Road to Christmas

AUTHOR/WRITER: Ajani oyindamola Meet the writer here..   I packed my bags quickly as Baami kept screaming and questioning every one of us, “why is your maami bag too big”, “why is your brother not moving quickly”. He complained about everything as the chilly harmattan wind blew against our window, awaking the sweet fragrance of


WRITER/AUTHOR: Oche Viktoh Meet the writer here..   And as the rear door of the black bulletproof limousine was slowly swung open, the resounding screams quickly made way to his ears as he stealthily peered through the open space to stare at the crowd that gallantly cheered his name.  Immediately, smiles adorned the face of Emeka


AUTHOR/WRITER: Halimah Ganiyu   I love mama, she is beautiful very beautiful, she looks like an angel and I think God sent her to me. It’s only mama and me, we are a team, we do everything together and no one is allowed between us. I am not allowed to talk to anyone unless mama tells


AUTHOR/WRITER: Ellawrites   The smell of burning cigarette mixed with sweat filled the air. It was a cold January morning and Leticia laid semi naked in bed. Beside her a young man wearing only boxer briefs with cigarette in his mouth, stared into the empty space quietly brooding. The man, dark and lanky, with lots of

Rock Paper and Scissors

POET: Oju Omamogho   This love is like rock paper scissors Cause every day, I will cut through your paper walls Taking strips To form paper clips With which I will Hang your heart like a practice bag for my rock fists Still you will embrace me In your dictionary Where U and I are meant


AUTHOR/WRITER: Bamgbose Ibrahim   [Part 1] It was on a fateful Thursday evening while I was heading home from work. The weather was cloudy and quite breezy showing that the heavens would soon let out a heavy downpour. After I’ve driven for about 5mins from Asokoro junction towards AYA, I met a very horrible traffic gridlock

The Broken’s Wish

AUTHOR/WRITER: Abdulhameed Olasunkanmi Tajudeen Meet the writer here..   My heart flipped when you called my names. Sometimes you are not there and I think I am insane. I crave for the touch , it feels like work. I crave for the pain , oh my, this is a shame I think I am truely insane.


AUTHOR/WRITER: AJANI OYINDAMOLA (Left Handed Poet) I remembered that morning Baami showed me the picture of my lover in Lagos, he flashed his yellow teeth at me as I clinged to the paper like it will fly away into the forest. “Err! Apinke! That is Alao, the son of oga teacher, the one that taught

About me

Nimota Ideraoluwa

Nimota Ideraoluwa

I am Teriba Nimota Ideraoluwa, I was born in Ogun state, into a family of eight, I'm the second child of the family and the first female child. Anike is a name my mum calls me whenever I'm sad , Anike is my Oriki (praise name). continue here...