Roberta Turkson’s career in poetry started in 2011, as a way to drive the pain off her chest, after failing to fulfil the fondest dream of having her own traditional Ghanaian restaurant in Nashville. “With lots of time on my hands and pain in my heart, I took to writing which turned out to be…
Forget (Arua) Remember (Pakwac)
Forget how the rolling hills stopped rolling and began unfolding into flatlands. You have left the badlands. Forget how the sky opened and left behind skyscrapers and scraped knees bleeding into pavement and how blood paved your way into estrangement. Your scraped skin already belonged to the streets and the wounds flowering on your body…
Nusayba Alareer
You were a witness to a heinous atrocity of war, a crime against humanity Wildflowers in open spaces Wildflowers in closed spaces, in spaces that have been tampered with You lost a husband, your children lost a father, the world lost a poet I sit in my room and write this poem I, too, am…
Rebel Queens
Milky waters crawl down my fingers As I discover layer after layer Of flesh Of tightness Of beauty My garden wets as I gaze at her delicately sculptured folds Her fruit bursts with juices and flavor I snake lower charmed by her feminine aroma Lips plant kisses on petals Beautiful black petals, pink on the…
Peace Be Still
Keyword: Ignite There are times when I could start a riot when I actually want peace Peace be still Peace be even more still for the day is coming Where we shall not long to be united but be one Or at the very least we can hope And maybe this will be our dawn…
If there had been an owl
My son died the death I should have died quietly – he went – in his sleep. On that morning the sun shimmered like it had showered in gold – I would have understood if there had been an owl – two hoots (one for each year he breathed). and no sun…
Her Place
Her place was in a four-walled room called kitchen Broken dishes were the order of the day She had mastered the scents of the various nail breaking dish washing liquids she struggled with every time she tried to scrub the dirt away In this kitchen She was brought down to the level of a dishwasher…
Abigail George
Abigail George is a South-African feminist, poet and writer based in Port Elizabeth. Born in 1979, she is a prolific writer: she has written a novella, several books of poetry and collections of short stories. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the recipient of two South African National Arts Council Writing Grants and of one from the Centre for…
Lip Prayer
Your lips are mine and mine are yours. May my lips forever glorify and honour you. May my lips be truthful to you. May my lips calm your blazing brow and bring healing to your aching muscles. May my lips mop up your tears. May my lips dry the sweat of your toil, from your…
Alright with me
Following the piper, Of smiles and laughter, Acknowledged, once the clutter Packed on your mind falters. By words of truth, Manifestations from Youth, An allegiance to trust in Freedom It’s the chime of love bells, On the highest altar. Link to the Italian version