The Blood of a Stranger by Dele Charley is a simple, yet symbolic play. Simple because the diction is easy to comprehend. Symbolic because . . .
The underlying figurative implication of the poet expression and description of the bird, ‘bat’, strikes the reader as a discourse with a contemptuous note.
Dzogbese Lisa has treated me thus It has led me among the sharps of the forest Returning is not possible
At home the sea is in the town, Running in and out of the cooking places, Collecting the firewood from the hearths
Sweating between his fingers, the agricultural man sweating in his thorax the musician sweating in his lungs the miner
Coming and going these several seasons, Do stay out on the baobab tree, Follow where you please your kindred spirits
In one of the three pots the three pots to which on certain evenings the happy souls return the serene breath of the ancestors,
If we tell, gently, gently All that we shall one day have to tell, Who then will hear our voices without laughter,
We have come home From the bloodless war With sunken hearts Our boots full of pride – From the true massacre of the soul
I shall sleep in white calico;
War has come upon the sons of men
And I shall sleep in calico;
Let the boys go forward,
Kpli and his people should go forward;
Let the white man’s guns boom,
I am Adeola Adeoti, an eclectic poet and author of a collection of poems, canticles of a happy people, which has been receiving rave reviews in journals across the world.
Mama Olu Orojo is one of the two protagonists in Alex Agyei-Agyiri’s Unexpected Joy at Dawn. She is a Nigerian with a Ghanaian brother.
Dinner tonight comes with gun wounds. Our desert tongues lick the vegetable
blood—the pepper strong enough to push scorpions up our heads.
When God at first made man, Having a glass of blesings standing by; Let us, said he, pour on him all we can: