Please tell us a little bit about your most recent work​.

I am Ngozi Olivia Osuoha a Nigerian poet/writer. A graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. I have published over one hundred poems in over ten countries. My first two longest poems of 355 and 560 verses published in Kenya and Canada respectively are available on amazon. They are THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN.

What draws you to writing poetry? 

Everything draws me to poetry. The world is full of hate and anger, terrible things. I feel like making it a better place. It is a burden, a gift, a calling and a call.

Are you currently working on any side projects such as short stories, essays, etc? 

Yes. It's been long though. I switch them. Whenever they are finally ready, God will announce them.

Which topics interest you most and why? 

I don't have topics. I write about everything. Anything that worries my peace, any inspiration gets penned.

Do you have any unique rituals? 

No. Except prayers.

One poet more people should know: Who is it? 

Do I even know? The social media is crazy . A whole lot of great poets there.

Do you find it difficult to get your work out there? 

Writing is not a problem. Reading may be, because you cannot force people to do that. But I know I have loyal reader, secret and open. I do good poems, anyway. You just can't reject them. But I need support and more audience. It is just a starting point.

When it comes to your work, where do you find your inspiration? 

Writing is not exempted anyway, that's what I will tell you.
The basic inspiration comes from God, however he spreads it on humans, environments, happenings,...... Everywhere.

What would you like to tell your readers? 

​My readers??? I love them. Please they should keep reading and supporting me. I just love them. Together, we can change the world.

An art so wondrous
Divine in every sense,
A creature so elegant
Creative, gallant and immaculate.

The bravest of creation
Smart, strong and sound
Loving, caring, lovely, careful
The woman, a little god.

Homemade, homemaker
Groomed and grooming
A confident confidant
A loyalist and a faithful
Submissive, calm and resilient.

Pure,  genuine companion
Quiet, honest giver
Fair, jealous lover
Godly, decent soulmate.

Save her the drama
Heal her the trauma,
Clean her the stigma
And clear her of the dilemma.

Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. Her first two longest poems THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN of 355 and 560 verses published in Kenya and Canada respectively are available on amazon. She has published over one hundred  poems in over ten countries. She is a passionate African ink and she loves her family. 

peace, why drag supremacy
And fight for superiority?
Why crush silence
And break thine sheath,
That we remain at war?

You waylay unity
And make skulls, your crown
You ambush growth
And arrest development,
Peace, why hate thyself
When you are a gem?

Barefooted, you wander afar
Thirsty, you stand aloof
Hungry, you sink beyond
Lonely, you stray away
Peace, why art thou gone?

Come, peace come
Return, O peace
This earth is broken
This world is bruised,
Come, heal the air
Come, sweep the land
Return, O peace,
Peace! Peace! Be Still!

Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. Her first two longest poems THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN of 355 and 560 verses published in Kenya and Canada respectively are available on amazon. She has published over one hundred  poems in over ten countries. She is a passionate African ink and she loves her family. 

Bribery in royalty
Greed in chieftaincy
Deceit upon loyalty.

Cowardice in red cap
Ignorance in large map,
Illiteracy widening the gap.

The staff of injustice
The sandals of atrocity,
The belt of witchcraft.

Foolishness loves the liquor
Selfishness drinks to stupor
Betrayal sells the tutor.

Quarrels always fueled
Fights frequently mailed
Division broadly sealed.

Gang up buying the poor
Estrangement shutting the door
Blood spilling on the floor.

Blackmails openly booked
Scandals well cooked,
Rumours wisely hooked.

Truth becomes the trap
Trust remains a crap,
Honesty, the lost lap.

Diligence totally forgone
Competence thoroughly undone,
Negligence never gone.

Bravery getting dumped
Raped by slavery
Fakery greatly crowned.

Fairness turns the mourned
Freedom already drowned
Kindness never to be returned.

Stupidity donates himself
Anxiety chains herself,
Integrity murders itself.

The blind leading the seer
The lame chasing the deer,
The deaf training the trumpeter.

Anger quakes the rooms
Hatred glows and booms
Revenge, everywhere looms.

Boundaries everywhere
Poisons, here and there
Discrimination we all steer.

Enmity, the watchword
Discord, the dynasty
Unity decamps our world.

Agony behind the scar
Harmony beyond the star,
Matrimony buried deep far.

Backbiting and slandering
Defamation and propaganda,
Hatred begeting hate.

Village politics
Sold like narcotics
Enjoyed by lunatics.

Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. Her first two longest poems THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN of 355 and 560 verses published in Kenya and Canada respectively are available on amazon. She has published over one hundred  poems in over ten countries. She is a passionate African ink and she loves her family. 

by Amaan Ahmad

I met happiness at the gates of sorrow,
Trying to read the labyrinths; It fell upon the lips of horizons,
Where my paths lead to the blind I set my alarm to the moon,
With a wish to burn its shadows
With the colors of my broken dreams,
I walked with the lover of melancholy,
And crossed the old lanes of loneliness
Where dreams had meet the graffitis
Of the forlorn time and history;
Where do my stories rest?
I had asked the dead verses--
It had showed me the lips of my dead muse,
But I had found only the splinters of time
Showing me the dreams' laughter
On the threshold of the faded graffitis;
I drank a few drops of my thoughts,
With a hope to die in my womb;
The shadows had knocked upon my reflections,
Warning me of the philosophies untold,
Will they, who once had succumbed to nothingness, define the sorrows or the futility?
The sentences had been lost so were the dreams,
​And here, I still sing a sad lullaby to the shadows of the moon streams...

