July 31, 2015 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION




Oyin Oludipe

I attest to the tyranny of want in all places, to the tragedy it sets on the stage of Mind. It seems that man has more to scratch from earth than life and water. Only few transcend the bound, they are herald to the dearth, the lost passions and lost presences. I write in memory of the rupture. These poems are dedicated to world heroes past, forgotten.






Raptures sped on

And I tore no tear for you.

The only eye of heed stays

In a swollen brittle house—


A staggering deity shed.

A grim potsherd pleats it

Like a faceless, marooned feast

Broken far from the tribe


I forsook it moons ago

When, one rainy night,

I stormed the eaves to find

Scars on your heart. And lone.









Beyond mangled

Shadows of broken veils, it strove

A bolt of warmth far off the furrowed all;

Vapours, pore-breaching, of the first

Swollen beam.


The morning’s tender glance


Droops above the yolk serene, its

Writhing brush of bloodshot glare

And the heavy thrust of a broadening void

In weak recession of that glance.


O how cold it drew—stifled echoes


In twine rustles; birdlimes glaze on

Dim wings…it drew

A vacant reed, a brittle spine








Oyin Oludipe

Oyin S. Oludipe is a creative professional, editor and literary artist. A Wordsmith, he is a young and rising Nigerian writer looking to positively influence Africa and the wider world.


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