Three Poems | Akor Emmanuel Oche

Today we present three poems by Young Nigerian Poet; Akor Emmanuel Oche. “For Silas” “SUI (is a dark poem on the) CIDE” and “The World is…” Enjoy the read.


For Silas 
(half way through the small city of God)
i slip daily into your
cubicle, innocence, where
a thousand years of treasures
lay waste on the lines of
your offerings for island,
awaiting, all, the palm-print of a
sailor in search of knowledge.
of day, of night of sequences
and the texture of the waters
that hover about in the great beyond.
at your feet of words i sleep
silently in songs, sung by
blinking eyelids, ridding the
pages of your gospel into orgasm.
the best there is, offers my eyes,
the eyes of a loyal worshiper
presenting supplications
with poems as totems.

SUI (is a dark poem on the) CIDE

I am a shattered

body searching for

my broken pieces

in long walks

and creeping darkness.

At twenty everything

is a search

for sunlight, a

longing for truth.

I am a lost

body that wish to

be found floating

ashore a turbulent

Sea. Some said

SUICIDE is a poem—

a dark poem—

that conjures a spell

with enough pleasure

to cure all sorts of pain.

I am a hurting body,

my scars are inept,

bleeding from within.

I want to touch

the finger of healing

and tell her

how much I miss her palms,

how much I miss her massage

on cold nights when depression

is an unwanted lover too close

to send away.

I will sing this

dark song before

the appropriate hour;

i will recite this poem

whose title is void and silence.

The Word Is…

The word is an egg.

The world is a child

swimming in amniotic


tender & soft.

The world was once a word,

on the lips of a lonely god.


Akor Emmanuel Oche writes poetry, Essays and Blogposts. He is the Curator of Winner of the GREEN AUTHOR PRIZE FOR POETRY 2017 and shortlisted poet for the Babishai Poetry Prize 2016. He lives in Lokoja Nigeria where he works as C.E.O of OCHEBOOKS PUBLISHING.


Eseberuo, Do not Despair






do not weep over
a pot that is broken
nor grieve for a petal that withers

I may not bring back your lover
nor mend your broken heart
but I bring comfort

in the knowledge that
it is the way of things
for a pot to be broken
for a petal to wither

for a lover to go
paving way for a superior one
the one who comes after him
be patient and do not despair

i once lost a pot
it got broken
all my love in it
and i waited.