I’ve carried that mindset in every piece I write, I never use my phone to write. Instead  I lock myself away with my laptop that only has Microsoft word paired with a thought-racing mind. Most times before I write a good poem I’m very hungry, I probably wouldn’t have eaten the whole day. Me being uncomfortable pushes my brain to lock in, not get distracted and finish the work  so I can be comfortable again.

Alabi likens this to the little value we place on what we used to have that is free but never allowed ourselves to explore at a new place where we can no longer enjoy that freedom but are happy to explore.

The Forgotten Sorcery Of The Poet by Suleiman Zailani

Véronique Tadjo is a renowned Ivorian novelist, poet, and writer. At 69, her work stands as a powerful testament to her rich heritage and the influence of the French language, in which most of her writing is rooted and written. Her work has been translated into over 20 languages, but as English author Samuel Johnson observed, “the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written.

In a lot of ways, ending a year is like ending a poem. Like a poet approaches a finished poem in scrutiny, going over and reading it again, sometimes reading it out loud to hear the rhythm and make sure it flows smoothly, so too do we go over the events of an ending year. But unlike a poem, we cannot remove the words or the lines we feel are obstructing the flow of a year spent. There is no going back to remove a word or insert a new one. There is no changing the events of any moment. There is no altering the flow. There are only the what-ifs.

Since I was born, daddy bought us books. He was a writer himself, writing stories in notebooks that ended up in corners of the house, unpublished. Had my father been born in more recent times, he’d be a great writer, I think.

I like forests because they are full of mystery and are mystical. I love that they are full of life and yet quite secretive. If you’ve ever lived near a forest, you get that sense of latency, something just coiled and waiting, a sense of fullness even when you don’t see anything but the trees. It’s like a hum, a pulsation underneath everything.

Bassey Ikpi still identifies as a writer though she has referred to herself as an “ex-poet”. She has recently clarified that poetry was simply the conduit through which she could articulate all the emotions she failed to understandably express. Now, she says, she is healthier than ever and is interested in publicising wellness as a possibility, as a lifestyle.