Poetic Nikaah is the story of two young African Muslims; Bilal Oyatomi and Aneezah Cisse. It is told in three interchanging perspectives between friends.   Read Reviews

The first perspective is that of Bilal who grows up in a slum in Kwara, Nigeria through a sad and mysterious childhood. He carries fragmented memories of his beastly and diabolical father. Bilal can barely remember how he used to beat up his mother until a day he gets arrested and taken away by unknown men in uniform. When he asks about the whereabouts of his father, his mother would answer with mysterious proverbs and then go silent.  Bilal carries his childhood memories with uncertainty and bitterness till his path crosses that of Aneezah Cisse, daughter of a wealthy Hausa-Fulani.

Aneezah’s perspective features desperate craving for freedom. The life she knew was barricaded of religious restrictions and parental policing. In school, she feels the liberty to explore new fashion trends and spend alone time with a boy.

Bilal and Aneezah becomes very fond of each other; sharing pasts, laughter and infatuative moments until the overstepped the boundry of Zeenah. What now stands between them is beyond years of religion and intertribal war; it includes the lots of things that can be said about love without words.

Sir Nas perspective features his untold feelings for Aneezah Cisse, his mother’s love for Fulani ladies and his father’s indifference. The story takes its twist when Sanusi finally expressed interest in Aneezah. Bilal gives up on his romance escapades for reasons coupled with his other life adversities and leaves for Lagos for his mother’s surgery. He doesn’t return for years leaving Aneezah with a broken heart. She finally agrees to marry Sanusi after so much societal and parental pressure.  

Bilal’s mother’s death brings him closer to Allah, and lands him in a perspective of life. With a second chance at life, he was going to do things right when his path crosses another Muslim girl named Rhodiyah. He asks her to marry him the right way while hoping for a happily ever after.

 

Finally! I am an Alumnus of the book Rid me of This by Aisha Oredola. For many reasons too personal to blog about, I have been unable to concentrate on words, let alone read books. I guess I gained my freedom with this intelligently written story by Oredola…or in her language… I got ridded of this.
So here, I have decided to test my healing by writing a review of Rid me of This. Enjoy:

Kumbi, a young lover of knowledge, numbers and poetry finds herself in a darkly wealthy family with unreavelable skeletons in a cupboard. Growing up in the abyss kind of took away her abilty to show love and filled her with hatred and emptiness. For Kumbi, life was nothing but darkness, until she met some friends and circustances that unveiled her thirst for light.
 Rid me of this is the story of how she sorth liberation from the blackhole while searching for God.

 Something highly spectacular and conspicuous about this book is the writer’s knowledge of  diverse religion and cultures. How she managed to shuttle facts and languages from different tribes into one story still intrigues me.
From Kwame, I learned a lot about Ghanaian Delicacies – I know now that I should always ask that pork is not added to my Jambalaya. (A joke you’d get only after reading the book..lol)
Moreso, ‘Rid me of This’  is a delicious concoction of Hausa, Igbo and Yoruba customs and languages.

To my favorite character – eeem, sincerely, it’d be Uthman. Mehn! The strength of this dude was hyper-inspiring. How he got faced by sexual temptations and managed to survive won my heart completely. Beyond this, even though he got little help from Kumbi, he sort of single handedly saved his family from years-long misery and penury.
I must point out that there was a little lax somewhere in the middle of the story, however, the last quarter of the book picked up the pace and made the wait for action worthwhile. Who could have suspected that love was cooking – in the most unexpected of places, most unexpected of hearts.
I really hope a Kumbi ends up with Jamal, for their love, as described is pure and divine. After, the last page of the story, I kept turning over through the glossaries, asking for more... more of the love story between the two birds … Sincerely I wanted more… if only there’d be written a part two.
I shall end it here with some of my favorite excerpts from the book:


“To have life is one thing, to know the purpose is another. I have to find myself, by myself. I have to understand that here, on earth, if you don’t search, you won’t find. And if you do not search within yourself, you can never find what you’re looking for in someone else”

“ Fight what? A good warrior out to know some secrets about his opponents before selecting his weapons. Don’t you agree? But you’re inexperienced and young, you don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into by loving me”

“As humans, we have more similarities than differences and fail to search for knowledge of what we differ in. We push away light , to wallow in conflict because it is easier than actually digging deep…”

                                                                                               

             

                                                 

Poesy writers' group was created on the 8th of December, 2015 by Olalere Ibrahim, a passionate writer, graphic designer and Biochemist, who sought to bring together poets storytellers and literary incliners.

The group consists of over 90 writers who are harnessing their gifts. Amongst these writers are also bloggers, book reviewers, spoken word artists.

After three years of growing together, we bring to you the maiden edition of The Poesy Writers' Writing Contest.

The Writing contest seeks to push writers to create something out of nothing, seeks to empower them, make them slay writer's block, have them believing in their art and finally, make them creative beyond the surface.

The theme for the competition is Mental Health; Suicide & Depression.

