By Mubarak Said
And anything that seems to
have taken a new face dies.
I couldn't see the people that worship
this country to seek mercy
for a soul that dwells in the lake of sins.
I couldn't feel what a hunger brought
to our stomachs when the food is a
synonym to lost. I couldn't see
patriotism, but I learn to recite Kursiyu
whenever my mouth refuse to talk.
In our town a poor man has to look like
an abandoned bunch of grass.
And since I'm a boy, poverty is yet
to visit the room beneath the pillow
I lay my head on. A day & the night
can't often follow the same path.
And I realized a politician is a ghost.
I then pick a Quran to read any chapter
That birth a country and any verse
with a garden, a river and a lake.
Mubarak Said TPC XII is an undergraduate from the department of Biology, Gombe State
University, a 3rd runner-up—poetry category of the 2022 Bill Ward Prize for Emerging Writers.
He is a member of Gombe jewel writers association and Hilltop creative arts foundation. His
works are forthcoming and published in many literary magazines as imspired magazine, World Voices
Magazine, Icefloe Press, Literary yard, Beatnik Cowboy, Piker press magazine, Teen Literary
Journal, ILA magazine, Icreatives review, the yellow house magazine, Pine Cone Review,
Synchronized chaos, Susa Africa, madswirl magazine, Applied Worldwide, Opinion Nigeria,
Today Post, Daily Trust, Daily Companion and elsewhere.
Hot Pot Magazine 