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    This category is a playground for those who love words as children love toys. The is where Images are clothed in words and made to sing and dance.

    If you think you belong here, be here. Put aside your worries and play as much as you wish. There are no bed times. Whenever you are overcome by the “spirit of creativity” come here to converse with the universe of the human mind.

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    Empire of vampire bats

    Prose Philemon Doro Adjekuko -
    0
    First they smelt blood and followed the trail. Then they ate flesh soaked in fresh blood and loved it. And so like a pack of carnivores they...
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    And by a whisker, it was all over.

    Prose Philemon Doro Adjekuko -
    0
    How I could have…. But didn't and wasn't. I could have disappeared like a tinge of butter in a hot pan. But I did...
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    Don’t call me people of colour

    Prose Philemon Doro Adjekuko -
    0
    I am black. My people are black or shades of black. Some are Maiduguri black, like charcoal. Others are Owerri black. We call...
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    Becoming

    Prose Nneka Acholonu Egbuna -
    0
    You came to me, Because he came. That's the story of how you came.
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    Who am I?

    Prose Nneka Acholonu Egbuna -
    0
    I am the source of all life, Yet without you the cycle is incomplete.I am the vessel From which the rites of passage Must be performed.You journey,...
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    Onoriode ( Who knows tomorrow): A father’s undated note to his child.

    Prose Philemon Doro Adjekuko -
    0
    Of dreams that sleep into the night sky like a dry leaf taken by a draft.GONE.LOST.
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    Homeland

    Prose Umar Osabo -
    0
    They say I talk too muchBecause I rally aroundFor global peaceThey threaten me with jail time and death. I, Umar the poet, I...
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    Songs of a migrant

    Prose Philemon Doro Adjekuko -
    0
    I am set to take my chances. It is only the ears of a child that hear the roar of a paper tiger....
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    Matchbox

    Prose Umar Osabo -
    0
    I approve you For making me dim, Landfill of agony, Sorrow too. I applaud you Because am shrieking orb.
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    Labyrinth

    Prose Umar Osabo -
    0
    Where is the oomph put in the campaigns?Where are the pledges in our china plates?Where is the link between us and them?Where is the meat we ought...
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    She is a woman

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    She is a womanShe wants to throw her hair into a gentle wind Watch the butterflies play with it.

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