Untitled By Rachel Msendoo Kaase

Msendoo Rachel Kaase is a young writer from Benue state. She was one of the five lucky winners of the 'A date with poetry' competition.

I grew up slow, she grew up way too fast.
She got the Queen Amina role to play,
And I had enough “Yes my Queen” statements to say.
I tried not being jealous,
Putting my mind on being academically zealous.

She wore make-up and dated guys who did regular press ups.
I had of these none,
I secretly knew I was going to turn up a nun,
But this didn't come to pass
I watch myself turn into a simple, ordinary lass,
While she was a belle dinning with the Upper Class.

I was at her bedside after the operation
I don’t want to call it abortion,
Well I just did, she uprooted the seed.
For some days she was depressed
I wanted her to stay that way but nah after days,
She had her depression suppressed.

Back to her carefree life she went,
Soon she returned home again with a gent
She called him her Heaven-sent.
It was no wonder when they exchanged marriage vows
Sweetly said and received loud “wows!”
Off to Spain they traveled, sending pics to me to marvel.

I soon became an aunt.
This triggered my husband hunt, I returned hurt.
And she was there in my state, I was wondering what she was doing here
Her hands clasped on mine,
Her eyes looked into mine,
And her eyes said to mine, “in this entire world, there is no heart for me like thine.”

The day I would have lost my mother - Jennifer Dafwat.

Note: To download the audio recording of this poem delivered beautifully by the magnificent Jennifer Dafwat... http://picosong.com/2saR

The day I would have lost my mother
Began as all others
Unseeming, uneventful
Except for those prayers whispered
For all I know
For those I love
All so naive about the rest water the day held
But on all it poured
Extinguishing lives
Drenching wills,
softening hearts
Hardening others
This ode too long to tell

The feeling hit me
Like spikes to the heart
As life from blood flowed
Epitomes of costly arrays
Flayed off carcasses
Off beauties and tans
Making all so sweet
So revolting.

The day I would have
Had me saying I haven't
Thought of worn out spirits
Snatched all too soon
In moments faster than batting eyelids
Placed lids over pots we'll never drink off
Eyelids bat
Opening only to the nocturnal
Activities we of this flesh will for now
not partake in
Pain listless
A blankness in my head and heart
I know not what to call.

Days after
The carnage is still a lingering taste
on everything we touch
Everything we open ourselves to
Everywhere we set our feet for
Streets once alive with cat calls
Sellers wooing buyers
Buyers courting sellers
"Wanting to" buyers
Passing by
Biased or prejudiced
From it all
Sprang the pit fall
That pitched all
Against forces that take much…

Standing at this autumnal column
Looking at what lies ahead
Seeing more of what laid past
Brazen streets now ashen
Inactivity
Thoughts,
dead ghosts,
Now living the activities of this city center
Once a place of constant movements
Twice hit with fatal blows
Somewhere in my mind; I try to picture
If men and women
Will give to buying and
Selling of wares
On streets that are
Streets that were?

When I would have lost my mother

Happened one Monday
Somewhere between afternoon and mid-evening
Disrupting midday Pukam of the Mangus
Calling Ngas from her Forri
Jarawas from their Tere
Berom from plates of Gwote
Challa from mouth watery bubal
Tarok from enjoying Amora
As Plateau caved in
Making space for graves
That sounding of the afternoon gong
that tells of doom
Calling all
To a matter to dire
To wait
As we turned to the twist of fate
That called our loved ones to early beds
Beds hard and cold
The harsh reality of mortal beings.

A DATE WITH POETRY

A DATE WITH POETRY VOL 1

COMES UP THIS SATURDAY 7TH MARCH 2015

FEATURING:        Decipher-  JOGAMA award winning Poet

                         Anchorman- Runner up 2012 ALS National Poetry Slam 

                         Grandsun, Rudolph, Leon, DNA and all COAL Ambassadors. 

Also for the first time, four new poets who scale through COAL's online competition shares the stage with COAL Ambassadors.

MUSIC:           Seken

                          Gold 

                          Mfon

 

                   

VENUE: 

Vintage Art Gallery, Jos.

TIME: 3pm

TICKETS: FREE

BE ON TIME

COAL-   PRESERVING LITERATURE

NIGHT EJACULATIONS

The grave silence in this ocean of sheets,

Found me in the belly of them,

Twitches of solitude

Itches of morning

Whispers of dark rays

Covers of night.

While the clock ticks

My hair they pick.

Sagging the bags beneath my eyes

As tears dribble down my spine.

Crunches of misery, wavering of time

Sisters of night, lovers of dark

Grant me this plea

For just, a minute slumber, I, desire.

It is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still no blink.

Names from many tribes and ages given

Sick, insomnia, depression, insanity, illusion, hypnosis

Witcraft, magic, lost, Satanism.

Still, no, sleep,

They are no strangers, not friends

But between the leaves

We fly on a plane quiet and lonely,

I see them, they see me,

We, all, lost in time, lost in us.

It is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still, no, blink

We were never friends nor foes,

Never hate nor love,

We were ourselves,

Finding solace in this void,

They called and I answered

I fall, they wait for my rising

Like a rasin they cut me before my due date

And I find reason on the bench of their aura

I kiss them with dwindling eyes

Yet we never ejaculate in pleasure land

They stare while I count the white cubes above

tearing my eyes wide,

Tearing pages, scribbling words,

Screening visions and watching my nightmare,

For it is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still no blink

We were never friends nor foes,

Never hate nor love,

They were me as I was them

Slowly striding the path to light,

Kissing the past on the lips of today.

Munching possibilities with teeth of uncertainties

They are here again

Striding pass my window,

I see them, they see me

Unlocking my soul

To their seduction

Caressing their tender breasts

As they stroke my mind.

Ecstasy of night,

Sweetness of morning

Illness of Noon,

We were never friends nor foes,

We were little creatures,

Finding our path on the misty desert of our bare lives

It is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still no sleep.

written by Andrew Patience (AP)

DIAPERS OF LOVE

Its 3am in the morning and my waist feels like its empty yet full of needles, Joan is crying again, I look into her eyes and I remember. The 3 weeks I had been as moody as a tortoise and just as slow. Lara my friend jokingly said she thinks I have lost my virginity, oh she had no idea I had lost more than that, although I smiled nervously and told her she was as crazy as the mad woman that always stayed at the junction saying gibberish nonsense.

         

The inception has been tied to a dark prince, Tunji has this dark handsomeness that just tempts you into doing all those things only ladies who have worn white do. It was a rainy night and he could leave my room but I convinced myself that the rain was too heavy and he won't get an okada that stormy night, we both had plans of creating our own Storm right here in my purple abode, "Pearl I cannot sleep here, as soon as the rain stops even if it's by 11pm I will go home."  I laughed and told him I knew he wanted to stay. I prepared indomie and tea as all I wanted to eat that evening were his kisses. NEPA must have known what was up that night because the light was so dull, ‘low current’ as we call it. My girly room suddenly looked like a garden, I felt drunk as I kept thinking if I should make the first move, my mom's stern face kept crawling into my inner eyes and I kicked it to the back of my neck, at least there are no eyes there. I set the Indomie on the reading table, we ate in silence but the night was soon  going to be filled with sounds, I wondered what it was going to be like, 'my first time'. I banished my mom, my dad, my pastors, aunts, Lara, everyone who expected me to know rights from wrong were banished from my thoughts. I have decided, I’m going to embrace all the glides, sucking, moaning and all they ever told me rings a woman's bell.
   

