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[POEM] The Pondering By Uzezi Ologe

[POEM] The Pondering by Uzezi Ologe

Who can tell why the tide flows Or where the wind blows Who knows how the grass grows Or what worries wrinkles the baboon’s brow Who can tell what catch The fisherman’s net cast Or the wish of the whip Put to eat the slave’s skin in stripes Who can tell the reason of the palm Why its wounds offer wine And its ash invokes purity   ALSO READ: Global Best Practice by Uzezi Ologe   Man’s head worries crown…

[POEM] Doom Dance By Uzezi Ologe

[POEM] Doom Dance by Uzezi Ologe

The mistakes of our past Forever before us Too rigidly embossed On the fabrics of our lives To be made dim By the mere passing of time   Our brethren On the whim of the moment Strike a sour tune To which we must dance For their fingers coil around our balls   The tune to which we dance Once was euphoria in our ears To which our feet carried us With the swift agility Of a reckless masquerade  …

[POEM] Global Best Practice By Uzezi Ologe

[POEM] Global Best Practice by Uzezi Ologe

Come! Come and vote Democracy is the new way Be not deformed but take note Representation has come to stay   Come! Come out and play Your civic role. For to pray Has its place but you must today Suffer the ballot to have your way   Come! Come out and press Your fingers against this crest Heed not the lure of the rest They offer naught but stress And stay till every vote cast Is counted to the very…

SHORT STORY: The Hooves That Bring Chaos, By Uzezi Ologe

SHORT STORY: The Hooves that Bring Chaos, by Uzezi Ologe

It was afternoon when they came in a large cloud of dust swirling to the rumbling of unfeeling engines. In frenzied disarray, the market was left bereft of business and in haste women herded their children to safety like grazing animals. The men with their machetes and hunting guns confronted the settling cloud of dust and wailing went up like a tidal wave. As we hurdled deep in the bushes, Mother clutched me to her bosom. I could hear her…

“Where The Children Play” By Uzezi Ologe

“Where the Children Play” by Uzezi Ologe

Hearts! Black and beating Yet emptied of precious things That go to make heaven on earth Inebriated on a brew More committed to purpose than earth’s matriarch bacterium Gripped by a disease banishing sense and sanity And sentiments reign over mind with a fevered grip. So what if we were born At the foot of the Baobab or the Iroko Or raised under the shade of the Udala And the Oil Palm. Do not the children tell tales Under eyes…