Please tell us a little bit about your most recent work.
​
My most recent book, Shattered living, was inspired by my personal struggle with mental illness, as well as what I’ve seen with family and friends who’ve suffered the same thing. It took a lot of courage to write, but honestly, it also gave me relief. Not only did I write it for me and those who’ve been down the same road, but for those who never have. My hope is that this collection of poetry brings much-needed awareness to these diseases
​
What was your motivation for writing it?

Again, to raise awareness, but to also reach the ones who suffer as I have. I want them to know they’re never alone.

Are you currently working on any side projects?

Yes, one is top secret, though it will be revealed soon. *wink* The other is titled Shattered Loving. It’s the sequel to Shattered Living and is written from a different perspective. More details to come!

What motivated you to become a writer?

I’ve always enjoyed writing. It’s in my soul. But I never thought I was good enough for anything special until a very talented author (and dear friend) saw something inside me and helped fulfill my dream. I’m still shy when it comes to my writing, and I’m sure that will never change, but I’ve learned that to do great things, you have to take chances and put yourself out there.

Do you have any unique writing rituals?

Words come to me out of nowhere, so I always have to be prepared to jot them down before the ideas are lost. If I had to claim a specific ritual, though, it’s that I need to be alone and closed off from the world. No interruptions, just me and my thoughts and my words. I can’t even write a grocery list in chaos.

Do you feel close to your characters? If yes, how so? If no, how do you maintain a distance?

In Shattered Living, I am the character, so I felt every bit of emotion all over again as I worked through the poems. As for my super-secret project, it’s a work of fiction, but the co-author and I feel as close to the characters as one can feel. They’re all a blending of us and people we’ve known, and something like that is extremely personal. Especially when you pour your blood, sweat, and tears into it. It’s like we’re leaving a little piece of our soul behind in the pages.

Do you find it difficult to maintain a career as a writer?

Having just published my first book, that’s a difficult question to answer. I'll have to see where my career takes me. What I can say is that it’s not my goal to be famous and make a ton of money, it would only be bonus. My true goal is to reach people and leave a legacy behind. To be remembered by my words and how they may have touched or helped someone.

Tell us about your day jobs.

My day job consists of being a secretary, a psychiatrist (and a psychologist), a taxi driver, a cook, maid, lover, a fighter and defender. So basically, I'm a stay-at-home mother and a wife to a wonderful man. And that is a full-time job, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

When it comes to developing a plot and the characters where do you find your inspiration?

In real life experiences. And in what I think is not only relatable, but funny. We have to find the humor in even the darkest situations, or life will chew you up and spit you out whole. Believe me, I would know.

What would you like to tell your readers?
​
First, I’d like to tell my readers is that is no one is better than you, so never give them the power to make you feel inferior. You’re an original, so never forget that. Second, always chase your dreams… no matter how small. Go after things that make your life a happier place and give you purpose. And lastly, never stop reading. You’ll find it gives you not only a chance to escape from everyday life, but the best kind of stories also give you hope, and restore your passion and faith. It’s why I do what I do.

by Lacesthapoet

We, the population of the unknown living outside the castle
In isolation, we surround the castle like waters surrounding an Island!
We're the labour force, the pillars of the society.

We, the masses crawling on grasses like snakes,
Day and night we toil the soil as we prey(pray)
Lay our stomachs on tree's just to cover ourselves with leafs!

We, the weak ones seek refuge in graves just to forget our sorrows and suffering!
We became slaves in a land we were born into,
A land we fought for!

The cry of a poor child is never heard, but the lies of a politician is always on a loud speaker!
We vote, we work and we talk, but the consider us as cripples.

We, the majority live in Sacks tight like rice in sacks!
We came here to live, but thieves want to us to leave so the feed us grief!

A poor man never see's or hear,
He's neither blind nor deaf......
Still he lives to tell a story.

by Lacesthapoet

Our talents despise, education with price!
Our sons cold, their mouth too small to hold a spoon,
is freedom really coming soon?
Hope, hold our buttocks like pampers.

by ​Lacesthapoet 

My thought is nude, 
I don't need leafs and
fine clothes to cover my thoughts!
People see me and feel the urge
to undress their thought
while others
​Judge!

by Jeremy Mac

         Shuffles the Chik Chik Sprite roams the toadstools and phosphorous lit
pools across the land of Spores de Fright,
        Shuffling his flayed feet over the moores, teeth chik chiking hungry for
fleshy pores, he senses a fresh meal tonight,
        Flapping frayed wings, as dead things sing, he leaps into a dark flight,
        Buzz buzz wings buzzing, and chik chik teeth chiking, his milky white eyes
alight,
         Hundreds more fly inbound, like a school of piranha the marching sound, the
​decaying colony gather for a fat feast approaching their plight,
        The Chik Chik Sprite army drop with unrelenting force, devouring the main
​course, juicy marrow a desert with each delectable bite,
        Within seconds there is no more, and for a moment Shuffles deplores, for he
​vaguely recalls a time of pure innocent delight,
        A life from days of yore, when he’d lived amongst a warm bodied colony
near bright shores, once known as a grand land called Spores Delight,
        Infected, they devolved, knowing not what it was called, quickly wracked by
a new unsavory appetite,
        Slowly old memories fade, of that lush land sprung with ripe fruit and
comforting shade, now accursed in eternal blight,
         So Shuffles the Chik Chik Zombie Sprite shuffles away, from the freshly
eaten bones of the day that will forever lay, in their new home now known as
​Spores de Fright.
​