Month: October 2012

Dancing in the black tempest,
With a wild heart I’ll kiss you.
Soaking every drop of rain,
A strong little love will brew.

With the storm thundering away,
I’ll hold you tightly in my arms.
With the clouds laughing away,
I’ll make your world full of charms.

A striking thunderstorm fierce,
And the wind blowing in its full might.
Will make you feel my love for you,
As I’ll be clutching you so tight.

I’ll hold your hand giving assurance,
Of forever love and togetherness.
You’ll look into my eyes with a hope,
And a life-long faith you’ll get with no stress.

Seeking solace you’ll stay back with me,
You’ll know there’s no world without us.
I’ll give you the world’s best feeling,
With a naughty mess and a little fuss.

A lightning brighter than the sun,
Will strike us down from dust to dust.
Yet our love will remain…

Let my bones be better traveled after flesh has attended

and hindered.

Let them rattle on a string around the neck of creatures,

bold and roaming,

with beast hair, polished stones and a herbaceous plait;

charms healing.

Let my ribs protrude at a jaunty angle from plains, barren

and desiccated;

let them, though broken and hollowed, pick sonatas from hot

meandering winds

and with stealth and over-the-shoulder looks let the locals

gather to listen.

Let my femur be a gnaw bone for a she-wolf full bellied

and contented;

let her trot her bouncing-rear gait, muzzle lowered, wary

eyes intent,

to her suckling pups to share; accepting yelp-thanks with

long tongue caresses.

Let my skull be a prop held and caressed by sweaty hands

by those possessed;

let them hold my diminished, polished visage and declare,

“Alas, poor poet..”

and recite true the words of those aiming to discern order

from disorder.

Let…

there is love
we cross oceans or continents
to meet, finally

& love we stumble over
sleeping in doorways
comfortable, familiar

the magic in it is not so much
where it is found, or how
but where we let it lead

& wherever that is
i want to go there with you

It is a long time already since the Biafran War (1967-1970) to write a memoir, and it makes me wonder how affective Chinua Achebe’s narrative in The Guardian is to his audience. Achebe’s new book, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra appears to have reopened old wounds and resulted in widespread debate, whether in op-ed columns, on blogs or on social media.

Morning, guys.  As you noticed, Zoe, myself, and Noel have started writing poetry about child marriage (in particular, child brides).  I am hoping that there are others of you who have something to say poetically on this issue that you could then link back here, so I could forward them on to Dr. Adebayo Fayoyin to help commemorate the day.

Here is some background information for you (courtesy of Dr. Fayoyin):

Globally, more than one in three young women aged 20-24 years were first married before they reached age 18. One third of them entered into marriage before they turned 15.  Child marriage results in early and unwanted pregnancies, posing life-threatening risks for girls.In developing countries, 90 per cent of births to adolescents aged 15-19 are to married girls, and pregnancy-related complications are the leading cause of death for girls in this age group.

Girls with low levels…

Zoe L. Daniels