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Nike Adesuyi

Nike Adesuyi

Adesuyi is a Nigerian poet, and a member of WRITA. She is a lover of the word in its numerous manifestations. She engages the word privately herself in poetry and prose and hones the word into shape in her paid job as editorial manager of a thriving publications company in Lagos. Her poems have been published in several anthologies.

 Three Poems
  Avoiding Hell

{For Pope Poet the 1st whose unction broke my dam of words
& to the memory of Ebereonwu – who cut so close to the bone on Directors’ Cut.}

So, here I am Pope Poet,
evading hell, melting to your wheedle
like fired butter in a pan

Talents are not for wasting,
Like vagrant bullets seeking ignobility
At our police death-points…

So stand I upon my Sinai
Irradiated by the wisdom of Moses
Receive my Zen-commandments
Timed to transmute destiny before queens

Waywardly had I wandered like Israel
Today, I undo rebellion’s harness
I unjinx the words away without official leave

Screaming from lost places in cyberspace:
I bounce over blame; I escape hell with my poems
So my will crumples Pope Poet,

Eats the communion pie at your vaulting altar-
I Progenitor of Victors, wearer of Nike shoes,
I will wear the word on my sleeves
For the world to swoon at

I am what you say I am: the beauty of jewelled words
Coasting homewards to the sensuous peak of lights

7th May 2007


To Whom Grace is Given

To whom grace is given
Is greenery expected.

I wind grace - like stringed wool-
From the Singer* of inspired songs

I draw beauty like water-
Out of the hollow howling with impatient words

I dip deep into my depths and fetch myself
I strike the rock of refreshing

Grace jewels my hands, kohls my eyes, mints my breath…
Hide me O Word from the error of Moses

I drink of greedily of grace
My mouth is satisfied with green words.

* A brand of sewing machine

7th May 2007



Really Inspired

Not there with you in body but in spirit

I am the space bordering your consecrated scrawl,
whitened by the celestial fever of your songs.

From the dismal ditch of P8,
I lift-off into orbit and take courses in new kind of maths

I am beyond the uncertain
certainties of pluses and minuses

A truth known when time began
burnishes my heart like vinegar, brass:

Reality is more inspired than fiction.


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