JENNIE IFEATU

Hurricane after hurricane Of diverse names came I had stuck my face in the fire Yet it was not burnt Ice packs laid on my breasts Yet blood flowed through them This is not for the swift Or those with biceps so strong This is for you who will stoop to pick pebbles along Sit by the fire Listen to this tale Of how I  found the fine things I craved Eyes so white Dotted by a pair of black pupils Little wonder she outshone a hundred other pupils Her possession became my delight Milk teeth as white as snow A smile that made an abyss glow Oh! That she 'd remain so Darwin's theory won't let her do so Your stare has broken my wall of defence My limbs lose strength but my cardiac races fast Innocence is a law executioner Capturing even the fiercest Wear it on my head like a crown There's a tiny pocket on my left rib cage Tuck in this memory in my heart A heart fluttered by butterflies Litted up by a million fireflies All this I found in a to

The dark sky is a coy mistress too shy to indulge herself in the embrace of her lover. I guess its a thing about masculinity,the sun subtly comes from the east without her knowledge and draws her into his embrace. They say two hearts beat as one perhaps that is what happens when we have the ash coloured sky  break into an orange coloured sky at dawn. Earlier, the atmosphere had been quiet with only the coarse voice of the bus conductor searing through the peaceful air  "Hold ya change!" He repeated it countless times each time, a passenger hopped into the bus like an incantation that a diviner was meant to recite or else he 'd be made mad by his gods. There is a guy with white earphones stuffed in his ears, he nods his head to the play of his music like he was excited but his face looked worn out like he had worked all through the weekend. This is Lagos, it wears even the strongest out. I am seated between two men. One is dressed in a black suit and the other

Meeting our Showcase Thursday personality for today will enable you figure out that we don't need kisses to wake sleeping beauties anymore. Frank Assisi says " He who works with his hands is a labourer. He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman. He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist." Mary Ochuwa is a graduate of Public Health from the Federal University of Technology Owerri who has found love in the arms of bead making. She is the Creative hand behind Ochy beads and creations . Makers of bead jewels, beaded flower vases, fabric embellishment, fancy bridal hand fans and tissue boxes. " I learnt Ankara craft during the ASUU (Academic Staff Union of Universities) strike period. I proceeded to learn beading in the year 2014 during my six months industrial training while I was a student. I also do embellishment on fabric" She reveals. "The fashion industryis a dynamic one. My major challe

Some cup the world in their hands With ease it is done Gape, drool and marvel Yet it will drip like a dripping scoop of water The world is too much for us. Laughter that cracks the ribs Fear that has your laps trickling with pee Pressure that burrows you into the ground The world is too much for us Of beasts in human skin Of sanity overhauled by insanity Lapped up like milk drunk by a kitten A remnant of intermittent lucidity Perhaps the world is too much for us How is it that she travels circularly A drunken lady walking in a zig-zag manner Every stare at your amoebic form and supposing it as straight Reveals you as an unrepentant nonagon Have you heard about the man dressed in garments the colour of crimson? Who gives too much at advent season Only he gives out too much Why do you give your children too much to munch?