Writers are to write revolving the theme.

Here are the RULES and GUIDELINES to participate.

1. The competition is ONLY open to poesy writers' group members.

2. One flash fiction and One poetry work is to be submitted by each writer.

3. Flash fiction of not more than 1,500 words & poetry of not more than 25 lines, are required.

4. Email your submissions (PDF ONLY) to poesywriters@gmail.com using 'The Poesy Writers Writing Contest 2019' as subject.

- Font size 14 in Times New Romans with Line space 1.5, is the requirement.

- Participants should include their names, pen name, Instagram handles, phone numbers and email in the body of the email

- Names and other details MUST NOT be included in the PDF File.

- For Enquiries. Subject should be 'Enquiries' to poesywriters@gmail.com

5. After sending in your entry, you will get an acknowledgement, then proceed to post your story and poem on Instagram tagging us @poesywriters using the hashtags #poesywriters #poesywriterswritingcontest2019

Note that your story and poem should be in picture format using Textgram or notepad or Canva or any other suitable text app.

(N:B THE PICTURE FORMAT SHOULD BE 200 WORDS PER PAGE FOR LEGIBILITY GIVEN THAT THE MAX WORD COUNT FOR FLASH FICTION IS 1500 WORDS. THE POEM SHOULD FOLLOW. STORY AND POEM MUST BE IN ONE POST BUT POEM SHOULD COME LAST.)

6. Follow us on Instagram @poesywriters for a valid entry.

7. Follow the three Judges and two spectators  @adilsaperture @tolutoludo @the_zyzah and  @pyrokardia @elumike_works

8. Submissions are open from the 10th of January 2019 and will close on the 1st February 2019

9. Voting session will commence on Instagram soon after the deadline. Each like will count as a vote but for a like to be valid, contestants and the voters must be following @poesywriters on Instagram

Dates of voting result, spectators results, top 10 shortlist, and then, top 3 winners according to the Judges' result, will be announced later, on the blog.

Check our social media platforms for more updates.

PRIZES

The winner - N15,000

First runner up - N10,000

Second runner up - N5,000

PLAGIARISM IS HIGHLY DISALLOWED. ANY PLAGIARISED WORK WILL BE DISQUALIFIED.

MEET OUR JUDGES

1. Adil Dad

Adil Dad was born in Preston, England.

In his early career, he was a student of design but soon discovered a burning passion for writing. To evoke feeling using words. His first book, Pick Me Up, debuted in 2017, and has received 5-star reviews, around the world. His work continues to have a massive impact on social media. He is currently the director of Leaf Publishing House, an independent publishing house in the United Kingdom.

Instagram: @adilsaperture

2. Tolu Akinyemi

Tolu Akinyemi was born in Ado-Ekiti, Nigeria and currently lives in the United Kingdom. He is an out of the box creative thinker, and a leader par excellence. Tolu Akinyemi is a business analyst and a financial crime consultant, as well as a Certified Anti-Money Laundering Specialist (CAMS), with extensive experience working with leading investment banks, and Consultancy firms. Tolu is a personal development and career coach and a prolific writer with more than Ten years' writing experience. He is a mentor to hundreds of young people. In March 2018, he was endorsed by the Arts Council England, as an exception talent.

Instagram: @tolutoludo

3. Azeezah Adeowu

Azeeza Adeowu is a graduate of Nasarawa State University, Keffi. She's a writer, a blogger and a book reviewer. Besides spending her leisure time to read, rant or watch movies; she loves staring at the trees,  with ice-cream dissolving in her mouth. She has won writing and reading competitions due to her growing love for literature. Also, she receives free books from publishers who need the publicity for their authors, because her reviews are gold. She currently lives in Ibadan,  Nigeria.

Instagram: @the_zyzah

MEET OUR SPECTATORS

1. Pyrokardia

Pyrokardia is a licensed physiotherapist who specialized in healing poetry. He is the best selling author of "A Beautiful Mess" and "Broken Wishbones and Empty Spaces"

When he isn't at the clinic, relieving patients of their pain, he can be found in a quiet corner, lost to a world of music and poetry. He recently released a new book "Cycle"

Instagram: @pyrokardia

2. Michael Emmanuel

Michael Emmanuel is a fiction writer who hopes to be committed to creative non-fiction. He was shortlisted for the 2017 edition of Okike Prize for Literature in the prose category, and his works have appeared on Brittle Paper and Kalahari Review. He finds graphics design and basketball quite engaging. Most recently, he won the Quramo Writers’ Prize 2018. He works as an editor at Creative Freelance Writers.

Instagram @elumike_works.

