If you could write to God, what would it be? Would it be gratitude?A question you’ve been afraid to ask?An accusation?A confession whispered at 2AM?Or silence, folded into paper? ArtingArena invites you to take the risk. We are calling on poets, storytellers, essayists, believers, doubters, the angry, the grateful, the Read more
Foreword By Oyin Bimbo, Founder & Head Editor, ArtingArena Get a copy! COLLABORATE / JOIN US Are you a writer, artist, or dreamer? Submit to us or contact our Support Team.
Behind every story, poem, and artwork you will see on ArtingArena is a team of passionate creatives dedicated to one vision — taking African art to the world. Led by Oyin Bimbo, our Founder and Head Editor, the team includes Oletu Oghenenyore C and MK Kuol as Editors, with Auwal Read more
ArtingArena’s Chapbook Contest Short list of 10 Note: It is in no particular order.
ADDRESS CONCERNING THE ARTINGARENA CHAPBOOK CONTEST Greetings, dear poets, writers, and enigmas. This is to inform you that the deadline for our chapbook competition has been extended to October 20, 2023. Our judges have started reading the brilliant entries received so far and we are glad to grant you more Read more
DUTY I After Layli Long Soldier As werecline trudgethrough dawn through dusk through timewe conjure we calibrate we cartograph we carveto probe to unmask to propitiate to justify to unleashthe despair the despair the despair the despairwe invoke we shrink we skininto bodies as souvenirsferried to places Read more
About the Interviewer JOEL OYELEKE studies Literature in English at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife. He is a poet, literary enthusiast, God addict, and curator of Poetry Village, OAU. Author of THE THEM IN ME (Direwords, 2022). Co-author of LET ME GRIEVE (ArtingArena Magazine, 2023). He has works published on IHRAF, Read more
I taste the world a gore-stricken soul, feebling in the things that clang relief…
…we were all running about, trying to get away from the acid rain that was pouring on us from…
i start this poem with what I believe
could quietus the grieving dust, since it is an abomination to call me a poet…
it in the heaven’s stomach;
you see a glitter that makes your
hope grow beards…
Ode To The Man Who Leaves Before The Wake Of The Sun & Emerges At The Sleep Of the Sun After Reading Gbenga Adeoba Praise to the man who held mein the moments of my first cry—the gentle pull of tender lips shrills. The man with pocket-full of night tales& Read more
Behold anon not quicklythe slave boy in shacklesgiving his daily meal to the beggar’s ladwith a sickly but healthy smile Look please don’t glanceas he rushes to help the market womenwith their heavy basket of fruitwithout a thought to steal or receive See as he runs errands by and byfor Read more
I blame not my shedding leavesThose that leave without notice Some people are like that Deft artist in the hood of artPainted me a living naked tree, leafless * * * Like the branch, some are in this lifeCould be a brother or your wife They branch before the Read more
My Feverish Pen was wallowing in its misery,small enough to subdue its melancholy,bright enough to throw into reliefthe dark plastic that cluttered it. i heard that much rage was crawlingtogether with its flooded ink trying to fetch fresh ink and wet its tip that yearns to bleed words of relief. Read more
Within the stillness of the darkest night,
When all the world is lost in peaceful sleep,…
IMy country is a democratic mantra in imbroglioThat rapes goodness, molests peace,Chastises orderliness, mocks oneness,Glorifies chaos and spills bullets on the vulnerables. IIGreen – White – GreenGreen – the greener pastures we all seek elsewhereWhite – dusk that leaves us stained by theblood of infinity victims. IIIMy country is a Read more
1. THAT DOUBT Like us in our heart, we know,Not to believe the world,We once believed a long time ago. Like us in our lament,We say more than we can chew,Even when the world looks nice,Not hunting us, we still have that doubt. 2. TRUTH IN A BELIEF Why do Read more
i scribble in my face, my father_ who found strands of my hair in the teeth of my comb, i remembered when he sewn in the heap in my yard, roses, bougainvilleas, hibiscuses with their sprouts and petals of reds & pinks. but that night, he breathed hope into the Read more
Description: Poetry Format: PDF Publisher’s Note I am glad, and it is indeed a great privilege to have read this collection of poetry. I can’t be prouder as well to have a part in the success of this book and also in the vivid growth of his bard with the Read more
Excuse me sir/ma, calm down first. Why have you turned yourself into a lion/lioness? Just why? Why have you suddenly become unapproachable? Listen, life doesn’t work that way. It is often been said that no one is an island of knowledge and yes, no one knows it all. We keep Read more
my cycle tube was hurt, i had to go the old style.long kilometres, steady, my foot finally said hito the farm. the sun became angry as soon as my machete kissfew weeds, the season commencing, again. suddenly, the sunny sky spoke in tongues asthe firmament strike a chord, it was Read more
The hand of the sun was not heavy enoughTo light the pack of dreams I shelteredIn the manor of my mind.I scribble on some leavesWhat I want tomorrow to tellOf me. Yesterday is late, it diedAt the zero-zero hours, yet,I still burn unperturbedA candle, surviving in the wind.
O Amon,I desire you to smile for meCrouching in my arm like an eggIn a nest, cackling to my faceWhile the sun passes byTo roost. My garden is barrenThe first I cultured didn’t blossomBad soil, no manure, and light. & you, but I fearIf another farmer has come earlier.Am jealous Read more
the mirrors on the wall didn’t tell us who were
but who we ought to be
…
I hope I write out Soyinka’s eyes too
Since I can’t operate his heart.
Why I Write… There were dark momentsDarker than molten obsidianThat darkens the seasonsAnd made me act dark Solace couldn’t offer solacePeace had a hurricane in itJoy was feigned on dysphoriaAnd I hoped beyond Hope So I bare my soul to my penAnd the pitiful thing criedAnd did bleed all on my scrollThat pains Read more
Every day, the workers remembered how Jonah treated them when he was the company’s manager.Though Jonah was quiet and dull but he was passionate and considerate. He was also law abiding.Whenever problem arise, he would call a meeting and they will tackle it together.However, those days, they hated him because Read more
Cocktail finish in a hurryI was still famished.Dinner simple yet not set.Broiled novels; old literature husk.Sour ink; notes pasta.With a glass of dictionaryTo step down. I took a chair, at the hornOf my dining (writing) tableTo dine, punning with words.I forgot to toast the crumbWith figure of speech toaster.Supper wasn’t Read more
We are happy to announce our latest publication, our third issue of the LIGHTENING AFRICA publication –Black Is Beautiful. As we have repeatedly claimed, this is our best publication yet, and the reason we’d make such a claim over and over is embedded in the PDF file. Use the download Read more
…I was the Handsomest Apollo, dear Artemis would always
say, “oh god of beauty”…
When erosion comes the way
The weak soil, it swims away
The irony of life bang them till they cum
But for us, we make them bum…