November 6, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Geraint Rowland photo



Adamu Usman Garko




Parch Not My Folk



Choke I was then, yesterday

Inlet my heart cottage picks

Lonely I was then, a terrain

If misery comes, grieve ring me

For some untilled smouldering dim

If fury arrives like a scanty

I will drink all clamour, dumb wherewithal


Vast errands through debris

Caskets of bird sleeping on trees

And a child sucking his fingers

As a subdue to his mother’s

a cloak roaming around my

Naked body is a hedgehog

is there a mystical hut to know God?


My face doesn’t know water

So also my heart had no privilege

Bewails and mucky to see stars in night

Mucky to see sun in a day

When it’s night, i thought I brisk in tomb

And when it’s day, I thought it’s night

There’s no threshold to a faggot


And she arrives like a tapestry

And she arrives to cleanse all filthy

And she arrives as a moon tight to a window

From tumbling to leapfrogging

Carnages craven her bulk

All her parts are stars of a knoll

And a raiment of velvet heeding to a broken winged boy!





What A Life!!



It’s down-pouring cats and dogs

No leapfrogging for joy


Pigeons fountained into the air

Left on a hill and dry


What a life!


Neither father nor mother

Neither sugar nor butter

Neither feather nor further


Penury is the only friend his

World doesn’t care to give him a candy


Others read prose

He reads poetry


What a life!


Head not for a hill.


What a life!





Where Are You



Why, sweety where are you?

which darkened, even sun is,

that your presence may ray

all those blacksmith white

may be your here may be ’em.


where are you, mommy and

daddy of muses that inspiration may be ocean of

Pen, to you silence may hush

it be, and timid may build

a country with hands.


I had a damsel in me my

hand blurry like blurry stone

that money may never try

 to its worth it shall peculiar

be a dream to “riches” of coins, of knowledge and wise


nor ever by mistake try my

coward, brag how serenade

bloom the air sings your word

how dew may fall in your

grassy world that apricot may

be pluck to make my mouth

lake it is filled with ocean of

your saliva


Here my legs lay upon a life

a cushion beneath it, thus

farewell your mouth opened


Where are you

Then death may be

so terrible to grill you

that muses of mine

shall never write

not for you!






Adamu Usman Garko

Adamu Usman Garko was born on January 2002, lives in Gombe, Gombe State, a student of jss3 but currently waiting for school resumption to be in ss1. A gallant young writer, lofty voice from northern Nigeria, he knows the world will be gaiety for some years. He writes short stories and poems.

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