To PMB*

Poesy of Dwindling Faiths
 By Ibrahim Olalere

Coughs
Our tongues 're sour at accolades
15 million bones of support now solemnly ache
And some are sick of change
Dwindling in hope and faith

Scoffs
Like this time during  'Buhari's' days
A thousand naira can't win our hunger games
So we sigh at every derica of grains
See how much they cost and how much we make

In short
Our oily crave remains a loyal bane
While patriotism finally turned savage
Abductors, computer sorcerers are back again
Alas, Nigeria is in grieve, in pain



Its tough
Still believing in your name
The Messiah, Baba we used to Sai
Until the economy put us to shame
And some to grave


©Poesy 06-08-2016
University of Lagos

...by Ibrahim Olalere

When my heart suddenly talks

"Should I look stylish or nerdy?"

Maybe both

Like Michael

Which would you prefer?

My eyes fell shy

Perhaps of camera

"Oh...  my beard's too combed"

Maybe you wouldn't mind

If I look like Menk

"How about my collar?"

The gentle rumples at my sleeves

My ado! I remained a figurine

 "do I look too smart?

Or would you prefer an Obama style?"

With you standing abreast

 And me, panting for perfection

Just like you

So, I said cheese

Just like me...

*Still hoping she likes my style*

©poesy 2016

I sighed, twisting the lens of my camera with so much courage written boldly on my face. I used to love my life, but, something tragic happened about a week ago. We had heard the sky is falling today from an ultra-reliable source_ Well, it’ll need some paparazzi. So, fast and furiously, I belted my baggy trousers, laced my shoes, adjusted my collars and jumped into the streets. 

Increasing my pace on the rather empty ghetto, I soon crazily found myself drooling in anticipation of the alleged ‘end of the world’. Not a single person was courageous enough to step out on a day like this. except some fowls, goats, birds and I. Notwithstanding, the ignorant animals were having a whole lot of good time eating from the broken grocery shops and restaurants in the neighborhood, whilst I tested my camera on them.

Hey, I am Tade. Tade Ismail Philips. Friends call me T.I.P.  I studied Mass Communications at the prestigious University of Lagos. And that was me doing my job as a journalist. When 7 days ago, the worst bad news ever hit my TV screen that the world was finally coming to an end in a week, I was left in coma of thoughts. According to the scientists, the earth had reached its climax age and could no longer hold on to the weight of the sky. Hence, the sky shall fall, today.  At first, people refused to accept the broadcast as true, but as the D-day approached, reality began to dawn on every one of us. Mothers began to hug their children – goodbye hugs. I even heard some communities had organized candle nights to mourn their own imminent death; Nonsense! 

Speaking of God. By the final day, everyone seemed to be calm and moody. Earth seemed like a sphere of graves. The available Mosques and Churches weren’t enough to shelter the remorseful and panicking whole of humanity. So, all buildings were quickly renovated for religious purposes_ even places as profane as Bars, casinos and hotels. And approximately everyone was chanting words and praying for forgiveness. _ last chance to make things right.

 I held on to my camera, raising my head towards the sky. Then I started to jot my observations with breaths of compassion.  As if to punish my naughtiness, it began to pour rains upon earth. The bright day had faded and I could see the clouds mourning in gloomy faces. Swift beams of Lightning, spiritual roars of thunder and frosty winds; all fell upon me. I swallowed my spit and continued to take pictures upon pictures, acknowledging it was finally time! The news was true after all…

TO BE CONTINUED

Hey! It happened that I've got nothing to post today. And, weirdly, I'm glad about that.

Why? Ok... I'll just go straight to the point.

Having nothing to post today made me go into my vintage. Behold!  I found a short story  I'd really really love to share. So, here it is... It is titled 'In Sha Allah'

                                      IN SHA ALLAH

When the dawn brings back the call for subh and we must have just concluded our prayers, I'll turn to my beautiful wife with a sneaky gaze. I'll let her offer her every attention while I squeeze my lips into unspoken words,but cast down my gaze disappointedly like they are too heavy for my tongue . She'll rush her stare at me with no degree of declination, pestering with her eyebrows that I should speak. Yet, I will not.. I'll let her languish in utmost curiosity until her enthusiasm grows out of patience. "what has happened" - she'll whisper with her everly soothing voice;the same voice that rescues me when I drown in pools of frustration. She'll will inquire again with a breath of fear , but I still will not speak.

Except that I will reach for the english Qur'an gifted to congratulate our Nikkah two years ago...she'll watch as I flip it's pages to suratul Nisah. "Here, read" I'll command my obedient wife pointing firmly to the third verse.

Before she'll be done reading, I'll barge into my room and lock up the door without caring a bit of the result of my unkind action. Laying on bed, I'll recall what the verse says...

“"And if you fear that you shall not be able

to deal justly with the orphan girls then

marry (other) women of your choice, two or

three, or four; but if you fear that you shall

not be able to deal justly (with them), then

only one or (slaves) that your right hands

possess. That is nearer to prevent you from

doing injustice”"

I'll keep the malice for some time by refusing to let the door open even when she announces breakfast. In fact, I'll just lie there until time calls for zuhr. Then,I'll stealth towards the door and subhanallah!!

My darling wife will be at the door kneeling towards my meal. She'll shyingly stretch out a cup of tea towards my right arm while her other hand will assist the edge of hijab to wipe off the balls of tears running down her pretty face.

