Embed Size (px)
Citation preview
RUPTUREDPoems
RUPTURED...Poems
SANK FAMAG
The Magazine for Culture and Development
SANK FAMAG
RUPTURED...Poems
Published in Nigeria in 2017 by SankofaMag on as www.mag.sankofainitiative.orgpart of it’s chapbook series.
Administration and Correspondence:Sankofa Initiative for Culture and Development13, Elewura Street, Off Challenge Bypass, IbadanTel: +234 809 816 4359 | +234 805 316 4359Email: [email protected] | www.sankofainitiative.org
Copyright © Oluwatobi Moses Sotanmide, 2016. Oluwatobi Moses Sotanmide asserts the moral right to be identi�ed as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the author and the Sankofa Initiative for Culture and Development. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this publication may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Cover Design: Tokunbo OlujideBook Design: Servio GbadamosiTypesetting: Winepress, www.winepress.pub
RUPTURED...
Foreword 5
Dire 7Lost Battles 8Survive 9Palm Tree 10Vale of Tears 11Power 12Conspiracy 13Legacy 14e Grey Forgery 15Untitled 16Àkúbè 18
Author’s Pro�le 20About SankofaMag 21
FORWARD
y time in Nigeria was not just some tourist trip to Mcollect snapshots of Africa to hang on my wall back home in the United States. I accompanied a traveling
preacher as he reunited with his brothers and sisters scattered throughout the southern regions of the country.
Amidst that communion, the richest statement I found was not an explanation of the beauteous culture or a souvenir of the crasmanship produced by the hands of Africa. Much more profound was a glimpse into the splintered and bruised heart of an African—the hidden aches of the country re�ected in his person.
Sotanmide's poetry is thus, in part, a vibrant expression of a world I'd never known. is selection from his forthcoming collection, Haemorrhage manifests for me the utmost of paradoxes: for how can words that express such darkness be a source of such profound light? Such is the depth of experience that this collection of poetry communicates.
It is a frightening thing to ask oneself, "What is this pain and why must it be mine?" If ignored, the question lays dormant only until some greater pain summons it once again. e one who approaches the question with courage, however, receives a unique kind of blessing. e very act of addressing one's own wounds produces part of the medicine needed to heal them. Whatever understanding of our pain that we can grasp is the �rst-aid kit for our broken hearts. e word of the poet, then, as an expression of that pain, is a salve to the wound and a light to the darkness. Certainly, we cannot remove our pain simply with thoughtful words. Still, even the darkest coal shimmers and shines when light is cast upon it.
— Jeremy Ray Webb
5
RUPTURED...Poems
DIRE
I grew amidst Myths and fantasiesOf pouncing promisesat slew their oaths.
I grew amidstFiery tales of datedSplendours; of hopes And consolations dwarfed.
I grew amidst Sentiments of dailySails, through drearyOcean of mincing souls.
I grew amidstA future grown grey,A past in its prime;Even thought can barely think.
I grew amidstBlackness and strugglesOf vengeance and of vanity;I learn to survive…
7
LOST BATTLES
It is bloody �ghts,rough horrid nights,In the tent of poor hireling,Scouting the dark for prowlers.
Brood of winged �end, Brave warriors of gloom,Will pierce my wearied frame,To douse their subtle spears.
O my blood, o my blood, Sucked in haste by thirsty foes,I thy whines applaud,And thy kisses scratch.
Come, come, o dawn, I pray, Why tarry, hope, what stays thee?Launch to �ight on wings of wind,Come apace my soul to spare!
e hour is clung to slumber now,Brace thyself o woeful friend, e monsters come in �aming horde,To feast to �ll on wanting soul.
And it is all vain;My lance,My brawn!Or how else are battles won?
8
SURVIVE
Still fare, O marrow of fainting thread,Until hunger farms a land,Until nakedness wields a distaff,Until death breeds a life...
Live before you are made,Last creations of State so named.Do you know of etchings on palace walls?So why meddle in matters of sully kingdom?
