Segun Ozique

  Watching water in the sprinkle: Fluency of the sweetening splash, As it nourishes the soul of the soil, Is a force of beauty of delicate sort. Water seepage in human as sweat; Is but cesspool to cradle holding life, That needs am inflowing by the deep; As life is water, like water is life. Water, nature’s leg stool of the living; Life, the ring of existence to death; Both, the alchemist’s mix and m ash; Being will be demised without water.

Two in cosy and beautiful enclave Sensuous music for company Yet through the tone-dazzles One voice slice through Stayed hooked on connection Speaking to one’s most sense Belting words, truly soulful Sad, sad songs to making the body Cold, naked, no fire could put out; Enough hefty to strip a creeper:   To arouse regrets of One last look at the velvet. At the Freshly sensuous catch, to cause Flattening and flapping fishing rod. To say no after shower, since   It was obvious God must be crossed: The right organs came to this knowledge: But not the heart; not shrewd To knowledge when it did not feel right: The instant it was time to walk, away.  

Almost everyone knows the story of battering, kidnapping, killing and many other obnoxious things done to journalists in Nigeria of old.But then, we thought thing had changed over the years since the coming of democracy to Nigeria. But the story changed with the cruel assult of a photo journalist, Benedict Nwalaka, that showed clearly, the shadowy underside of Nigeria, Lagos in particular, and for long, hidden from the public gaze. It showed the evil of the urge to control; an issue in all human relationsship.That, if not properly managed, can become frust with abuse and mismanagement as it clearly happened with the mishandling and abuse of the journalist out and about doing his constitutional duties as part investor and habinger of the fourth estate, charged with information disemination. True, people abhor the feeling of helplesness and not been anle to command as it used to be during the obnoxious years of the military.But facts is - that years of command and control are gone an

This anthology is a collection of 93 poems by 32 poets and edited by Eriata Oribhabor - himself, a poet, who has been a frontline campaigner for an integrated Nigerian lingua-franca. To the best of my knowledge, the poems in this collection are fresh and original. The language, like the styles of presentation, are light, conversational and unconventional, all of which give the poems deceptive simplicity. The subjects range from the engagement with Nigeria as motherland, her past history to representational or fictive version of current occurrences in the country; to reminiscence of childhood memories; of love; longing; students life and urban life  to the portrayal of underprivileged Nigerians’ existentialist struggles – interpreted as allegories of struggles against domineering ruling class, the oil companies, the  government and its unfavorable policies etc - just about all, often culminating in hints of optimism about the chances for salvation. Some of the poems seem a little too

Nature, which in its simplest definition means everything created in the world is perfect, that is, until through the insatiable need to improve upon it, the human is leaving in its wake, environmental destruction, social upheaval, economic woes, spiritual emptiness, injustice, fraud; the list goes on, endless. In this important book, “Inside My Head,” by Umary Ayim shows by a compelling exposition that though it seems everyone in this century has lost it, there are actually only a few senseless drunkards who happen to be occupying the driving leadership seats, and steering the human race in the wrong course and unless the many good but powerless others awake from their apathy, take back control of the wheel, and applying sensible break at the many man-made dangerous curves, the human race is racing heading on towards a final fatality. The book is a stunning and illuminating collection of poems. Her writing shows her grasp of contemporary social issues, presented in expres