My Lover Turns Into A Witch At Night

My Lover Turns Into A Witch At Night

By Oppong Clifford Benjamin
I was as sure as faith and dance
as darkness and its absence
and as heaven and humans-
I had no doubt that God was here
And that God was there too;
In sins, He was here and
in the holiest of holies, He was there.
It was a dark room under a dark rainy sky
with the stars hidden behind frowning clouds
The air carried everything including our doubts
on its carelessly chaotic cold paths to nowhere
It was the sound of percussion instrument playing
Playing soft hymns to the atmosphere unseen
On the floor, seated we were:
Legs crossed. Right on left leg
right palm in left.
A black candle burned its wax away
to illuminate our dark life someways
Kiky had mastered her craft.
She was in a black cassock
She looked ahead of my head
And closed her eyes again softly.
She didn’t want to breathe
She didn’t want to call my name
I watched her dance to the heavens;
Head bent to the feet,
Her hips curved around the dark,
Hands thrown to the near west
Heartbeats in accordance with every bit
of nature. It was with the rains on the roof.
I watched her turn into air and
back to a shadow on the wall
I watched her move back and forth
between the present world and trance
She danced her glory off,
She divined our future
And I looked on with anxious surprise.
And my lover finally became everything
I couldn’t have been,
everything I had only dreamt of;
The room walls
The moment
The air
The candle
The dark
And God
And Kiky was God
And God was Kiky
And God was us.
She opened her eyes abruptly and
spoke to the silence and it broke
As above so below, she said and smiled.

By Kweku Atta Crayon ( Oppong Clifford Benjamin)

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Copyright © Oppong Clifford Benjamin
Written By: Oppong Clifford Benjamin

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Oppong Clifford Benjamin is Founder President at Builders of the African Dream. To know more, the link for the same is

Disclaimer: The picture used herein is submitted by the author and taken from the Internet. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.



By: Adesoro Segun Emmanuel, Ojo Francis & Babalola Adeola

The naked wind sings lullaby
Putting earth at comfort rest
The pleasure riches can not buy
Freely given from globe’s breast.

The dancing strings from the sky.
With birds to clear the way.
The trees bend and sway.
Hoping the tears of t’monster in the skies.

In the cold of the night,
You wrapped us in your bosom.
In the hot sun, fanned us under Odan
Still at night, you shined your touch that we stumble not.

Àse et. De Thinker, Rev. T-N-T
© 2016.


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Copyright © Adesoro Segun ProofSegz

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Adesoro Segun’s facebook page at

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Beyond a distant Horizon

Beyond a distant Horizon

[Written for Z]

The sun is risen above the summit of a mountain- a Dwala-
Beaming, chasing darkness away;
Rejuvenating the veld as the dew shimmers,
Pasture assumes its deep brown lustre
As if trying to blend with the golden sun’s rays;
The Dwala – where it had momentarily perched-
Has slowly set it free for its westerly journey

My Tropical Savannah is a beauty:
Deep brown pasture in summer, clustered bushes and umbrella trees
Irregular footpaths run across its plains,
I assume one of them leads to you,
But as I trace them, they shy away at a distant horizon,
As if the sky is eating them up
The sun brings a light breeze mid-flight,
It blows softly on my quill,
Making a melody with the fur;
Whistling a song on the brim of my inkwell

On one footpath, I spot two love birds coming from the well,
The damsel is balancing an earthen calabash on her head;
My lips crease into a marvel-smile at their chatter and carefree laughter
I am surprised at myself for sharing their moment of bliss,
But then, it is always easy to share happiness.

Bliss is…abstract,
As the beauty and radiance of our sun

But the burden of sadness is…concrete,
Something I can share with you,
Only after I trace these footpaths beyond the horizon

The dying sun perches on a faraway ridge like an alter offering
Its deep brown rays permeate the foliage.
By and by, colours fade away with darkness.

The veld now looks old and beaten, almost gothic,
The sun is gone, leaving a trace of a blue-brown spectrum;
I hope it has come to you my dear,
With the same happiness it brings me

Darkness sets in.

Though my sentiments are hurt at the thought of having to close my inkwell,
I love the sweet calmness reigning in harmony with the sound of nocturnals,
Besides, seeing another beautiful sunrise is enough consolation.

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Copyright © Victor Gordon

Victor Gordon Musara (Vic Tor Jacob) is on facebook at:

Disclaimer: The images used herein are taken from the Internet and submitted by the author. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

The Black Crow Is Cawing

The Black Crow Is Cawing

The black crow is cawing,
Cawing and cawing
Perched on a pole
At dawn-break,
Cawing repeatedly
Perched on a pole
In the muddy courtyard
Of the country home,
Eyeing and ogling,
Cawing and cawing
To lift
A bread crumb
From the aluminum bowl
Of a country child
Already crying for food,
Morning-time breakfast
As getting late.

The crow perched on a pole
Cawing and cawing
And eyeing
And ogling,
Cawing repeatedly,
Sharpening the beaks
As for to lift
A bread crumb
From the aluminum bowl
Of the crying village child,
The black crow so
Sly and cleverly
Cawing for.
If the stale food is available.

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Copyright © Bijay Kant Dubey

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Wait! Wait!

Wait! Wait!

Laugh! Laugh!
Upon the despair
of mine.
Giggle! Giggle!
Near the hovel
of mine.
Revenge! Revenge
I will take, let
The days come.
Mute! Mute!
Today i am to
Rumble! Rumble!
I will, let the
clock favour.
Pride! Pride!
Kings you today
for sure.
Shatter! Shatter!
It will when my
turn will come.
Crying! Crying!
I am with non-chalance
of you.
Cry! Cry!
You have to
Let my triumphs

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Copyright © Mir Sajad (Rj Sajjad)

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