Jaachi Writes

After receiving complaints from poets that the time frame given for the submission is insufficient, we have decided to extend the deadline for submission till September 14, 2018. In other words, you have 16 days to write and submit. For Anthology guidelines,  Click Here To submit your entry, Click Here for Submission Form Have you read the Pun Poetry Anthology?  Pun Poetry Anthology is a collection of poems that passed the final stages of the Pun Poetry Contest organised by ACEworld Publishers and Poemify Publishers.  Pun Poetry Anthology Book Title: Pun Poetry Anthology Published: August, 2018 Publisher: Poemify Publishers Format: eBook (pdf) Size: 1.2 MB Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

I Know A Man I know a man, and I know you do Ever with the books, but greying a fool For what is he whose light reveals not his folly - when he beholds all supernal, the craft of fancy? I know a man, and I know you do Calls a young man to himself with a lowered lorgnette "I am enlightened", brags he, in deception's net and invites him to a banquet of knowledge untrue I know a man, and I know you do Drunk always in his chamber as his manner is, with reason Calleth God to his knees to be forgiven Doeth he, by folly, enthroned upon an oaken stool I know a man, and I know you do that looks upon the Holy Writ with an evil eye His worship abides with them that attends him the lie and knowest not his life is named nothing greater a vapour, morning dew I know a man, and I know you do growing all the wiser, the way of perdition yet do I owe him prayers for sight anew weeping against the desires of hell on knees broken - Martins Deep Click Here  for MORE poems by  Martins Deep Enj...

When Old Wounds Bleeds It comes unbidden like an avalanche invoked by old familiar odors touching your skin like eels travelling through the spine When old wounds bleeds The lips wants to excuse the soul with new songs too feeble an anchor to keep sanity The heart strives to keep the tombstone unrolled but the chronicles reads itself into the wells of your eyes that runs over Echoes reverberates, noiselessly as a sunken treasure-ship hits the ocean floor The exclamations of passion, Father's words slips out through the fissures of his grave- his sinewy hands outstretched offering the oil lamp of the wise Old acquaintances come to play as flies, the sores on Lazarus when old wounds bleed The azure wears a widow's mourning wrapper The melodies of skylarks falls upon the ears like the cry of black ravens upon plains where fallen sons lay asleep from the kisses of poisoned arrows beyond the recognition of their mothers When old wounds bleeds violins replace the djembe The red...

The poet finds himself on this side of heaven called Africa and deeply falls in love with her. He embraces society with its ills and believes in the power of his ink to administer a panacea. Among all the different dimensions of pain that provokes his muse to action is the African child who is; Unloved, uncared for. Dying and turning into a wild beast. A beast now hunted down, sadly. Starved and denied of the necessities of life being subjected to hardship. Deprived of quality education Left with no cultural heritage, left with half-baked legends and tales of ancient times in history books etc AfriChant is an attempt to bring hope and teach society responsibility. AfriChant is an anthology driven with the spirit of Africa and the sorrows of the African child seeking explanation for all the wars going in and around him.  Poetry is the selected genre of literature employed to address this menace staring too long into our faces. Contemporary poets in Nigeria are hereby summoned to sh...

Allen And The Mirror "You're cute" the mirror softly spoke "But more than a feeble cub with a beard you know" He cried, "Why can't I be forever this little folk?" "Never you once say you love the looks of a wise owl?" And Nature rode by the night he clocked sixteen To sow the crops forbidden He woke up to feel the prickles Wondering how one night had brought so many troubles. "Who planted on my face these fiendish briers?" He asked the mirror on the nightstand "So bad how a cherub yesterday looks a chimp today with hairs - Or am I just blind?" "I can feel your pain little one" The mirror replied calmly "Tis how watched your grandpa grow till he passed on - Wait a few days to behold the garden that charms every lady" Unconvinced, the boy Allen broke into solemn tears On a barter of magic for adult fears and the sores razors will bring Aftershave that makes father moan when it stings "You'll...