Here, I'll pull her weight away from the floor and beg her to quit the cry. Yet, I'll make her read the verse again. But this time, I'll be there to guide her through the lines. I'll swear to her by Allah that no man can be just with his wives. "I am contented with you", I'll gently opine and she'll return a dimpled smile that indeed she will be the only one.

However, I will know within myself that I would have proceeded in getting a brand new wife if not for her weeping objection.

Miss Sopheeyah Oyesanya is a 300 level student of University of Lagos. She is a young and brilliant poet, story and article writer, as well as an editor of The Lifestylens Magazine. Her works are aimed at striking a remarkable impact on youths and women. And, this short story is one of her numerous works that have received lots of accolades...

Enjoy:

                                       LETTER TO TAHIR

Dear Tahir,

I still sit by the doorstep of our empty room every other night, expecting you to come back from work. With the same expression that you carry, an expression that I only understood to be guilt.” my armour, I’m sorry…I never meant to hurt you. Can I at least explain?”I long to hear you repeat that same line again,to hear you call me your armour, to tell me that I’m all you have. Will you ever come back to me?

     Yes, I was deeply hurt. It was that cool evening, I’d kept four pieces of roasted corn in our only cockroach ridden flask. We’d agreed that you’ll buy coconut from Blessing on credit, so we can have a sumptuous meal for dinner. Having sold the last set of roasted corn to a God sent man after the rain started drizzling, I packed up quickly to set out for home. The evening felt good at the thought of the roasted corn and coconut that we’d have for dinner and I found myself mumbling our favorite song.

“we’ll overcome, yes we will…"

We sing this together anytime we don’t have to persuade the kids to sleep on a water-filled tummy.

     Angela noticed my happiness as we walked home, my only friend. Then she decided to break to me the news that changed our lives till today. She told me what our neighbor discussed with her about you and Tola, your boss’s only daughter. He told my friend about it because we don’t get along but he wanted me to know anyways. He has always been a good man. The apple of his eyes like he always says, our neighbor that works as her dad’s driver told her about your lunch date with her, about how close you both became recently, how much your boss's daughter liked your commitment to your recent relationship and trusts you. The intensity of the rain seemed to increase, the wind howled uncontrollably. Without noticing, I walked out of the shade of my friend’s umbrella and walked blindly through the rain. It seemed like minutes to several hours but I stood there for a long time, the rain beating me mercilessly as if punishing me for believing in our love. It poured and poured and I stood till my heart froze…

    On getting home, I saw you coming out of her car.

”Even if you would date another woman, it shouldn’t be her, You shouldn’t have done it” I raged. 

You stood there with a blank expression like an emotionless being while I poured my heart out. 

“So it was true” I concluded.

 I wished you told me that it wasn’t, I wished you defended yourself even if I wasn’t gonna believe but you didn’t. You only watched while I rake. With that same expression…the one I understood to be guilt.

    I ignored you from days to weeks till it was a month. I blamed you continuously for betraying the trust that I built in you. For piercing my heart with Elsa’s spear and freezing it. I worked tirelessly day and night to earn us a living, to build the single room at the outskirt of the city that housed our hunger-ridden bodies, to tack together the rags that shroud us and the kids, to get the tiny morsels that fed our tummies. You just got a job with Tola's dad and we hoped it was better than M&B where you worked tirelessly without pay.” my armour, I’m sorry…I never meant to hurt you. Can I at least explain?" This same lyrics that I crave to hear now was composed by you days after my heart froze. It was always your method, watching me rake then coming to explain later but it was too late. Your guilty expression explained it all, what else was there to explain?

    Your continuous acts of true love didn’t thaw my frozen heart. And like Elsa, fear and guilt became your only companion. You got so pale after two weeks but I didn’t care. Like an exhumed ghost, your eyeballs looked like they would come out of their sockets. Day after day, you diminished like naira’s value. You spent most of your days out and I assumed you were with her. Your nights you spent begging to explain.

    Little did I know that I never understood you. Yes, your expression was that of guilt but not for flirting with Tola, you felt guilty for wanting to surprise me and failing, for making me feel like I meant nothing to you. I didn’t know that all that was between both of you was business, she wanted to loan you capital to start a farm like you always dreamed, if you perform well in the new contract. Angela meant to break the good news to me but I didn’t listen till the end. I watered the seeds of jealousy until they grew into branched trees that I couldn’t cut.  

I wished I had a second thought when the doctor said that you died of depression.

Organizers: The Short Story Africa Day

About: From our ancestors’ first forays through the continent, to the contemporary diaspora spread around the world, people are eternally moving in, out and about the African continent. Not everyone leaves out of their own volition, and not everyone comes with the best intentions: nevertheless, the story of Africa is the story of souls migrating, settling, unsettling, fleeing, seeking, resting, nesting and sharing stories, experiences and myths.