Name the grains on Roasted maize, each hungry bite A code for your famished soul.When life says woes, clench thy �st,
If a �ash of hope, do not nurture it;Let it stick between the raveningTeeth of bleak experiences; forSuch life neither kills nor makes live…
9
PALM TREE
e palm tree shouldSucceed its farmer,If not hewn by Mean arms,
Or razed by �res of vanity,Of kinds, you and I,Will trade generations, And earn princely feasts.
Palm oil will be cooked in ose walls we have raised, Brooms too, our �lths will meet.See then, how folly dwells with us!
Cast a brooding look one wide scope of our land,You will see them,Lonely ensigns, spartan,
Towering tall above the maliceOf civilizations. Man willSee the wisdom they are,And build yet a better façade…
10
VALE OF TEARS
What else shall I name you;When shall shadows on your parlous wayEver shield from the wearing rays Of the fretting sun?
What else shall I name you;When shall your scheming hands Ever justly prey a bird toe wandering Fowler?
What else shall I name you -For there are counsels of the dew,Waiting in vain on the noontide - Who to spare will you justly cle?
What else shall I name you?You can't be so mean,Forever unsworn to Fairer ways...
11
POWER
I witness each morningAnticipating the slaver's way,Who daily hoards the lifeat joys common breast.
e oddity stoops in this,at I am made to live in View of certain loss for rights,Without which I am no native.
12
CONSPIRACYWhy rape a harlot...
She is a conspiracy,A forge of strife! Backers, too,Are Pharisees, prides hagglingFor share on looted tracts.
It is man’s to lust, for treasures and for power,e squirrel and the trap alike; raldom is bounden lure,To a maid courted by mythos of her lords.
Ask the dame with greasy thighsIf identity is marred in clash of suitors,If passion keeps ordering adulterous feet To a tent, does it speak of desires met or unmet? Priciest battles are fought cold:Take to her �elds in kind de�ance,Phase war-plays of bleeding fun,Urge a truce, a respite for her woes.
13
LEGACYWho ever doubts the valiance of time,
ough its moments drag across life musing?
In those days, dust will not greetOur curious heels on garnished freeways,ough streets now beaming with happy chance Seldom stay the sway of gloom on plundered breasts.
eirs a promised reign of concrete novelty; Of towering heights and elite savour!at hearts are not fed, why blame the gods?Unlettered men are fairer; easy to crush, hard to herd.
Starve the soul, feed the belly,Famished nous hardly interrogate a means,Forges of dancing lips are precious untruths,Rarest sparks in the league of dry twigs.
It is heyday, season of surplus catch,Come, feast, you given to rations!Barren womb never says “enough!”“Give and Give”, leech of earth.
Twisted reasons, sloppy minds,Is thirty shekels the price for a generation?When insight escapes the wise,Life turns a telling tale.
Posterity shall rise, jubilant,In rueful memorial of thoseFruitful days, times sold to Mean barters of savage tongues...
14
THE GREY FORGERY
My father is older than I am!Elders are sworn to ease,Children work the street,All is mad, maddened still!
My father is older than I am!Who else should beget me?e land can grow tubers,eirs the talk, and ours the toil!
My father is older than I am!He thinks his time is past,And paints my hair with cheery grey,His kind, a hope, a moral forge!
My father is older than I am! He looks down on me for help,Waiting on else life may turn;Our elders have done well!
15
UNTITLED
Life is kind!Remember, when you are ill,It hugs you tight and deep,Brands a warm kiss on your face,And whispers those words you love to hear,All is well! Leaves you pale, wanting more...
Life is generous!Remember, when you thinke money-tree grows somewhere, sometime,Right outside your lowly place,Just behind a neighbour's fence, who knows?ere you are, longing for a look through the walls, Or a leap to earn a simple peep,Hoping you are not true, that there is something Similar there, something you have not been seeing, too...
