Metaphorical Poems

  Mullah, this time don’t shame me for being drunk. You know it well— thousands of generations ago, our forefather was condemned for taking a bite of an apple. Since then, we’ve been doomed to live in this hell.   I, too, took revenge on apples. First, I chopped them to pieces. Then I imprisoned them in a barrel until they rotted and began to stink. But even that didn’t calm my rage. I punished them as if boiling them in the infernal cauldron of hell.   Then I drank their tears. I drank— as if I were drinking blood. I had become a vampire. Now my head is filled with the air of paradise.   © Bahtiyar Hidayet NOTE: About The Poem Bahtiyar Hidayet's "Apple Vodka" is a potent and evocative poem that blends religious allegory, personal rebellion, and a darkly humorous sense of catharsis. It explores themes of ancestral sin, inherited suffering, personal vengeance, and a paradoxical search for paradise through self-...

In the hush of first dew, where whisdpers weave,   Ants tread softly on a tapestry of leaves.   Each carrying grains from the earth’s deep chest,   Preserving their paths in a dance manifest.   With tiny feet marching, each one a mind,   Together they toil; purpose intertwined.   A lineage vibrant, their essence remains,   Rooted in soil where memory gains.   Our ethnic threads braid through time's gentle tide.    We mold our ways with care and precision,   A legacy rich with each passing vision.   I am the lion guarding this strong pride;    Flames in my heart, the world my guide.    With roar like thunder echoing afar,     I stand as protector 'neath each guiding star.    Through rivers twisting and mountains looming,    I forge an embrace where our ways find room;     Though unfamiliar winds howl and shadow...

 By Nwafor Oji Awala. “Deep Dive In the abyss of our presence, silence screams, A haunting echo of crimes that defy utterance's seams. Peace lies prostrate, mouth agape, words falter wide, Injustice suffocates, justice wounded, left to reside.   We walk the tightrope of kindness, steps precise, One brick at a time, brick by brick, we rise. Zeroes transform to heroes, heroes crumble low, A delicate balance, where strength and fragility grow.   With calculated intent, we lance the boil's dark core, Sanitized tools, skilled hands, every finger applies pressure more. The storm rages, then subsides, revealing a new terrain, Resilience reshapes the landscape, hope and pain.   In this dance of brutal honesty, comedy pricks like a thorn, Exposing raw, pulsating wounds, truth born. Water, blood, and pus flow, a cleansing, healing tide, A new narrative unfolds, growth, defiance, side by side.” © Qinisela Possenti Ndlovu   ANALYS...

Brown Paper Bags As a child I always felt I was, nothing Yes, nothing Insignificant No matter How hard, I tried My efforts felt, in vain All I felt, was pain I internalised my suffering Hardly ever, said a word As, once, when I did The punishment, was absurd Brown paper bags Became a source, of comfort In my hour of need I’d tear bits off And chew them To satiate and feed Quelling the pain inside All done in secret I couldn’t tell a soul I don’t know how or why This brought me some relief I only felt If I stopped I would never Live long enough To have the chance To be seen It was a coping mechanism That as a child, made sense To all the nonsense and absurdity It became, my only defence Now, I look at brown paper bags With, a kind of fondness Being all grown up Knowing, I’m not nothing That, I was, always, something I was me, then And now, today I’m totally, me, for sure I’m the me, I was meant to be ...

  A poem by Nwafor Oji Awala   Oh, Nigeria, land of fertile soil, Your future shrouded, in a dark turmoil. Arise, and reclaim your rightful heritage, And banish corruption, with courage and with rage.   For in the struggle, truth will find its way, And justice's light, will banish darkest day. Let freedom's song, once more ascend the air, And chase the shadows, with hope beyond compare.   ©Nwafor Oji Awala Ogale Eleme May 2025   Photo Credit: Shutterstock