From herds of migrating animals to treks both physical and spiritual, from the comfort of ancient myth to the desperation of those currently fleeing their homes, Short Story Day Africa is looking for a crop of short fiction that will bring a fresh, urgent perspective to one of our most profound phenomena, and the basis of all our greatest stories.

Terms and Guidelines:

1. Any African citizen or African person living in the diaspora*, as well as persons residing permanently (granted permanent residence or similar) in any African country, may enter.

2. Writers may only submit one story for the competition. Repeat entries by the same writer will be disqualified.

3. Writers are welcome to submit stories in any fiction genre.

4. Stories must be between 3000 and 5000 words in length.

5. Stories must be submitted in English. While you are free to incorporate other languages into your story, the story must be able to be understood fully by its English content.

6. Stories must be submitted online via Submittable between 1 June 2016 - 3 1 July 2016. The link to the submission form will be made live on 1 June 2016.

7. To facilitate easy reading and judging, please format your stories according to the format stipulated below. Stories not formatted in this way are at the risk of being disqualified.

8. Stories must not have been previously published in any form or any format.

9. Simultaneous submissions are not welcome. Any story entered or published elsewhere during the course of judging or publication will be disqualified.

10. You are welcome to enter under a pseudonym or nom de plume , as long as you also include your real name along with your entry.

11. All entries will be judged anonymously. Please DO NOT put your name or any other identifying details anywhere on your manuscript.

12. The judges' decision is final.

13. By submitting a story the author attests that it is their own original work and grants exclusive global print and digital rights to Short Story Day Africa for one year, and thereafter agrees to seek permission to republish and when published elsewhere attributes first publication to Short Story Day Africa; non-exclusive digital rights to Worldreader to publish individual stories on Worldreader Mobile; and non-exclusive digital rights to BooksLive for publicity purposes.

14. By entering, the author agrees to allowing Short Short Story Day Africa to include their entry in an anthology should it be selected by the judges; and to working with editors to get their story publication ready.

15. We will not share your personal information with anyone. We will, however, add you to Short Story Day Africa mailing list for the sole purpose of informing you of next year’s even, or of other Short Story Day Africa events that may be of interest to you.

* Citizens of African countries or former citizens who have given up citizenship for whatever reason, and second generation Africans whose parents are/were African citizens.

Deadline: 31st of July

Prizes:    1st prize R10 000 (approx US$500)

                 2nd prize R2 000 (approx US$125)

                 3rd prize R1 000 (approx US$60)

Submit here

For more enquiry, visit the organizers 

Hey! I suggest you find a perfect chair to aid your comfort because the pictures you are about to view are those taken from places around the world. Each of these pictures holds a message to me. Ramadan albums can be so interesting, if only I had a camera. Nevertheless, here are images of Muslims as they g ahead with various activities in the holy month.

A Palestinian girl reads the Quran during Ramadan at a mosque in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip on June 8, 2016.

Please, continue to recite sis, may Allah save Gaza... Ameen

Students pray at Ar-Raudhatul Hasanah Islamic boarding school on the first day of Ramadan in Medan, North Sumatra, Indonesia, on June 6, 2016. #

Seriously, this reminds me of school... Unilag Main Mosque to be precise.

A Muslim woman reads the Quran following noon prayers on the first day of Ramadan at Istiqlal Mosque in Jakarta, Indonesia, on June 6, 2016. #

Ehm...I wish that is my sister... Well,the good news is that she is!

Students sit in circles during a Quran recital class on the first day of Ramadan at Ar-Raudlatul Hasanah Islamic boarding school in Medan, North Sumatra, Indonesia, on June 6, 2016. #

Imagine the quantity of rewards these guys are amassing...Subhanallah!

A man sets out food for fasters to break their fast on the first day of Ramadan in a mosque in Peshawar, Pakistan, on June 7, 2016. #

And this man...

 El Mesaharty Hussien, 40, wakes up residents for their pre-dawn meals during the first day of Ramadan in Cairo, Egypt, on June 6, 2016. #

And this... I heard Muslims do this somewhere in Nigeria; Not sure.

 Kashmiri Nomadic Muslims devotees listen to the sermons of a Muslim cleric as they gather at the forest shrine of Miyan Peer, on the first day of Ramadan, on June 7, 2016, in Baba Nagri, about 44 kilometers (28 miles) northeast of Srinagar, the summer capital of Indian-administered Kashmir, India. #

Colored beards.. Hmmm...

Pakistani Muslim devotees prepare to break their fast on the first day of Ramadan at a mosque in Peshawar on June 7, 2016. #

Wow...Islam is so beautiful. Nice beards tho...

Too bad I have none from Nigeria... Well, you can help with that if you are in Nigeria and have good camera... Thanks in advance

Source of images: The Atlantic Photo

I had a sumptuous meal of Rice and beans, garnished with fried fish and deep red stew for Iftar on Friday. It didn't end there, I continued. The tea was adequately heated  for the rather cold weather. So, drinking to my satisfaction was quite easily done.

