I am an African woman
if you pierce my veins
you will see me bleed
red—Black—gold and green

I am an African woman
I call me by my own name
you would be foolish
in daring not to do the same

I am an African woman
is the air that I breathe
when my time comes—bury me at sea
let the tears of my ancestors —wash over me

Traces of the way we were

Have you ever watched somebody you love die? Real life feels surreal when you witness your beloved become lifeless.

On a dark December night, I stood in the hospital alongside my siblings at my mothers bedside. We hung our heads in sombre silence. Mum lay in a coma in the…

A poem

Nobody wants a writer who writes like me.

I am Black mixed with Black;
cinnamon and ginger;
water and flora and blood and melanin.
Through a poem I write across the night sky
like a shooting star over a rainforest,
I live a thousand lives—
forever moonlighting.

Nobody wants a…

A poem

The human heart beats on like a drum playing to life’s rhythm.

When disappointments come thick and fast
and you’re the chosen one but chosen last.
You might be falling in love for the first time with your heart whole
or trying again with it scratched and broken—
on the edge…

A prose poem

I’m steady yawning, day is dawning. A slum flower breaking out of the cracks appearing in the sun-kissed, blushing night. I’m stirring from forgettable dreams of this ghetto arse Earth. My cheeks are lit by scattered twilight as I rise to the melody of Septembers swan-song shaking the sleep away…

An ode

Your ink assembles into timeless nouns and verbs on pages.
You reveal yourself to me in stages.
You are wild — like a beautiful night unfolding full of midnight sun,
dusk to dawn moon-rise and twilight phases.
You take my breath away over and over again
and confront me with…

A poem

Hello September,
how long has it been?

Feels like I’ve been missing you since I don’t know when.
Hold me in your arms like a long lost friend,
I thank each star I’m here to see you again.
Ask me any question and I’ll tell you no lies.
Make me no promises, spare…

A love poem

I dance with my sons.
Melodies sway us along.
Between our arms — there’s no space for heartbreak songs.

During the sojourn of hellish days,
we dance through the heartache and worry all around.
The weight of the world
tries to bring us down, down, down.
But between our arms…

In this paradox of living — we could all be heroes and villains all at once on any given day

We — humans; human genders; human sex; humankind — are in the thick of a global pandemic that continues to disturb and claim lives. Although the threat is indifferent to, travel bans, vaccine mandates, ‘vaxxed’ or ‘unvaxxed’ status, the hero or villain narratives constructed in needlessly convoluted sentences — have…

D Abboh

Hey there - I'm D. Writer/Storyteller | Creative Non-Fiction | Poetry. I know a little Tai Chi - but my Kung Fu is weak. Email: dabboh76@outlook.com

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