Sunday Lipi

Sunday Lipi | English | April, 2nd Week




Achingliu Kamei

When I die bury me beside my mother
Under the mahogany tree she planted
Beside the fishpond father dug in his youth
A peach tree to shade me and my brother
Mountain crocus on my headstone.

Anthurium for mother, sunflower for papa
Let them dance, twirl, and sway in the breeze
Place a kettle and a bamboo flute
Let it bubble and hum under the blue sky
Let the iris be my eulogist.

My coffin be of bamboo,
Let me turn to soil soon, nutrients for spring
Tombstone reads “See you at The House”.
I had loved well. I’m at peace.
A seat and a swing near my grave.

Residuary, pecuniary, specific, reversionary
I have none. I leave behind love and pain
Love for all creatures, respect for nature
Empathy for the weak and poor
I hope I’ve carved my name on some hearts.

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That’s my belief

Iolanda Leotta

The waves of the bubbling sea,
crash on the cliff,
then on the foreshore,
rewound, push back,
drag along debris,
flows impetuously
it’s a danse macabre,
on the sand emerge
the soaked wrecks of a tragic past.
Nothing can stop the supernatural fury
of the weaves.
The naval battles, the showdown
between pirates and sailors,
the horrible death of floating bodies
storm-tossed by the weaves.
The beginning of the end is relentless
death spares no one,
who will ever find a cure for death!
Scientists and philosophers try to solve
the enigma “The origin of life”,
but they don’t realize that the formula
is in the mind of the Supreme Being,
“The Almighty”.
Mankind! you’re clutching at straws.
no one can challenge
the Supreme intelligence,
the Universal Father.
Only you “Poetry”, sublime expression
of the deep motions of the soul,
the hidden feelings, the intense emotions
caused by tragic events,
I dare firmly say that your soul will survive,
Imperishable like the poet’s spirit,
Can you tell me what it means to die!
It’s when you close your eyes forever,
fall into a deep sleep
and keep on dreaming eternally.

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A Wet Week (Flash Fiction)

Christopher T. Dabrowski

You will have a very wet week. Really. On Monday cesspool will pour. As if that was not enough, in a neighbor upstairs there will be a flood that will flood your entire flat. That is not enough of the attractions. The neighbouring river will change into raging element – Flood of century awaits you: floods fields, floods farmyards, undermines the foundations, sinks the basements and then entire ground floor. A succor will not soon come – especially that for the last three months of holiday will be constantly raining. Fortunately, you are not moving. Keep it up! Despite all these catastrophes, despite rough rains, anyhow, you will jump to the lake to swim with passionate undines. Because you are Aquarius.

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The Need oR Greed

Simran Tripathi Shringi

Forced her to bleed
Not just the skin
That repeats the sin
It’s her soul
That’s the charcoal
Burnt in the absence of air
That’s the reason of despair
The person who dig it out
Is the “pig” in doubt!
Can be named “black cloud”
Who rains in drains!
His hands never turned black
She is a scapegoat
Who enticed the “wolfish”!
Its’ her need to feed
Not the beggar’s greed.
The one who sells her soul
Without any justification
She accepts the identification.
Think once who the beggar is?
& who is the king?
Who could have an emperor!
But all sinks
In the eyes of the people
Who doesn’t allow her to drapple!
That’s her Fable
She is a parable
Hopefully! If I can do something for them
In a world of unattainable
I could attain the identity of women
That’s how; we can bow down the “demon”.

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The Danger of Taking Shortcut

Onipede Festus moses

One may hear the drumming in the far away thick forest, but if one does not know the source of the drumming, one needs not to venture into it.

In a far away village, there lived a tall, slim and hardworking man, called Mr Kájolà Sùúrù. He was born and bred in Àfisùúrú village. His wife’s name was Àbíké, a short, fat, and hardworking woman with diastema. Mr Kájolà’s poverty aggravated to the extent that he could not cater for his family any more. This state of abject poverty made him to have a rethink. One day, he called out his wife. “Àbíké! I know the stress we are passing through this day, and I don’t want us to continue with this. An adage says: ‘work is an antidote of poverty’ I need to make a change”, Kájolà enthused. After he had had a conversation with his wife, he set out for a journey he himself didn’t know the destination. The journey he embarked on took him a month. As he embarked on the journey, he found himself in a thick forest. This forest was so dark during the day that you could hardly see the sky. While in the forest, he hunted for a game. This served as his source of sustenance in the forest. During his sixth day in the forest, he saw a man, who dressed in farming attire. On his shoulder was a hole and head was firewood and hand was a cutlass. “Who are you?” the farmer asked. “I am a wanderer from a far-a-way village, and I am searching for farming job”, Mr Kajola replied. When the farmer heard this, he smiled and moved closer to him. “There is no problem. I am Mr Kòsólú Anímásahun. Your problem is solved”, Mr Kòsólú replied with a smiling face.

The next day, Mr Kájolà was taken by Mr Kòsólú to Mr Ayélabówó, a famous rich man in Ajé land. Mr Ayélabówó used to hire people to work on his farms for a year. After a year he would pay them their dues. Mr Kájolà promised his boss to be hardworking and trustworthy. As he started working, Mr Kòsólú had interest in him and he started encouraging him.

Having spent many years with Mr Kòsólú, Mr Kájolà remembered his family and revealed his intention to his boss. The next day, his boss called on him. “Mr Kájolà, I know you are planning to go home to see your family, and I know you must get all your emoluments. But before you leave for your village, I have this advice for you: “Do you like to be paid for your service or have my advice that will sustain you throughout your life”, the boss asked. Mr Kájolà left his boss’ room in confusion. He meditated on these questions for a week before he approached his boss for a reply.

