has stomachache.

We are men, we are strong

Let us beat our wives to prove it!

Mon amour, my heartbeat

How dare you talk to me that way?

We are men, we are strong

And we will beat our wives to prove it!

I am the head of the house,

Jesus has given me authority

Over my house.

Wife, you must obey my every word,

Wife, you must satisfy my every want.

We are men, we are strong

And we will beat our wives to prove it!

My fingers itch, I

Will scratch it with the bone of my bone.

I am hungry, I

Will eat the flesh of my flesh.

The lie aeonian:

“…And so they lived happily ever after”

Epilouge it is:


your eyes are swollen

What happened after honeymoon?

Has the monster been awoken

The one who guised himself a prince?

Beauty has kissed the Beast

Again, but turn he will not ‘nto

A prince:

He will turn into The Hulk

And pummel his wife to death.


Olawale Ibiyemi is a student of Babcock University, a young poet, aspiring author and an accountant



HAVING MERCY #1 by Okuwoga Eyimofe

Dear Mercy,

I am resting my head on my pillow, crossing my legs and my hands are clenched; seeking comfort from the sight of the white ceiling. Its looking directly at me, this isn’t comforting but I am starting to remember everything. Remembering my shivering hands while I typed what I wasn’t man enough to say – that I had a crush on you.

I did not know what to expect from you yet I was disappointed your reply was ‘wow’. It would have been so fast, but I expected you to have told me you felt the same way about me and that you wanted to be my girlfriend. I tried to console myself, with fantasies of you feeling the same way but too whelmed to express yourself.

I remember that night we sat together at that show; how I tried to clasp my hands to yours and how I tried to make sure there was no space left between us. You seemed even more distant when my left arm choked your right arm of any space. Then, I remember when you told me you had a boyfriend – Yinka; the confusion in my eyes; how I betrayed myself by falling in love with a ‘taken’ girl and was about to betray a friend because I would not stop till I had you.

Then, I remember trying to walk you to your hall (that’s a lie); you walked me to mine. When I was about to leave you, I wanted to hug you, I wanted to kill space completely, to wrap my hands around you in a way that it almost made me feel horny happy (what’s the difference anyway). But I didn’t, and now I regret every moment afterwards; this emptiness I feel could have been filled by your close touch our close touch.

I think I am beginning to suffer from my evil past; the past has drawn a battle line and has drawn out its sword in preparation for battle. This feels like banter. I do not feel whole anymore, like I have been cut out and what remains is the emptiness and outline of my love for you.

Your admirer,

THE WATER FROM THE FIRMAMENT by Nwachukwu Olusegun Nwachukwu

Who has angered the heavens

That they should expectorate vehemently upon us?

Who has pinched off the skin of the sky

That it should bleed cats and dogs?

The garment of the welkin

Drains its water, as it is squeezed mercilessly,

Upon us;

The tears of the clouds

Poke our flesh like slanting swords,

Gluing our robes to our skins.

Who has angered the heavens

That they should expectorate vehemently upon us?

Who has pinched off the skin of the sky?

For its blood shall not clot anytime soon;

It will flood and forcefully flow away

Life and lifeless things…

This garment of the welkin

Drains its water – that turns our aluminum sheets to Bata

Upon us,

And we dance to its rhythm:

Cold and cough-related conditions.

*Batá – a double-headed drum shaped like an hourglass with one cone larger than the other. The percussion instrument is used primarily by the Yoruba tribe.

Nwachukwu Olusegun Nwachukwu, 17, is a Nigerian gospel writer whose works border around God, nature and amenities. His works have been published in Nigerian NewsDirect newspapers, Kalamu Review Magazine, and so on. Read his blog today – reformednation.blogspot.com.ng.

DISCORD IN EDEN by Osibote Andrew

This poem was first published on poet’s blog


Parents they say
Are meant to train up their kids
In the way that is just,
Expose them to the world
While shielding them from the evil within-

The father, the pillar of the home
The mother, the keeper of the home

Baba ni jigi
Baba has crumbled
And the opa of Orunmila stolen;
What then holds the family together?

Iya ni wura
Her golden eyes opened to the sins of the father
Baba’s eyes opened to the faults of the mother
As their love finite fades away-

They bicker like the Keeper and Hera
who in the beginning of time warred
until love drifted away from them
leaving a void in their hearts;
a veiling of their souls that kept them apart.

Now Father is sealed away (in the void)
To be afflicted by his sins
And the mother no longer able
To stomach the sight of her children-
for they remind her of Father!

So the children driven to rebuild
Cause a tear in the veil
Between both worlds
To release their father

And to make whole
that which is broken.

Osibote Andrew O. is a 300 level Accounting student in Babcock University, a lover of  poetry. He can be reached on andrewosibote@gmail.com and runs the blog poecticmotives.blogspot.com


You! Who whispers soft words to me at night and leaves me in the morning

You! Who I pay to bath

You! Who makes me clap to your performance

You! Who I live to kill

You! Who kills to live

You have the best way of taking from me

You have the worst way of impacting me

So tiny, yet a peck from you is all it takes

So tiny, yet your impact to life is enormous

So tiny, yet I cage myself from you in nets

So tiny, yet nations wage war against you

The party is set….

Ground pools, standing water

Catch basins, clogged gutter

Rain barrels, neglected ditches

Unattended bird-feeders, organic waste

Dinner is served….

A warm blooded toddler,

An ignorant mother,

An illiterate father,

An educated human who isn’t educated enough….


KORMBAT is a spoken-word artiste; refers to himself as a misfit and God lover. He lives in Lagos and can be reached on instagram, snapchat and facebook.