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THE SUN WILL RISE AGAIN by Jamiu Ahmed

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THE SUN WILL RISE AGAIN (An African child III) 
I am that little brittle seed of hope,  Growing up by the side of the road, Amidst the parasites & weeds of life, Feast upon by the western cockerel, Like the breakfast of a cereal meal.
I'm just the nectar of a blooming flower, Sucked till it becomes shrunken & bitter  Like the viscid fluid from a gall bladder , By the gripple butterflies & greedy bees,  Yet, I resist, till I become a fruitful tree. 

I'm the loving mother of myriad children, Whose only blanket has been ripped off, By the rage of a turbulent thunderstorm, Look at my children falling off my back, As my breast milk turned to a sour lime, Still, I will live to see another day again.
I'm that sun casted into a pale moonlight, Buried deep beneath the gloomy clouds, By the ferocious fingers as the night falls, Tomorrow, the sun will rise again from east.
©®  JA³

ANGELIC DEMON by Jamiu Ahmed

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ANGELIC DEMON
The society has become an hydra, multi-faced. Mortals now exhibit  paradoxical identity. 
The firmament is now a universal mirror, Reflecting contradictory images at dawn.
I peeped, I saw an extended metaphor  of different figures, misrepresented like;
— Ancient devil donning Jesus new garment, — Ailment physicians with infectious hands, — Aid hands now littered with thorny trees  — Builders gathering loose sand as castle, — Gatekeepers aiding & abetting sons of gun. — Hatchers consuming the public eggs, — Harbingers with devoid evangelism, — Market women pregnant of shadows, — Peppery winds from the mouth of kins — Parasitic parent housing adopted children, — Pen instructors with stone-dead heads, — Planters planting poisonous parasols, — Reservoirs spewing through the loopholes, — soul saviour serving sour salmons.
Home is now an art gallery veiled by cobwebs, But our brooms are too short to dust them off. 
So how do we cleanse a dirty soap?
For mortals now exhibit both angel &…

A REVIEW OF "HOLDING RIVERS" by Jamiu Ahmed

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A REVIEW OF “HOLDING RIVERS” (The Birth of a metaphorical god) Poetry is undoubtedly known for its language quality and artistic value which involves a lot of mental intuition and sound reasoning, which could be traced back to 15th and 16th century which are the renaissance era. It's widely known for its imaginative comparison that's expressed via simile, metaphor or allegory and its evocative power which may leads emotional purgation. The evolvement of poetry and metaphor over the years made the creative thinkers and great minds set standard paradigm for artistic language and poetic aestheticism, Which are what distinguished a “Poetry” from other of forms literature. Some modern scholars refuted obscurantism and proposed that there shouldn't be a distinct language set aside for poetry because intricacy and ambiguity are not what really makes good poetry but rather a vivid description and concrete imagery which must appeal to all physical senses. The concern of a Poet is to br…

HOLDING RIVER by Jamiu Ahmed Ahmed

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HOLDING RIVER (Of things that become part of us)
This is how I woke up, To find myself amidst drowning sea, dripped my head inside it, the water ran  through my nose, I gasped for breath but my mouth became a chute & the  water roared down it. It tasted like me & that's how I know I have melted into it.
This is how I woke up To find myself amidst violent winds, raging wild like a thunderstorm, heavy enough to fold the world in between its tempestuous arms, I murdered my ego & buried myself in the heart of the earth, to let it pass, for me to live for another day.
This is how I woke up, To find myself amidst dreadful forest, dark & silent as a waiting grave, where the dead go, to cry for their unspent life, I met my shadow, he told me to write my  existence Into an immortal poem & sealed It at the bark of the ancient baobab tree.
This how I woke up To find myself amidst this thorny world, Where I learn to feign my smile, as myriad needles keep piercing into my …

