Skip to main content

Black Is Life | Obasa Oluwafumilayo Martha


In the depths of Nile
we crawl into open winds with-
a nest of air.
Black air in the dark
running against a light skin -on a brown frame
                                              —with subtle fingers
and playful hearts.

A game of hearts  —one white, one black.
Interplay of silk diamonds
                            -and honey in each mouth,
Assemblies of knives
-a threat of love. 
Long sheets drawn of life for black.

Black (brown frame): My corymb of cries
                                    -filled in a bottle.
                                    A sync of feelings-left to
                                    Crickets in my home
                                    your diminishing absence;
                                    I seek for you,
                                     Black is life.
White(light skin)       : Your frame of warmth
                                                —my dear hope.
                                      I love you so,  for your
                                     Sweet air is dark -against
                                     my light skin.
                                     Shield me in your heat,  
                                     Black is life.


Obasa Oluwafunmilayo Martha (Phummie) is a poet and photographer, currently studying History And International Studies in the University of Ilorin, Nigeria.
She is also a former content writer of the Lagos culture blog; a blog that deals with everyday life in Lagos state, Nigeria. Striving for success, she wishes to become well known in the fields of poetry and photography.  She has had some of her works published in various magazines. She resides in Asokoro, Abuja, Nigeria. Feel free to reach her via

Free publishing on Philip Peace Literary World
Click free publishing on Philip Peace Literary World


Popular posts from this blog

Read the story. TEARS IN MY EYES



                     TEARS IN MY EYES     The anxiety for sex prompted the award winning and young Nigerian poet (Ololade Akinlabi Ige) to sharpen the keen mouth of his pen to write the novella: TEARS IN MY EYES. This is a book for everyone to read.
The pains and agony the main character in the novella went through were meant to awake the conscience of the wicked being. 

     Ariyo is a beautiful lady. Eyes cannot deny that. She is a product of rape but she leaves behind her worries knowing fully well that the world is good for no one. But she feels it is very stupid if she eventually falls victim of what led her to life. She tries to always avoid intimate relationship with boys because she knows quite well that boys often come with different missions in which most of the time their common mission is sex, sex and sex.
     But we are all human being, this heart needs a companion. So it is for Ariyo who uncons…



Once upon a time, a woman has a big store for her chickens. The chickens are so big that they give big and good eggs everytime they release eggs. The woman fed them so much that they were weighty even after releasing eggs.
One day, a customer brought some local hens to her, she said
"Try them, they are also good hens. They give big eggs as well. You'll enjoy keeping and feeding them."

The woman collected them and added them with his chickens. The chickens and the local hens stayed together in a place.
One day, the woman gave them the normal food they eat, as the chickens pecked their food moderately, the local hens scattered it with their legs as they peck, they scattered it around and peck, they did that till they liter the whole place.
Mother hen looked at the chickens,
"We're the same now, we eat the same food. We will yield the same eggs, we will be on the postal too."
The chickens flap their feathers feebly and rested th…


For Ikeoluwa.

I have sailed in the ocean — on
your body's warm drenched spot axis,
and i have felt the touch of your
freezing burning hands and cold words:
you said some soft words gently in
my ear on a cold night. and my
body is a tree, it rustles
when winds beat. winds like your mutters.

I have a whirling desire
that we are over the 9th edge;
grabbing, rocking, licking, tasting —
and the passion flows 'n' action shows.
your whole body defines a lot
even when i see nothing but
the voluptuous pillows of a
tired bed, calling me to sleep.

Slowly, this pace beats rapidly
like a running fire. and i'm
burning coldly on a meet with
your whitish round thorax muscle.
glorious! your body is a bike
and i'm good at riding roughly.
slide and glide, make a symphony
of our salvation on this cold night.

Akinwale Peace AkindayoPhilip Peace