Poetural Lifeotural(Collection of Poetry Works form Gifted Poets in Nigeria)

Poetural Lifeotural

(Collection of Poetry Works form Gifted Poets in Nigeria)

Poetural Lifeotural is a Collection of poetry works from selected gifted poets in Nigeria.

Led by Adedeji Oshigbesan, Poetural lifeotural is a title given to this beautiful art of words born out of a symbiotic fusion between the spiritual and the physical aspects of poetry.

This idea came as a result of networking with different Poets via the social media specifically Facebook and Adedeji decided to call the Clarion of these gifted Bards to into action. Also, showcasing that Nigeria has abundance in he resources of Word Art - Poetry.

This E-Book (Novel) gives an Allegory of the Supernatural and the Natural, how Perry has combined them right before our very eyes without our Ernest notice.

To Introduce the E-Book Poetry in a Poetry manner, we have this desert below just for you.

The Supernatural is what God does through you,

The Natural is what God had done,

At the end of the day, eternity has a time count,

Why is God enigmatic?

No wonder people say they don't understand me,

In whose image was I created?

They read their bible too much,

Can't they just grab the dictionary and see if enigma means 'simple'?

Especially Scholars that rate the bible above God?

Poetry is Poetural!

That is,

Both Natural and Supernatural,

That makes a Poet SuperPoetural,

No one is boasting!

That's why we all have our pen and hearts to bleed!

One day,

Somebody said, "Life is a Bi***"

Recently I asked, "Did you rape Life?"

Life is Poetic,

I call it 'Lifeotry'

Poetural is a new word,

For Poets of the new world,

Something is coming soon and you are a big part of it.

By: Adedeji Oshigbesan.

CONTRIBUTING POETS:

Ebere Anyanwu
Adebayo TitiMatthews
Adebayo A Rasheed Ariyo
Iyinsioluwa Ojo
Ude Ugo
Nosar Phillips
Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu
Akinlade Oluwaseyifunmi Sky

TO DOWNLOAD POETURAL LIFEOTURAL NOW, CLICK BUTTON BELOW

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Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies" "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold patriotis...

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....

Jaachi Writes

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