Meanwhile,

Somewhere in Germany,Duesseldorf shelter, some of my brothers are reportedly receiving approximately empty bowls of Ramadan meals. 

Note: The scope of this article is not to judge the refugees for getting angry about the skimpy meals and setting the shelter on fire. 

No, I am in no place to judge. 

All, I can do is let the news remind my readers and I that no matter how small you think you have, somebody out there has even less.   We should learn to say 'alhamdulilah' even when you're cork sure that your Sahur or Iftar isn't the best in the world... Let's acknowledge that there are some Muslims in this world who have little or nothing to break their fasts. 

However, it would mean selfishness, if we are fast at saying alhamdulilah but we exclude our brethen in prayers. These men, women and children are refugees sent packing from their homes for the sake of war. I can imagine how painful it is to fast and not get something nice enough to break_ excruciating! 

Who knows, if you join me prayers, Allah might ease their affairs of  Muslims in all nooks and crannies of planet earth; those in Iraq, Palestine, Nigeria, Egypt, Malaysia, America and so on. 

If we don't pray for them, who will?

Culled from OFA

Starting: 1st Ramadan 1437.

Deadline: 30th Ramadan 1437.

Organisation of Islamic Cooperation OIC is pleased to announce the first edition of Ramadan Social Media Photo Competition. The competition is open to all citizens of an OIC member state aged 18 and above. The winning pictures can depict social, economic and cultural aspect of the theme of the competition;

The Human Face of Ramadan .

Entries can depict Ramadan’s spirituality, generosity, spirit of sharing, gathering, divers Muslims’ traditions and cultures during Ramadan which all fall within the OIC’s objectives of promoting Islamic solidarity, brotherhood and cultural awareness.

Prize : 6 winners with 6 best photographs will be sponsored for Hajj pilgrimage.

Eligibility : Open to all citizens of an OIC member state aged 18 and above.

Award

The 6 winners with 6 best photographs will be sponsored for Hajj pilgrimage.

The prize is transferable to another person nominated by the winner.

If a winner is suspected to have committed fraud in the process of winning the competition, his/her winning slot will be awarded to the runner up in the competition.

Selection:

The pictures will be published on OIC website and social Media platforms throughout the month of Ramadan.

OIC special jury will then select 6 winners 2 weeks after the close of the competition using specific criteria and the winners will be announced on OIC website 3-4 weeks after the close of the competition.

How to enter the contest?

To enter the competition, simply upload a picture taken during the 1437 Ramadan fast depicting the Human Face of Ramadan. Including your name, age, location, date of the picture, tittle and a short caption. Only non-professional photographers with keen eye and creative mind are eligible to participate. Pictures entered for other competitions are not eligible. The competition closes on 30th Ramadan 1437 .

Entries received after this date will not be considered. Competitors must also like or follow OIC Social Media Platforms.

How to submit my photos?

You can submit your photos on www.oic-oci.org only and by filling the form below. For practical reasons, the upload process will not accept images greater than 7 MB.

Please ensure it is in JPEG format. OIC cannot be held responsible for problems associated with entry submission. Describe the view and location of the image so we can verify its authenticity and eligibility for the competition. (Languages: Arabic, English and French).

Caution: Please avoid digital manipulation. Your photograph should faithfully represent the scene as you saw it. Only photos deemed suitable for public viewing will be published on OIC website and Social Media platforms.

Many have wondered; scientists and even lay thinkers, how come some people get fatter during the fasting month. A lay thinker would make this hypothetical conclusion:  Those who get fatter are hypocrites who only pretend to be fasting. However, as a Biochemist, I've taken some time to research the true reason behind this mysterious swell in size. 

Here are my explanations::

Exaggeration of Sahur and Iftar: Almost everyone is a culprit of this. And of course, it is logical... The volume of fuel in a car determines how far it can travel. But,there is a but...eating so much leads to obesity. Remember? So, even though we don't eat during the day, it most times doesn't matter at all.

            Sleep, Sleep, Sleep:

 Ask around, most of those who get fatter during Ramadan probably sleep immediately after Fajr and after Taraweeh. And who said it is wrong to sleep at these times? Just make sure your fats are not bioaccumulating into obesity.lol...Some folks even sleep or hybernate  during the day in bid to minimize energy loss through work and strenuous activities.

King Diet: 

Seriously, most of us do not enjoy so much diversity in diet and nutrition as we do during Ramadan. We break with dates, orange, Banana or other variety of fruits. And we drink a whole lot of water to replenish the 14 hours old dehydration. After devouring appetizers, we move ahead to the main course; Fried rice and roasted chicken, Beans and plantain...ecetra. These contributes to the number calories we accumulate per day. As I said, I am a Biochemist, believe me when I say Ramadan is a great opportunity to get really chubby.

I added comments of some Muslims on the question

Do you gain or loss weight during Ramadan?

