THE NIGHT BOAT If anyone asks, I will say it is not an adventure Setting a boat in an evening tide, But on a misty morning With agile waves With no clear figure What the day holds in her folded hands is This is to say that, It's better to travel at night than in the day Because, that was how my grandmother was taken ashore And she didn't return And when I will visit the Island in the future, I pray that I row in a night boat too Without our soul sitting in the dock, a leg in, a leg out For that costs twice To put both legs to sea at once.
Poetry from Aisha MLabo
BLUSHING BRIDE By Aisha MLabo She is like a star to the world Darling to all center of attraction The prettiest piece of flesh Cynosure of all eyes Glowing in her cocktail outfit Her veil falls soft over her curly hair And her skin is a wintry cream With her velvet high heels Adorned with hearts walkable and pretty Holding amaryllis in her hands That brings her splendid beauty She have a euphonious voice Oh black beautiful blushing bride! After the twenty four hours period, she was getting hitched. Short Bio Aisha MLabo writes from Katsina state and she is currently studying at Umaru Musa Yar'adua University,Katsina.
Poetry from Muhammed Sinan
IN-SIGHT The tiny virus locked her on a smelly hospital bed Alone as deserted in sand dunes No one to talk to and take care of I saw her screaming with pain and losing her mind A mother of two smart offsprings Sometimes she laid like the dead The ventilator looks like a new organ Nurses in astronaut dress trying their best to save her life I can sense my heart weeping On the plight of that lonely grandma
Collaboration between artist Thomas Fink and poet Mark Young
from 100 Titles from Tom Beckett:
#84: Whose Skin Might This Be?
To be comfortable in your own skin is the beginning of strength.
Charles Handy
Alcohol acts as a sedative. Hormones
die down, dopamine starts to fire. I am
more relaxed, sorting out in my mind
the more meaningful aspects of my life
by writing down notes about them even
though I do not process language by an
analysis of its grammatical categories.
Our personalities, the environments
that nurture us, make us who we are.
Character has an inherently moral cast.
That an assassin has their own moral
code is something few people talk about.
To be comfortable in someone else’s
skin is the beginning of compassion.
#85: Scanning Barcodes
starts a new life of piety & righteousness
can put a child in serious danger of injury or unnecessary medical care
sometimes makes an individual decide to perpetrate a sexual crime on another person
makes some people say they feel exhausted & sad after doing it
makes other people turn to pornography to self soothe their anxiety or depression
is generally associated in the Western world with Right-wing populism
can cause your body to release a number of hormones
may cause inflammation of the pancreas
is a pejorative label used to discriminate against “new religious movements”
helps dogs to develop patience
causes your tyres to wear down more quickly
kills more than 480,000 people in the U.S. each year
will not lead to blindness
Note: The poem ‘Scanning Barcodes’ has appeared previously in Scud. Our thanks for permission to include it here.
Poetry from Uduak Wisdom Ezekiel
THE SOLITUDE OF MAN In this Market, Man stands alone, like a flower among thorns Not until he tips the merchant Like a seller, waves an old customer to a seat. Then, he becomes a camouflaged chameleon. In this Market, Man is desperate to announce himself Like a child, through pained cries. Over time, he registers his presence with goosebumps amidst cries. In this market, Man stands alone When through the crowd, he walks like the wind. Unaccompanied. Unseen. Unheard. Untouched. But felt. In this market, Man stands alone When the seats once warmed by his presence, Like the heat of the sun, are left cold, when he sets like the sun. In this market, Man stands alone When his name is called before titles and crowns. The silence drowns out his screaming response. In Honour of Late Awo. Poet's Bio Uduak Wisdom Ezekiel is an indigene of Mkpat Enin, Akwa Ibom state. He is an Undergraduate in the faculty of Law, University of Uyo, currently taking courses on creative writing and Poetry on Coursera. He has won several literary prizes for speaking and writing, and already his first work published on Synchronized Chaos Magazine titled, The Solitude Of Man along with hundreds of unpublished ones.
Poetry from Muhammed Sinan
*The foggy day*
It's the time to wake up early
With the distress of fog
The white cool air fills my room
With a sneezing sound.
It pushes me into bano (bathroom)
With my morning tools
I open the tap
The snowy water falls into the vase.
I run back to the room
Jump into my bed and begin to
Sleep with my pillow
Which once I used to hug every night.
Poetry from Ian Copestick
The Rainstorm I sit here 11:40 p.m. Listening to a rainstorm. There can't be many better feelings than this. Than being safe inside, and hearing the elements outside. The rain hammering, battering at your window, as you drink your last drink. Give your cat, and dog a goodnight stroke, turn off the lights, and just lay there listening to the rain. Falling, falling, falling. They Are There I've really, really enjoyed tonight. Catching up with a friend. Consuming both red, and white wines, and whisky. But that's far from the most enjoyable part of the night. That would be the conversation, the laughter, of which there was plenty. Sometimes I feel quite misanthropic, but nights like tonight show me just what a fool I am. Yes, some people are monsters, but there are also the other type. The genuinely good ones, I'll admit that you don't come across them very often, but they are there. Buddhist-Curious Once upon a time, I was reading up on Buddhism. I was feeling very depressed, and one of the first things I saw was that one of the four Universal Truths is that, " All Life Is Suffering." The way I was feeling right then, I was very impressed with that. It really struck me as a Universal Truth. I read more about Buddhism. But, a year later, I realised that, it's not quite true. Not in the slightest. I'll agree that a Hell of a lot of life is suffering, but no way is all of it. There's sex, although it's a long time since I last had it. Music, poetry, comedy, drinking. A walk in the sunshine. A beautiful meadow, my beautiful pets . Yes . There's a lot of suffering, but there are also a lot of good times. A lot of fun.