As The Candles Go Out - Martins Deep As The Candles Go Out As the candles go out and nightfall comes ambling by with the haunting scent of the monsters in your nightmares When I'm too far away to save your ears from the lashing thoughts of a hard day breathe.  Dream without caution. When the fragrance of flora fades at the sacred place by the stream where our hearts climb up the loftiest vaults with scarred backs breaking under totes full of dreams Feel for my prints on your skin like spells to drive away depression. Would you write a letter that will never reach the Post Office telling how your heart is a mad rainmaker calling clouds to burst from your eyes flooding over what cries for your breast aside me? Would the child in you find a cradle between the lines of my poetry for the cold night? Light years is a light thing for the flight of souls seeking to make a whole Imagination is a winged chariot that wants to show you the holes in time. Touch me through the wisps of smoke fro...

For Ude Ugo Let the mirror tell of thine beautiful soul and not thine veiled visage Stand where true reflections sets thee above old wives tales about thee. Hear it when the harp in thy sad footfalls joins the orchestra of nature at the stream side. In mud, on marble Be spent on this quest to find true reflections wherever little lady Wherever! - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For AJ Uyo Be still though thy tears Tries to flood thee away Kneel in the clay, pray away thine cares Knead thy troubles into a lay. Say to thyself before a looking glass "I shall trust the winds with my darned mast" If thou weepest in sorrow to part Know thee thine eyes only fed of the fire in thy heart. Thou art lovesome Be not moved if thou art looked upon as a worm. - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Yetunde Morenikeji  I can tell, so tell your hands are weary from holding swords that it cannot hold the pen to write your story Fret no more for I found all that's unwritten in a manuscript with your name not on papyrus, parchment nor papers but upon hearts of men told by their tears when I'm asked "Do angels have scars, for we saw one that led us from the valleys?" - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Gloria Obi Etim You are not feeble though you cannot fly where destiny calls now. You're strong keeping the picture in your mind the blessed season will sort out from the dust when it rides by in the winds in the eyes of the world. Sceptres were first ploughs my beloved Look back not but only with a grateful heart Striving against the voices that boo you down with reasons to poison your precious dreams. Sweat may be all the wine you might drink and tears the words spoken Still hold on Still hold on - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Oluwafunmilayo Ojeniyi Is it not from the blood of a bleeding soul the balm is found? Know you not to be a jar of Gilead's balm thou must be cracked? The breath to the dying The shoulders for the weeping The hope to the sighing The truth to the one caught in the web of lies. How long will you hide your story- even this bandage that is deeply crimson? O that tears will not veil your eyes my beloved! - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Acrostic For Iheanachor Adanna Amarachi Ink may with words Not paint richly thine Scars still feeding Painfully on thy joy Is it not from thine storm Raging within that thou wilt hear the waves call Aloud to Thee to lord over fear? Is it not On this sinking ground the Nations will Ask enthralled, " Do gods now Live amongst men?" Look thou again little one a rising within you! -Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Okoro Hannah Ozioma Real fiends, fake friends Real thorns, false roses. Would one tell truly thy tale if it were inked by thine tears? When thine heart gets sick of poetry in the sky With thine head down write a lyric on the earth for heaven to sing over you "Love will find the broken Wherever As the flood upon every dry land" - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Marycolette Matiki The seed dies to become the envied bloom Loveliest comes the touch where the sore is deepest after the stab When night comes and the sun falls asleep beneath the watery quilt of the sea, know thee then the times beckons for thy light Shine, come alive like coals touched by fire. -Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

