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Four
Poems |
Kobus
Moolman |
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At night
the mountain is a silence
hunkered between
absence and feeling; |
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5
Poems |
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Richard
Ugbede Ali |
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I
sketch the lines of your face
And feel the contours of what you’ve seen
Now that your flower is full unfurled
And merely awaits a withering |
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Chiedu
Ezeanah |
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Speeches bearded
And clean-shaven
Pound the air everywhere.
So much pathetic data,
Such a plethora of eggheads;
So much dearth of sense. |
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Anton
Krueger |
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white
guys can’t beg,
they haven’t learnt the ropes
yet.
you see them standing at the
robots,
their signs limp in hand,
looking stolidly ahead
while the zimbabweans work the
crowd |
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The
United States of Amnesia |
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Esiaba Irobi |
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your words
And the memory of that afternoon glistens
like the skin of a snake gliding across the road |
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Retrospection |
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Olajumoke Verissimo |
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I am the memory
of Sierra Leone
serial loan of enchanted bitterness
of Liberia
lying burials of ailing serenity
of Sudan
sudating hunger and impaired righteousness. |
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Four
Poems |
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David Chislett |
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I can pore over
Encyclopedias
Or check the meaning of what I saw
In dictionaries
Doesn't change what I thought then
No matter what I understand now
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Globetrotter |
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Amatoritsero Ede |
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where all colours meet
a rainbow democracy
signals spring
in affairs of state
our liberal estate
weathers a conservative thaw |
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