It was December 23 of that year when everybody was planning for Christmas and New Year celebration, it touched Mr Kájolà to the marrow to the extent that he was desperate to see his family. As he replied his boss to give him a piece of advice, he wanted to give him, the boss was overjoyed. “Young man, I have three advices for you: 1. When you are going back home, do not take a shortcut; you can sleep over and set out for your journey the second day. 2. Do not interfere in what you don’t know anything about. 3. Do not take action when you are angry” the boss advised.

A week after Mr Kájolà had accepted his boss’ advice, he received a loaf of bread as a gift for himself and his family. He then set out for the journey. As he embarked on the journey, he got to a point where two roads meet. Here, he remembered his boss’ first advice of the danger of taking short cut. He therefore planned to pass the night in a village. When he got to the village, he introduced himself to an old man he approached, and the man allowed him to pass the night in his ahéré- a kind of hut built on the farmland in the rural areas of West Africa. Around 2 a.m, a noise from the neighborhood woke Mr Kájolà from his slumber and he attempted to open the door to see the cause of the noise. But before he could move out, he remembered his boss’ second advice that warned him not to interfere in what he did not know anything about. He quickly woke up the old man he passed the night with and explained what the cause of his inquisitiveness was. The old man told him that he should thank his creator because had it been that he opened the door and moved out, he would have been killed by the notorious madman that used to shout in the village in the mid night. The old man narrated to him many lives that had been wasted by the madman. Mr Kájolà continued his journey when the day broke out.

As Mr Kájolà moved closer to his village, he saw from afar, a young man and his wife. His wife was giving the young man a hug. In annoyance, he wanted to kill him because he saw him as somebody having an affair with his wife. He therefore brought out a gun. As he was trying to load the gun, the third advice given by his boss rang in his hearing. “Do not take action when you are angry”, he said quietly. As he moved closer, the wife ran out to meet him. She hugged and kissed him. She collected the loaf of bread from his hand and they all entered their room. After some minutes, the wife explained to him that ever since he left her for an unknown destination, the pregnancy he left her with was the young man he was hugging. She explained further that whenever he missed him, the only solution she had was to find company in her son. Immediately he listened to his wife’s explanation, he hugged the son and ordered his wife to bring the bread. He narrated to his wife that throughout his stay with his boss what he compensated him with was the loaf of bread he brought home. He therefore decided to break the bread. As he was trying to share the bread, he saw a parcel inside it, and when he opened it, he saw a cheque of 50 million naira. Immediately he saw this, he fell on his feet and started thanking God. He later realised that had he not taken to his boss’ advice, he would have collected that humongous sum of money and landed in the hands of the armed robbers and the famous madman he wanted to see where he passed the night. He later told his wife and son the danger of taking shortcut.

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The Rare Amnesty

Kolawole Mathew Ogundipe

No amnesty can be
Likened to this
The amnesty in His name
And in His sacrifice on the cross
No amnesty can be
Likened to this
The amnesty in our true confession
And in our acceptance of Him!
No amnesty can be
Likened to this
The amnesty that is not
Based on tribe
No amnesty can be
Likened to this
The amnesty that is unfettered
By nepotism
No amnesty can be
Likened to this
The amnesty that is not
Based on a certain few
Number of people;
“But to as many as did receive HIM”,
Have this kind of amnesty!
The limitless amnesty
Similar not to that of the world!

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Terez Peipins

The gladiolas, mostly red,
tended with precise care,
dug up each year, planted again,
stand sparse
barely fill the round bed,
the Russian flowers.
my father learned in Siberia,
in contrast to mother’s dense
blooms in front
where drivers stop to stare.
Not even one year out,
they’re both gone,
Weeds grow tall and thick,
inch out any remains.

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Kehinde Olaitan Onike

“Her beads, while she dances don’t go in sync with other maidens’
She doesn’t whine her waist like she used to
Why does it feel as though her beauty is fading?
Are you sure she’s still a virgin?”

These were the words of the Elders.

“What’s with the constant fever?
Why is she looking all bloated suddenly?
Is morning sickness not a sign of pregnancy?
You better talk to your daughter!”

Those were the words of her father.

“Aduke mi, What have you gotten yourself into?
Who is the father of the child?
Why jeopardize your career because of 5-minute fun?
You are supposed to be married in a fortnight, remember?”

Her mother couldn’t stop the endless questioning.

“I didn’t wish for this to happen
My virginity I swore to you to protect
But it was taken from me without my consent
I told you but you didn’t believe me”.

Those were Aduke’s words that wasn’t heard while she lived.

“We were all decently dressed
Yet, we were devoured
We were in the church
Yet, they say we stayed out late
We stayed home
And they still found themselves a flimsy excuse for doing it
Some of us spoke up
Yet, justice was not served
Some kept it to themselves
And it did more damage than we imagined
Just like Aduke, I and many others
We’ve died in many ways than I can count”.

These are my words, our words and our choice that it should be voiced.

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Indrani Datta

Destiny! Destiny! Destiny
O destiny! don’t kill me
So mercilessly.

The sky is full of clouds
That are too heavy to bear.
Give me some hopes.

I wanna hear the sound
Of raindrop at midnight,
Wanna see the charming
fountain that falls into the
sandy brook.

There is still more to feel,
O the humming of bees!
So melodious!

O destiny spreads your another
hand of prosperity, there are
still thousand pages are left
to write a great poesy.

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Reviewed by Sabuj Sarkar (Editor)
Designed and Published by Akshay Kumar Roy (Editor)

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শুদ্ধি চাই ভিলেন পাশাপাশি উষ্ণতার সান্নিধ্যহীনতা ২১’শের নগর জীবন ভোরের কণ্ঠে চাতক পাখি …
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