Here are the answers:

Yusuf Ibrahim: Lol...I don't notice. But I guess I remain the same. It doesn't matter if one loses or gains weight, but the norm is you are supposed to lose weight due to the rigorous activities...There're some individuals that their nature is just being bodied.....and that doesn't mean they didn't do ibaadat.

Akande Dhikrah: I remain the same...I don't know about others

Yusuf Ayodele: Well, I don't borther check my weight in Ramadan. But I think I become thinner.

Olatunji Mustapha: I think I remain the same

You can add yours in the comment box below .Asalamualeikum

One interesting thing about this news is the fact that it most likely will not end here. I am almost certain that Trump will hit back at the US president for taking sides with the Muslims. Just predictions though.
However,  it is obvious that Obama came out on Sunday evening with a will to enjoin good in the world when he said e

in written statement,

"For many, this month is an opportunity to focus on reflection and spiritual growth, forgiveness, patience and resilience, compassion for those less fortunate, and unity across communities," 

"Here in the United States, we are blessed with Muslim communities as diverse as our nation itself. There are those whose heritage can be traced back to the very beginning of our nation, as well as those who have only just arrived,"

And this is the part Trump might take personal:

"I stand firmly with Muslim American communities in rejection of the voices that seek to divide us or limit our religious freedoms or civil rights."
"We will continue to welcome immigrants and refugees into our nation, including those who are Muslim," he added.

But, please, let us begin to pray for our brothers and sisters in the United States. May Donald Trump not succeed in his dirty ambition of oppressing the Muslims. Ameen.

Okay, I'm half glad and half nervous that I'll be doing this. I'm not much of a writer, infact there's every possibility that you'd be a better writer than I am (and that's saying something, my fam can attest to my vanity).
However, what I'd like to pass on to you guys this week is how to write with "Emotional honesty". Some of my best pieces according to my critiques was when I *let go*; I wasn't worried about how many rhymes I could do or how big the words were. I wanted to my reader to feel my emotions. I poured my heart into it and though it didn't have that polished finish to it but it was raw with emotion and inherently honest. The thing is, when you write with your heart and sincerity and you're not trying to impress anyone, you say the things you're afraid to say normally. You've laid your heart bare for someone you've probably never met to see. I once saw a quote that said "A great writer must make a fool of himself" and I agree. At least in my experience, I'd say it's true.

As an active member on wattpad, I've come across stories written by people with English being their second, third and even fourth language and they struggle to write a story in English. However, I've stuck with the terrible grammar because I can see they have a story worth telling.

As a reader, I try to point out and help them convey their stories. I remember writing a story about some of my experiences as a teenager. I was very *coughs* rebellious back then and I ended up going to four secondary schools. Some of the experiences weren't so pleasant and I had no one to talk to about them. So before I entered university, I decided to write letters to people that had hurt me or touched me and I put the on wattpad. It's my least read books on wattpad, given that it's very short but every comment says almost the same thing, "I could feel her pain".
I hope reading this had opened your eyes to a thing or two.

There's an epidemic of love poems on Poesy Writers...... They keep gushing in like spring water.. And I won't deny, its getting intensely and romantically warm in there. You too can steal a glimpse of our love poems here *winks..

IN MY HEAD

...by Abdulquadri Aliu and Ibrahim Olalere

In my head is a cave; a refuge to your tender memories,
Pictures of you wearing a morning look,
Sounds of your rosy chuckles,
With sun beaming your charming eyes into mine,
As we hold hands blowing through the wind.

In my head is a love poem written by you and I,
It's wordings inspired by your charming smile.
Whilst you faded with the nook and crannies of time,
Your gaze still lingers in my cave of memories,
With bats of hope that you'll come by someday.

.

It's My Iris_and Then The Roses
By Ibrahim Olalere

It's my Iris
That called this cold upon me
When my sneaky gaze caught you unaware
Smiling within your pretty dress

It's my Iris
That captured the stature of your beauty
When the sun lit you from behind
And these roses rooted into my heart

It's my Iris
And not me!
That kept stalking your every move
Once upon everyday
Till those times you sit beneath the moon

It's the roses
And not my Iris
That keeps yearning to meet with you
Red red flowers from the soil of my heart
Although my eyes are shy...
I shall come with them in my friendly arms
I'll say your name
Please say mine
Accept my heatly roses -They're my love for you
Caress and perceive their red red petal
Wet them with more of your dimpled smiles
And let your heart be their vase

STUCK IN LOVE
By Mustapha Olatunji

See;

Am stuck with you,
Like the teeth is to the gum

Am stuck with you,
Like the mountain is to the Earth

Am stuck with you,
Like Molten magma is to Volcano

Am stuck with you,
Like the cloud is to the Sky

Am stuck with you,
Like the light is to the moon

Am stuck with you,
Like the heart is to the Chest

Am stuck with you,
Like the tongue is to the mouth

Am stuck with you,
Like the world is to wildness

Am stuck with you,
Like pain is to sorrow

Am stuck with you,
Like blood is to the Marrow

Am stuck with you,
Like God is to Greatness

Am stuck with you,
Like life is to Death

And I'll stick with you,
Till the Very End...

