The bright crimson lipstick abandoned my mother’s mouth when I was nine. All the extra colours and textures that adorned her lustrous mahogany skin departed like harmattan does in March.
Mindfulness beckons, it is time for laundry sunshine threatens to leave prematurely the petulant pageant queen who puts them down to keep them keen
old generators wail like a thousand new-borns the noise will trail neat rows of houses outside
The unpatterned rhythm of floating words and the clock ticking in stillness
Fluffy for the flames Poised to be pierced
One of the greats is dead A restless siesta and the faint taste of lead Let’s weep ensuite for another man we never knew Obstinate questions for every candle we ever blew We hope to seize headlines too What do we do? What do we do?
Je tisse entre les discussions superficiel Sa ex-copine qui etait fou La bizzare boîte de nuit Le fille qui pense qu’elle-meme est une mannequin Toutes les histiores drole et ridicule Toute les verres bu et vide Tes doigts attends pour les miennes Mon Coeur attend sentir quelque chose plus que amitié Mais rien, mon cher… Continue reading POETRY| On Bavarde
Check out my short story ‘Till the Sun Rose’ here http://www.bellanaija.com/2013/09/03/bn-prose-till-the-sun-rose-by-saratu-danjuma/ and let me know what you think.
I worry that my fingers’ brazen lust to dive into your hair may unhinge itself and douse our friendship in a wet windy day, never frozen, forget heat, just a wet windy discomfort permeating the calm sweet unlabelled pace of the now I know not of a way to quell my curiosity pertaining to… Continue reading POETRY| Choreography of chance
I hate the way she says ‘its cool’ when I kill her plans Again I know she’s in love Her efforts have risen like lark song Like Rachmaninoff’s chords She wants more, accepts less Docile, Requestless Desperate princess gives her love away Like Styrofoam cups at the soup kitchen Her love is freer than… Continue reading POETRY| Forever Phobia