League Day 12;HUSSANI ABDULRAHIM VS JOSIAH AKPAN.

LIVE: HUSSANI ABDULRAHIM VS JOSIAH AKPAN

NOTE;
1) The judges decision takes 70% of the judgement while well wishes and lovers of poetry votes takes 30%.

2) Upon no circumstance must any of the above mentioned poets vote.

3) The contestants are urged to invite friends to Vote for them using the comment section of this post. No rule exempts you from canvassing for votes.

5) Voting lasts for 18 hours from commencement of Duel.

6) Vote using I VOTE POEM 1 or I VOTE POEM 2

7) Results would be uploaded briefly after the closure of votes.

Good luck to the wordlords.. LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!

THEME: BROKEN WALLS

HUSSANI ABDULRAHIM

Title; HOW TO PAINT A COUNTRY 

I know, green-white-green is the banner, 

But when you tell an artist to paint Nigeria, 

He informs you that there's no place for colours, 

Save tattered rainbows whose bunched up skins sing of chaos. 

First, he dips his sweaty hands in a broth overnight, 

As though in a bid to rinse off the pigment of his body. 

And he drowns his heart in still waters, 

So that when the ritual begins, 

Emotions won't get entwined with ethics. 

Then with eyes devoid of love, 

He paints the rowdy scene of clustered caricatures; 

Matchstick figures burdened in gloomy djallabeyahs. 

And a mega phone through which a dreamy preacher brays: 

Love thy brother, oh son of Adam!  

He then crowns these smudges 

With the towering, fitting skull of Gen. Murtala Mohammed, 

And the final pause of his brush, almost invincible, 

Was where a bullet pierced him on a jummat day. 

In the end, what the artist gives you 

Is a conglomerate of telling scars 

Reminiscent of a diseased country 

Still searching her swollen feet in a swampy splodge. know, green-white-green is the banner, 

But when you tell an artist to paint Nigeria, 

He informs you that there's no place for colours, 

Save tattered rainbows whose bunched up skins sing of chaos. 

First, he dips his sweaty hands in a broth overnight, 

As though in a bid to rinse off the pigment of his body. 

And he drowns his heart in still waters, 

So that when the ritual begins, 

Emotions won't get entwined with ethics. 

Then with eyes devoid of love, 

He paints the rowdy scene of clustered caricatures; 

Matchstick figures burdened in gloomy djallabeyahs. 

And a mega phone through which a dreamy preacher brays: 

Love thy brother, oh son of Adam!  

He then crowns these smudges 

With the towering, fitting skull of Gen. Murtala Mohammed, 

And the final pause of his brush, almost invincible, 

Was where a bullet pierced him on a jummat day. 

In the end, what the artist gives you 

Is a conglomerate of telling scars 

Reminiscent of a diseased country 

Still searching her swollen feet in a swampy splodge.

JOSIAH AKPAN

Title; BROKEN WALLS

We have seen hungry men

Satisfy their colossal hunger

By building palaces for others six feet below

With materials gotten from broken walls

Only to see themselves years later

As neighbours to the tenants they created

Bloods spilled

Heads shattered

Lives wasted

Chains broken

Chains broken by people who end up putting 

A far stronger chain on us

And then the process repeats itself over

Dancing to the frenzy beats of instability

Hear me,

The greatest undoing of those who broke down the walls

Was the bitter fact

That they always builded a greater wall

An incentive for a bitter cycle.

ENJOY!