• Publisher’s Message
  • Contributors
  • Poetry
  • Fiction
  • Non-Fiction
  • Galleries
  • Archive
  • Waiting Under the Rock!


    Wait in faith,

    not on a fate

    that’s coming at any rate


    like the black moon

    that darkens the light of noon

    and increases the burial dance

    unlike the interment in France.


    Sad though we must not be

    because of the pain we feel

    under a dwindling rock

    called Aso Rock.


    We wait

    because as yet,

    we cannot move,

    fly or jump like a dove.


    Until we can take a leaf,

    we’ll be covered with the green leaf

    under the dwindling rock

    called Aso Rock.


    Author’s Postscript:Waiting Under the Rock”is symbolic of Nigeria. The Rock symbolizes the Nigerian Government House called Aso Rock and all the gimmicks of politics not favouring the citizenry. The poet persona speaks for the masses using the plural “We” and poeticising that “Until we take our leaf” from bad government and all the indices of underdevelopment including bribery and corruption, crises and death, sickness and poverty, ignorance and illiteracy, unemployment and joblessness, increasing infant and maternal mortality rate, misery and melancholia, we will be covered with the green leaf which was supposed to symbolize the abundance of natural wealth, fertility and fruitfulness but has been upturned.




    Pestle and Mortar

    Like the pestle dancing

    according to the singing

    rhythm of the yam in the mortar,

    words sing according to the rhythm;


    the rumbling thundering of sense

    after thirsting words in their essence

    like licking tangerine

    with my tongue


    after washing down

    the suffocating frown

    of words that choke like

    stubborn bones down my throat;


    a cause not without an effect

    creating lines of defect

    and a song of the fears

    of many years


    until words come,

    healing me and giving me a home

    out of the heap

    of a debris.



    Season of Plagues

    We are hurrying,

    scurrying on hungry stomachs

    to our farmlands with hoes,

    machetes and working shoes,


    eager to make ridges

    on dry lands across the village river.

    In this season of plagues

    that bumper garri has become a threat,


    lassa fever,

    like bubonic plague

    has taken a family line,

    putting so many on the roll,


    waiting for the call

    and the lowering down

    of carcasses

    six feet below.


    We shout,

    we cry like a rhythmic

    rumbling sound of thunder

    orchestrating a calamitous calamity.

    About The Author

    Inalegwu Omapada Alifa


    Inalegwu Omapada Alifa is a Nigerian poet whose works have appeared in “Parousia Magazine,” “NaijaStories,” “Yellow Chair Review,” “Lunaris Review” and “Sentinel Literary Quarterly.”