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9 Ways to Break Through Writers' Block

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Writers

Ibrahim's Big Joke

Ibrahim’s Big Joke (Against Global Terrorism) We lived close to Government House, just three blocks away from the seat of state activity. My father’s house was situated close because he had purchased the house on impulse when the advert for the sale appeared in the dailies. I could not blame father. He couldn’t adjust himself to the rural lives of Obiakpo setting. The place we purchased was so frenzied; the motorway, the trade flare, the bureaucracy and the overtly civilised urban life. Father had a habit for gardening. Our small-sized mansion was wreathed in greenery of the wildest kind. Our garden was a haven from punishment when we erred and a meditative ground as well. That morning, I was suddenly struck by the beauty of various flowers in full bloom. I was so engrossed in them that I didn’t see Ibrahim and my brother, Dumbiri sneak up behind me and let out an eerie howl. I practically jumped out of my skin before I realized that our Hausa gate-man and my naughty sibling we...

Lion’s Heart (For those with incurable illnesses) I have often thought it a sensible thing to write about the important happenings in my life which I initially believed would be short-lived. However, recent incidents have shown that I will live a long life. There are paths we take because others before us took it; there are those paths we take because we are compelled to do so but there are paths we take because our conscience dictates rightly to us. My case hinges on the last. In fact, I am tortured by guilt stemming from the fact that I am still alive and also the recipient of the favoured benefits that only a lion heart could achieve. I never asked to be severely anemic. I don’t understand why my blood cells decided to take on the sickle-like shape. I am twenty-one today, three days after an incident that altered my pessimistic view of life and left me guilty. I am Nnenne and my twin –Nneka is in this with me. I can’t be convinced otherwise for only distance separates us. I...

Spirit of Darkness

This is my spirit rising From the embers of blackness. Multitudinous hues Depict one most spurned. But, Can the blue clouds above Become dark? Can the red molten magma Become dark? Is it too much that I lack A whitened oblongata? That my dark brain malfunctions For reason, For comprehension? Processing only obscene images Of utmost putrefaction. This is my spirit rising From the embers of blackness Pardoning not Husseins’ and Harams’ Who waste my flesh in red waters. But, Is this knowledge of death For explorers? That I was procreated From the Black Sea, Darkened by feaces of ancestors Worsened by mucus and phlegm’s Of immediate genes? But my spirit Like Christ’s Rises to right The light of the Night.

Desire (A poem from a dark room)

Sometimes we desire LIGHTS that don't exist at the end of a tunnel. Sometimes we desire LIGHTS that even darkness cannot erode. Yet, the ultimate key remains too hard to grasp too hard to keep.., But we find it in the end still a cure to an endless chaos of wills Hotter than Daniel's furnace Brighter than Joshua's sun and moon An epic satiation of sweet candies DESIRE...

Like a Bird, I Flee

My soul is a migratory bird that perches on derelict buildings once memoirs of grand feastings. the quaintness of my thirst has me thirsty for Waters of Yon but my beak perks at nothing. lingering on my taste buds are fluids from the Streams of Vapidity And like a bird, I flee… A long flight to the north has me alighting on the streams in Maidugiri yet another flight to Suleja has me staring at the clear water. yielding to thirst, I drink from it; I taste the greed, conflict and explosions. And like a bird, I flee… Weeks later, I perch on a tree top. weeks later, I survey Mirii Iyalaa. I swoop down to have a drink. my tongue tastes past smoking guns my throat is scorched by the heat of passionate antagonism. I am saddened by so much bitterness And like a bird, I flee… At crossroads between the West and South, I fluttered my wings weary from my prolonged winged flight I fly to the west a quick hasty dip has me repulsed at an injustice so unforgettable ...

Eclipse of Peace

Night was born in the day When sun rays became rainclouds Nightmares evolved from dreams When death knocked on doors Homes sheltered from horrors Families prone to humble comforts Barley screamed their terrors Barely squeaked a protest A majority totally oblivious To reasons behind the attacks Huddled like bees, beheld The locust descend unto their homes Devouring their existence The unmatched swiftness of machetes With blows blazing their unkindness Because sanity could not thrive. Blindness was born at noon When reason became violence Laughter melted into screams When Fulanis in thoughtless And unscrupulous belligerence Burnt mothers’ and daughters’ Dissected and mutilated Terrified fathers’ and sons’ Within church simmered To the ground as debris By smoldering flames First time mother has her head And that of her infant Severed as bloody carcass Because sanity could not thrive.

Feverish Campaign

I can sense the fever As it slowly ravages his body The gimmicks and gambits Of feathery touches Pseudo verbal promises Phoney projects embarked Deliberately to deceive The already deceived. Your vote Your right! Your right Your vote! Better pronounced by Cabals of national incompetence Marshals of kindly pretense Outages of power and Crude scarcities run by Bloody political mafianos. I can sense the fever As it rapidly ravages His body now The date draws closer now Frenzy increases now Last minute coaxing and exchanges To indigenous lumpens Salivating to lick heeled feet’s Of the marshals of kindly pretense.

Tatoo

I bear the mark of a tattooed lion I am tanned naturally - not black, Masterfully Obamamered And never again benighted. I sing a new song A song that chases vultures The eagles have circled I, the one with the tattooed lion Mark my chains in the sand I soar from furnace and bones I am the UNSHACKLED.

Let it Be

Let it be... The taste of smoked beef tonight Has been kerosined beyond Endurable taste buds. The speed of the cheetah Decreased by dazed wills Exercised by fools. The laughter of the hyena Transformed into wailing whales Announcing the slope. Can the bat see In the day? Can the blind Lead the blind? Let Nature dance To its best tune For all must be, So Let it be...

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