RISE FROM THE ASHES OF DEFEAT by Jamiu Ahmed

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RISE FROM THE ASHES OF DEFEAT (An African child II)
I am the water lettuce, Floating on the surface  of water, blown from north, south, east to west, By the heavy winds of life.
I am the silver-coated coin, Tossed up & down Into the sky, By brute fingers and tyrant rulers.
I am the giant egg of a dragon, With shell so tough like a ligament, Smashed on the face of the rock, By the inevitable burdens of life.
I am that innocent African child, Stricken with unknown bullets,  By ghost fighters In a gory battle, Left for vultures to feast on my body, Heavy feet stamped upon the bones, Now crushed back into grains of hope.
Yes, I'm bruised but not broken.
I am that little phoenix, Set on fire by callous hands, Now watch me burn into fine gold & rise from the ashes of defeat.
©® Jamiu Ahmed  Image from google.

MY LOVE IS A DEEP SEA by Jamiu Ahmed

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MY LOVE IS A DEEP SEA
In between space and time,  Heaven stood still, with its wide eyes opened,  watching the earth in solemn wishes, waiting & waiting for the ample rain that never comes.
As time rode past on a white horse, she knelt  down by the sea shore, supplicating all day, Stargazing all night, till the grey moon melts into the dark sky, like ice floe exposed to sun.
The dawn breaks the winter-blooming rose, Carrying ebullient winds, howling like a baby. "Moses-mother" has dropped him again, into  the angered sea with clasp of sinking waves.
"May the wind sail you through", she melted into the sea, the wind became a birchbark, seafaring him to the unknown. The samaritan at the coast picked him up, the misty sky roared & thundered.
There came the sharp-arrow-lines of a bloody rain, piercing the eyes of the thirsty earth, she took him to the alcove behind the coast, where bodies are  frozen alive like the boomerang nebula in centaur.
Icy hands became…

AN AFRICAN CHILD by Jamiu Ahmed

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AN AFRICAN CHILD
I'm the lost historical fact, Written in an unknown book,  Kept in an ancient library, veiled by dust & cobwebs, left unread.
My mother is the beautiful virgin with a bankrupted hymen, like the tainted glory of a crispy white cloth with red blood splashed all over it.
I'm the starved tyke of a pecunious father,  whose  pocket  is  filled with Unspent cowries crying to be fagged till  they  finally  decay in his captive.
I'm the cracked voice from a frustrated  lip, singing song of sorrow in solitude like an homeless orphan left alone to be bruised & smashed by life, yet unbroken.
©® Jamiu Ahmed


BLIND, DEAF & DUMB IN LOVE by Jamiu Ahmed

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BLIND, DEAF & DUMB IN LOVE
Under the dusky moon, he sat in the dark; gazing at the ghost cloud, gloomy or starless?, unknown. Days, nights are alike, as if trapped in a black hole,  where sight is lost to darkness,  with eyes widely opened,  & everything just appears to be nothing.
She never hear  the howl of the wind in  the forest, nor the yawl  of the  starved  coyote in  the desert, Or the roar of water passing through  a chute, only mope  around  with  broken  tongue, says  nothing like a dumbbell; sentenced to hushed confinement.
Beneath the  baobab tree, still he  sat singing song of solitude, as the wind blows &  the sands of time drip slowly into oblivion, she passed by everynight to drop bread fruits & water, left without a word but a consoling silence. ”May the  lord  bless this hand".
Days after days, how time flies rapidly like a swift with the wings of moment into faded memories, & Night never pass without dropping the life -- saver. "Who i…

“DEAD-CORN-TREE” IN THE BELLY OF THE WILD by Jamiu Ahmed

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“DEAD-CORN-TREE” IN THE BELLY OF THE WILD
A day in Yankari is the pages of unopened books//  A life to live yet unspent // Probably the dream of a  desert forest //  The way every tillager would expect  harvest in the middle of the summer without rainfall.
I watched the green weeds / growing into yellow lilies //  Like the sky // switching colours in between day & night //   Puzzled I got // by the chameleonic nature of the forest//  that keeps changing constantly at the blink of an eye.
Weeds finally grown into giant grasses & cultivars genetically matured to be stoical trees // After surviving the northern  parching sun with razor rays // sharp enough to tear bodies  apart // & time slowly buried the disintegrated fallen species.
Could the wilds be the pests & predators? // Probably they feasted  on the virgin forest bit by bit // farming days slackened & outdated into mismanaged seasons // greedy birds sucking unripe fruits // Bush rat eating the roots of the t…

CHEMO-POETRY by Jamiu Ahmed

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CHEMO-POETRY
  HCl(aq) + NaOH(aq) → NaCl(aq) + H2O
        Anike,        The chemistry of our love          Is like acid and base reaction,             We naturally neutralise                 And chemically                Balance each other.
©®  Jamiu Ahmed

DEVIL'S PRAYER II by Jamiu Ahmed

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DEVIL'S PRAYER II
                Anike,                If your  love               is a beautiful               sin, I'm  ready                 to  die as  an                 unrepentant                     sinner. 
©®  Jamiu Ahmed

WITHERED ROSES FOR MY GHOST LOVER by Jamiu Ahmed

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WITHERED ROSES FOR MY GHOST LOVER 
Tell me how to name my lover,  Whose body is the burning sand From a blasting fiery desert,  Whose heart is the molten lava  that erupted beneath the crust.
Tell me what to call my lover, Whose love is like walking on a stone from a blazing fire, A minute with you is a year in hell,  Do I need to burn myself to love you?.
You said you love me, But your love is a scorching sun, that melt my heart like snowflakes,  Slowly my tears drizzle with me, to form a still water flowing to no where.
Teach me how to love my lover, Whose fingers are thorny trees  with embedded arsenic acid, That caress my skin when darkness  wears the tender soul of the night. 
You told me to run after the horizon Like chasing the shadow of tomorrow, Told me to fly & catch the stars for you, Yet you weigh me down like a bad news, Should I grow wings for you to love me? 
Since your love is a mirage,  I watched you die in my eyes  like the flashes of rainbow colors, Silently bu…

BLOOD-DRAPED CRESCENT MOON by Jamiu Ahmed

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BLOOD-DRAPED CRESCENT MOON  (For crescent blood cells)
Whose fault is the bloody tears  dripping from the face of the sky, Is it the blear eyed seed cultivator?, Or the misty eyed mother-earth?, Or the innocent harvested fruit?.
When life begins on a dark horizon, Like the birth of a starlight at night, With a blood draped crescent moon, To live with pangs on a cracked sky, In cloudy fumes of blood clotted days.
Every sunrise comes a new scrutiny, Between the test of living life & death, On the physician unsure "if & or" table, As wobbled feet parade lab corridor, Combing for the real colour of blood.
The circumambulate of tired caregiver, Like  the pell-mell run of the ewe of a lost lamb, Moping with the pills prescription list, As wallet emptied into a basket pocket, Yet the ensuant is a futile desert land.
Whose fault is the crescent blood patrimony?, Is it the fate emblem in crescent on the dark sky?, The blear eyed seed cultivator or the innocent fruit?, Or th…

THINGS BREAK APART TO FALL TOGETHER by Jamiu Ahmed

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THINGS BREAK APART TO FALL TOGETHER 
The world is only for the encyclopedic heads they said, but wisdom is the foresight in a blind world, where muscular arms search for the known  meaning, can the heads trail the freedom path alone?. 
Things may sometime break apart to fall together,  Like the  hyperbolic  curve legs of a rickety man, Marching on together in the same separate ways, To reach the same destination at the nick of time. 
How do we build the great Rome without a home?, For home is the concrete slab, the pillars that hold the skyscrapper stand upon,  the heart is the home, Where everyone should dwell without tearing others.
How do we stop this flowing tears of a red-eyed mother?, Whose jaw is the confluence town where salty waters meet without touching each other to flow separately apart, Can we just become one river to water this motherland?
The motherland is now the burning lines of a sad poem, Set ablaze in the forest by the brute fingers of a brother. When will we star…