This Night Without You This night without you words could go wrong when a long silence cuts deep But the tongue must lay in its damp cave, asleep to let the eyes speak the dialect only the weary heart comprehends. Would I hear your homeward footfalls today - your lilting voice poking the embers of the furnace? Deadly is the winter in my soul Where the heat heals only in your arms A foretaste of resurrection morning comes the moment you'd announce, "Love, I'm home!" Wish you'd come with your bamboo flute this drummer boy in my chest to duet Under the sickle moon going down the sea To reap dreams for you and for me. - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Every heard of Phoetry? Okay, I'll tell you what it is. Phoetry is a blend of Photography and Poetry.  One good way to travel down memory lane is to have a good picture in front of you. It just has this way if dishing you old smells, feelings come trailing back, then there is the tears pouring down like waterfalls though salty this time.  Black and white does that magic of playing the story over again in the mind. Its even more beautiful with emotions truly captured than those fake smiles in posed in front of a camera man. Without much ado, we bring you that proposal to go search your photo album that best captures your down moments. We desire to share in your memory. Poems are going to be penned by Martins Deep with special cover arts by me and published on my literary blog. Rules: * Ladies only! * Pictures must be fine black and white * Pictures must be real snap shots  of participants. * Participants are entitled to one picture each. * Owners of selected  picture...

Tale Of The Inker Words: How they fondled your stitched heart messing up your beautiful mind like public toilets Unapologetically drawing water from the forbidden wells of your eyes split generously on pages that never belched! Words: They cut deep like razors watching you bleed With a balm to heal the wounds with just a line shrouded in riddles. Words: They made you lust for adventures beyond the cliched breasts of mother earth You looked at the stars a debtor that owed tales of travels to earthlings. Words: They turned pot holes to oil wells Grey and ash flocked gloriously with Ophir gold and sapphire They tickled the wings in your soul you never knew cried to soar you Kings grew lustful and made courtiers of the weavers of words keeping them like silk worms for royal robes. Subtly, desire fell a seed on the good ground of your heart You eyed the pen Like an envious general the sceptre of a boy king. Words. Only you heard the whisper that called your name that night your feet dancing...

She Is On Her Way (For Endurance Victor) She'll be rather willing to be burnt on the stakes forgotten than sleep and wake in the jailers chains watching her purpose gather up dust. Rake her charred remains heap upon heap among others that died trying She'll smile till the last, pleased. Call her weak and wait but a week for a shocker to be hatched up her sleeves Her make up is as good as war paint In the battlefield of her mind She'll smile - you'll think the sun is tucked in her mouth. Strong woman walking carelessly over weighed rules drunk with queenly demand as she staggers you'll hear the music her feet makes crushing beneath her feet old paintings of black woman. Piece by piece where the moon is absent to grace the nightsky She'll complete the puzzle of the woman in her dreams. The wildest panthers are not odds enough to stop her Conquest drums drums hard in her chest that they'll flee cowardly. She has stopped feeding her past with her precious tears ...

Morountodun Morountodun , this is the place you'll find me like the prey of a shrike choked through by your thorny words When the chase after Omo Ogun with your heart Failed to be anything worthy to steal the cheapest glance from his hammer and anvil When the waist beads fails to be the skeleton key to get all you desire You will find me. This is where you'll find me when the stars you so dreamed of- drifting off my bosom that has never held anything as precious as dying mother breathing her last are now but fireflies stuck in the cobwebs of the black widow. It is not I Morountodun if the songs that tried to serenade you is served cold, sour. The live coals within my chest will drip down my cheeks. Looking into my eyes do you see a flower dancing in the furnace unscathed? It is you my black woman for pain will not devour the faintest wisp of love in the wildest of fires. Tell me tales of your miseries of the lots cast on your iro and buba to be this tattered I'll fetch ...

I Have Moved On The fake postman under the spell of your sob story had dropped the forty-ninth letter in nine months Envelope stained with cerise lipstick, perfumed with promises, sealed with the saintliest of tears. Your best ammunition had met my firewall Shrapnels dropped like snowballs at my feet You knew I still missed you to the bone Turning to meet you I see the circle I cringe like a mouse that recognized the trap written, "We can still build our future together again" My tenderized heart gathering its hewn stones thrown far apart when you showed me my old aftershave telling how you smell it to sleep for five years I fought tears refusing to water the old garden of our broken love. I can not return, Never! Hell is heaven when it cries for lost prey I had smelt the quicksand beneath your rosy bed "Forgive me" I spat Feeling for my tourniquet dripping fast "I choose to be doomed with my decision. I have moved on." - Martins Deep Enjoyed reading? Pl...