Life is funny!Remember, when it blasts a joke,One punch here, another knock there,Grants you a horse, a free ride,For one long journey into one vast plain,Until all that is real has come, real as e thought that doubts if the head barely thinks...
Life is spherical!Remember, it turns and spins,For days and nights and times and seasons;Unless for miseries, and all that man may dread,Times scarcely order, and seasons barely ordain,What happy days the earth may yield, from door to door,
16
Aer each unfair share of much beastly nights...
Life is parallel!Remember, it never crosses paths;Some numbers are much longer to call,Some names are much longer to spell,ere are no �gures, no alphabets, only lies,Lies taught and true, So true as far as you see, or otherwise...
Life is,Life is not,Whatever,And you will not be wrong,But you may not be right...
17
ÀKÚBÈ
Who needs comely frames, Some soles to ride to endless ease? is fella fair and full,With scented bluely soul!
He is rare, fortune friend of classy tastes,Daily rubs on us such pricey lustre, at our glossy fronts sparkle golden rays. In and out on garnished plains,
High and low on clever clouds, We journey far and wide, Dine with kings and Dance with queens.
From leaving glossy prints on lush lawns, We are given to trudging Muddy streets and Bushy paths.
Who needs comely frames, Some soles to ride to endless daze? is fella rough and raw,With utter native soul.
He is rare, hapless kind with plebeian needs,Fastens us unto his awful mass,Marches on to ceaseless aches. e stamping is not good,
18
And skin will parch and peel,From caress of intense rays. So we mourn and bleed,From much heedless spites.
Idle stones, probing steels, Wretched darns, bitten away.With faeces of lads to lick,What better way to serve the times.
Wearied, worn and torn, Our lots on sullied hills, Buried deep beneath such heaps, Of kinds and makes unfairly used.
19
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Poet, editor, preacher and gospel music artiste, Oluwatobi Moses Sotanmide writes from Ibadan, Nigeria. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Ake Review, Irawo Poetry Anthology, SankofaMag, e Nigerian Tribune, Daily Trust, e Guardian, Leadership as well as Blueprint Newspapers. His debut poetry collection, Haemorrhage is forthcoming from Winepress Publishing.
20
The Magazine for Culture and Development
SANK FAMAG
SankofaMag is a platform where brave thinking and bold new voices challenge, inform and entertain the world. An avant-garde mix of storytelling and cutting-edge creativity, our contributors create timeless and compelling stories in the advancement of literature, the arts and discourse of the world's most important and intriguing topics.
SankofaMag brings a creative twist to the practice of journalism thus creating a middle-ground where literary dexterity and best practices from the journalism profession are combined to delight our audience. With foundational interests in culture, development and politics, we publish art, features, �ction, interview, podcast, poetry and focused chapbooks for the young and old.
GUIDELINES
Contributors are invited to send in up to three pieces for consideration. ere are no restrictions as to topic, style or theme as long as they are related to the overall focus of the magazine in the areas of culture, development and politics.
All entries must be original, unpublished, in English and typed at 1.5 spacing in Microso Word. Submissions in other languages must be accompanied with English translation. Entries should be sent electronically to and must be [email protected] accompanied by a short pro�le and portrait picture. e word “Submission” and the entrant's name must appear in the subject line of the email transmission.
21
ACCEPTANCE
Selected contributors will receive emails acknowledging receipt of their work as well as details of scheduled publication dates within six months. We acquire �rst electronic publishing rights. All other rights revert to the contributor aer publication. Published work remains part of SankofaMag's online archive and may be considered for the digital edition and our annual print anthologies. If the work is reprinted elsewhere, we ask that you acknowledge SankofaMag as the original place of publication.
It should be noted that selected contributors will not be paid but will enjoy a nonexclusive access to the magazine and the freedom to share its contents with the world. Where an entry is selected for publication in the digital edition or our annual anthologies, the contributor will be duly informed and will also receive a copy of the publication.
22
RUPTUREDPoems
RUPTURED...Poems
SANK FAMAG