He left the next morning and I could not even look at him, I pretended I was asleep while I kept praying he’d leave my room and life. Fear was the first call I received in the morning and the last person to check if I was tucked into bed at night was old lonely fear. Fear led me to take a pregnancy test, I read almost every website online talking about pregnancy symptoms. I think the sperms are playing around with my eggs already, I calculated my cycle, hallelujah I’m save, I thought as I waited. Then I cursed that day....the nurse looked at me with gossip in her eyes, “how old are you? Stupid girl you are pregnant". I cried my eyes out as I knew I will keep my baby. Grenades explored in my head, it was not easy as friends turned fiends, I disappointed my parents, everyone who had faith in me thought I chose a bad fate, damn I know I chose a bad fate but I made a good decision to keep a life time souvenir that I too have joined the league of persons who knew right but choose left. I’m ready to do right all over again, I insist on success, it has become a must I make it a constant companion.    Now I think, and I’m grateful for the love of Joan, though I was kicked out of my father's house, I landed in a land of cries and diapers, most of all love....

                                                                                           written by Lola Onigbinde

Huge Love – Patience Attah.

Love brought me here,
Love said it all,
Love made me tremble with life,
Love picked me up;
Love caused me pain, 
Love made me hate.

Yes! I remember "Hate"
I said I hated my mother
Mother who like a tender night
breathed pure life in me
who carried that "World" in her
Because, God said so to her.
She sang gay lullabies
Telling me to reach for the sun’s rays
She went down on her smooth knees
Pleading to the creator to grant "me" better days
Better days to win graceful races
She was my pearl, Gold
She was my light, everything
When my troops fell, she brought them up
She made my birthday
A Happy birthday
I was caged in my own world
And she was the "Only"
Only friend, I couldn't replace 
But I regret, inviting anger
To dine and share with me 
Anger made me hate
Anger made me hate her rod
the rod that was to correct me
I never shared, cared nor loved
Even when she faced her ills
ills of yesterday
That led her to die
As if leaving home was not enough
12th of July,2013 was the day
Deep sleep swept her
And 13th of July, my birthday
When the air told me
She hit the rock
Daddy left too
Damn this world is ugly
well, these are my darkest moments.

And here is a tale 
When love picked me up
Making me drink of Femi's love
That made me dream dreams of new birth
I was cured from pain
Never forward to any gain
Because it was like a train
on an endless journey.
Though, I sometimes 
Seat on the fence,
To me, God answered
My mamma's prayer
Prayer that I see better days!

Revelations Within Tara's Eyes

She was 22years old when she was diagnosed with leukemia
She started loosing form
Her hair started falling off but everyday my sister Tara will stand in front on the mirror and admire her baldness. She will smile at the protruding veins on her face and tell me how beautiful they are.
She was not beautiful in my sight but she was beautiful in her sight and I had to begin to see  her like that.
Then on the night of her transition, my sister Tara willed her mirror to me and she said "If you do not remember me for anything, you'd at least remember that I looked into this mirror everyday and called myself beautiful even when I was most un-beautiful" And then I realized that there are so many things that beauty is not.

Beauty is not a pose
It is not that piercing on the nose,
Well painted lips, red  like rose
Beauty is not the colour of your face, it's not a race or a competition of braids and hair lace.

Beauty,
Is more than  the combination of shape or form and size,
Beauty is a light in the heart
It is illumination, that un-doubting sense of possession that gives you the freedom to be you and gives me the freedom to be me.

Beauty is not about how big your breasts are but how much milk of compassion it can carry
Its is not how broad your chest is but how much of humanity it can condone.
Giving hope to this soul and to that soul.

Beauty is not you after the artist has finished the witchcraft he calls makeover on you.
Beauty is you waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror at your sunburn, the lines life gifted you, the bow legs you are not afraid to show, the stunted hair you are not afraid to comb. Defending your smile even when others think it is a crime.

Beauty are the little things that make you Mary or Lizzy or David or even Daisy.
For most of the things we try to change about ourselves are the things that make us who we really are.

So I don't know what you let her call you or what you let him call you or what you let them call you but I call me beautiful.
I am beautiful, not because my face is black or my lips are pink but because each time I stare into the mirror Tara gave to me, I love and accept what I see.

                                                                                           Written By Farida Adamu