Blood and gold —Testimony Odey

Blood and Gold —Testimony Odey

I birth the voices of women

Carved in the calabashes of gold

Whose content was drained by

The throat of men hungry for

Something their eyes couldn’t grasp

Thirsty for liquid that would sting their throat

Red and black, these men wore

A sign that even blood couldn’t shake

A single bone in their body

A sign that wherever they walked in

Darkness and gloom painted the atmosphere

I birth the voices of women who had

No strength to speak up for themselves

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

The tides of the deep blue sea

They follow the rhythm of these tides

Even their heads bop to this rhythm

In the middle of the night

When no one’s by their side

And they are left all alone to cry

I birth the voices of women

Whose voice were too weak

To alert passers-by of the danger

That had befallen them

I birth the voices of women

Whose blood is tinged with gold.

Bio:

Testimony Odey is a Nigerian teen writer, poet, artist, redefined feminist, fashionista and believer. She would rather spend her free time wrapped in a blanket, reading a book or watching Nollywood movies.

Comments

Submit To Us

A Repository For Literary Works Teen Lit Journal is an online journal that publishes poetry, fiction, book reviews and photography. Here are a few things to keep in mind: We accept poetry, fiction, photography, essays, and book reviews. We do not accept submissions that have been published elsewhere. Simultaneous submissions are fine. All we ask is that you notify us when your work is accepted elsewhere. Include a short bio and photograph of yourself. Feel free to make the photograph as informal or as formal as you please. We reject submissions we deem to be misogynist or homophobic, or supremacist on the basis of race, ethnicity or religion. You retain the copyright to your work. However, we do require that you credit Teen Lit Journal as the original publisher of the work. Submission format: Entries should be sent as .doc or .docx files. Entries must be sent single-spaced in 12 point, Times New Roman font. Files should be saved with the title of the work(s) Kindly submit fo...

SWALLOWTAIL AT THE NIGHT GARDEN —Abdulrazak Salihu

SWALLOWTAIL AT THE NIGHT GARDEN By Abdulrazak Salihu I believe I carried the Snapdragon out of the woods And named it a wild flower. There’s a drip in the wind Into your eyes For girls your age I poured a rock into being And it clouded my head. There are crystals in sand And flower-perfume By your chin, And freckles of dust Like saltwater could swallow worms. In my last rite I’m still barricading my eyes Even as light falls as petals Of warmth from a blue moon. Abdulrazaq Salihu is a 17 year old Nigerian poet and writer.He is a member of the hilltop creative arts foundation and was the winner of the December edition of the splendors of Dawn poetry foundation poetry and short story contest . He is part of the panel for the Nigeria Review(TNR) .He was shortlisted for both categories of the Nigerian prize for teen authors (poetry and prose)where his poetry manuscript Constellations won the poetry category and his collection of short stories Hiccups was the first runner up...

Arrow Of Poached Porcupine—Abubakar Auwal

Arrow Of Poached Porcupine—Abubakar Auwal Smiles before the stream of earth— blood coloring the grasses. Sounds of ceremonial drums; Race of stray bullets. A child is dazzled and his mother has learnt to fly; Men over here wear spears between their teeth. Take a look into the eyes of the town. There are clouds wearing the face of gods, Holding swords and false promises. "Oh,where else does a boy learn to scream?" The cries of a missing mother Who lost her seed In a barren farm, speak! Since yesteryears till date- the red blood flows beyond the eyes Cracking with tears Till it becomes dregs. In restlessness we swim, Out of the home for dome, To escape from The direction of stray bullets. No skin is left unscarred , Fathers and potential mothers, brothers and sisters Worship in the death field. They prick our daughters Into early mothers They "inactive" our brothers and sisters; And we found them asleep in the d...

Teen Lit Journal

Search This Blog