                         .

Fallen…
By Ibrahim Olalere_ Poesy

Mayhap, I died yestreen
Whilst trying to reach the crest of my feelings
I tripped and fell in love
And my heart hit the floor
She was there!
To receive my tears
Lo! My dignity and pride
I failed to cry
unto my feet, refusing her hands
With a bone of contention fractured in my mind
“Could this be her?
The “N” of my deeN
The beholder of my kids
…Yet I walked away
With bruises and aches
If only she’d say “Hi,
it’s you I like”
Just before I heal
And her presence would quit being a big deal

TO HER

By Abdulazeez Ajala

After many years of being alone       
Found you, like I paid back my loan
Out of trouble
Goodbye to home alone!

The Mother of great people
The teacher of tomorrow’s leaders
I will make sure we fly together
I hope you’d be patient whenever we crash

I’m your half, you are mine
Half plus half gives one
We will be together till death comes
I pray we live long upon obedience to our Lord

I can go to the sun scribe your name       
Anything you want, I’m at your service
As long as it’s possible, I will try my best
Welcome to Our home!

BEAUTY
By Ibankhan and A'ishah of Poesy Writers
Saturday , April 9 2016 .

My heart grows weary
Pumping and beating
Pulsing and pausing

At the sight of you , paralysis takes the wheel of my senses

As I walk this empty forest
Surrounded by ghosts
With my head held up in courage
I dare not steal a second glance.

But I have to be brave for the reason I trudge on is to rescue you

Listen, I'm musing
Isn't it the fear of your elegance?
The one you cloak and cloud and shield with smile

Oh! Damsel in distress !
My quest is inspired by your intense pulchritude

Because your standing is the arrangement of the heavens
Held down by your foot like that of the mountain

Your presence is the very essence of my unconscious grin , my clumsy walks , my charismatic being

Beauty is you that I can't belittle
Dreams of you drizzle but your sight is the Kindle

You fan the flames of my failed lowered gaze
Beauty is nonsensical without "u" in it

LOVESTRUCK

By Ogundele Afolabi

In my eyes you've made a trickle.

In my heart you've made a jingle.

In my mind you drove a sickle.

In my soul you became a pickle.

To see your face I wear a giggle.

To hear your giggle my heart will wiggle.

To hold your hand, I feel like an eagle.

To stand by you my being begins to jiggle.

How sweet your laughter which makes my soul Bubble.

How hurtful your absence which make me see double.

How tender your touch, if absent could cause me a trouble.

How beautiful our union is strengthened with our squabble.

Your kiss on my cheeks with lips so subtle.

Your affection towards me as though by potions in a bottle.

Your beauty when I behold, my heart goes on full throttle.

In this fairytale of ours we would let no one meddle.

To me and to you we would be like a girdle.

Keep the world agape and sages outwitted, we would be a riddle.

I await you Azeezatiey, come take my hands and we'll walk into paradise, preferably the middle.

TIPS TO BEING A GOOD WRITER.

By Miss Sopheeyah Oyesanya

1.Read extensively; from pamphlets to novels,journals and articles.
Also be friends with your dictionary, learn new words everyday.

2.As a writer,you've to  be observant,notice little things,even things that people consider as weird cus that's where you'll get ideas and inspirations from.

3. Take a walk,listen to conversations and note important points down,write everyday.
Spare at least 30mins to an hour daily writing... You don't have to feel like it,write even when you don't feel like.

4.Choose a convenient routine for yourself,if u feel okay writing in a serene environ-don't deprive yourself of the pleasure and if a restaurant is cool with you-then go for it.

5.Whenever you're writing-use precise sentences instead of long ones.
E.g If I'm writing a story now and I've to describe that Jane came back from work tired,she opened her fridge but found it empty and she got very angry at her sister for that.
Instead of writing "Jane was very tired because her day was stressful,she entered the room in a sleepy state and opened the fridge but she found it empty. She got angry and slammed the door"

I can replace it with"Her muscles ache from the strenuous exercise of the day, she staggered to the fridge only to find it empty.She hissed and slammed the fridge door"
By using this,i created an image in the mind of my reader and ts precise compared to the first paragraph.
6.Create powerful images in the mind of your readers.This is important for your write up not to get boring...E.g if I want to write "I'm sweating profusely"
I can replace it with something like "tiny sweat beads wet my forehead"
While doing that,be sure not to include unnecessary expressions.

7.Focus more on meaning than creativity.
Creativity adds flavour to your write up but don't allow it to cloud the true meaning.

8.Read and learn from other writers but your write up doesn't necessarily have to look like theirs.
Develop your own unique concept.

9.While you're writing, be sure to dominate the mind of your readers,don't sound confused.
It's your write up and they can only believe what you make them believe...they can feel only what you make them feel.

10.Share your write ups-don't be shy to let people read what you've written.
And learn to accept critiques, don't feel offended or upset by comments.