Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.

Tag Archive for ‘Nemine Funge-owei Michael’

This damsel of sorek/ poetry/ By Funge-owei Michael Nemine

This damsel of sorek When she passes all that remains are lapses of men once planted in the hills of mambilla contending with ageless pillars. Because she rows doom with this bulky cumulus of weaponry forged from blood and clay; the shape of a full moon. This weaponry, it is even weak and fluffy like blue band flogged with sweet, white granules. Yet, us they conjure and clueless we become […]

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Wayfarer/ poem/ by Funge-owei Michael Nemine

WAYFARER They said he fell in the shores of Agbana1 the runner with no tracks wayfarer they said something left when his shadow turned to miserable memories blown into forcados2 something like scattered happiness. Those things his footsteps painted on our faces, the intermittent drawing back of lips. They said death came on a certain day and all they could salvage was that exhausted shell that lost the gift of […]

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Be Naked/ poetry/ By Nemine Funge-owei Michael

Be naked just like the corners of a polished moon. bounce like rain drops feet on the top of this mahogany. carve holes in your ossicles and let those lips gather men like flood. Toss these underwears. flex this public muscles like Leah’s dark tail. be naked just like the other animals the night might come just. Your breast in calabash genital in dark smoky clays buttocks on sterilized tables […]

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Ghosts on the loose/ series/ chapter 5

The sun rays flicked slowly, bringing in a feel of safety. Toma laid on the bed, eyes folded, hands clenched and lips tightened and drawn-out. It was how he folded in Maa’s arms in the night, to be hard, hard enough to repel the fear. I smiled and touched his lips, pushing them back gently. They melted, relaxing into a tender plane. Then he wiped his lips with his tongue […]

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Ghosts on the loose/ series/ chapter 4

Kolokuma sat on the white plastic chair and felt a blistering liberty; a looseness amidst the heat within him, like feathers flaunting in the wind. He rolled the sweats away from his pale hand with his thumb and thought of the next morning; covering a few more kilometers and sacking more calories. The morning was frosty. It kept his sportswear moist a little longer. He hummed larghetto melodies and watched […]

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Ghosts on the loose/ Series/ Chapter 3

A day before. Weird kolokuma sat on the cane chair kept permanently at the entrance of his log cabin and made the sound of different gunshots with his lips. It was his way of telling his personal account of the war. Nobody liked him because he was a demon, a demon inside the body of a fifty-something year old albino- because demons do not have voices, they only compel people […]

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