Stories From Young African Poets: Abdurrazak Learns The Art Of Boundaries And The Pain Of Rejection.
When I finally meet her I will bloom satisfaction Pluck enough to reshape into hope Track back to this moment and Seduce the small skeptic sizes Of me into waiting a bit longer
...meaning, a peaceful day in June is a cold day in July; bullets are like raindrops on the mother of green...
Most of my poems are bold and unapologetic. My wild imagination plays a big role in my thought process. I keep a notebook beside my bed in case an idea comes to me.
My poetry was informed by loss—the regurgitation of constant emotions from the influence of this loss.
Western arrogant rationality, which tends to overhaul other perspectives has ushered every part of the world into the age of "posts": post-modernism, post-marxism, post-truth, post-humanism, and we even hear things such as post-Africanity. Fortunately, Africa has not caught the flu of this chaos completely. And, as the overfed children of hypercapitalism and consumer culture get exhausted in their boredom, Africa will be the place of what being human looks like—albeit if the Western power doesn't change us too soon.
As the year continues to run, the call continues with this month’s theme being “Retrogression”.
Tigray Coffee x Rovingheights is delighted to announce our partnership with Orange Poetry LTD to host the first Orange Poetry Live Show.
Growing up I always had this feeling of estrangement from everyone, this deep sense of loneliness and alienation.
Although this poem speaks to the loss of my mother, while also paying homage to the very essence of womanhood, my mother is still very much alive and well. In an interview with Chimee Adioha of Black Boy Review, Ukata Edwardson once said: "The truth is, in all reality, every piece of art and literature performs a little lie."
