Poems by Saddiq Dzukogi

SaddiqSaddiq M. Dzukogi is an award winning poet, a rising voice in the literary circle in Nigeria. In his mid-twenties, he boasts of two poetry collections; Images of life (2004) and Canvas 2011 – shortlisted for 2012 ANA POETRY PRIZE). He was the maiden winner of ANA/MAZARIYYA TEEN AUTHORSHIP PRIZE for poetry back in 2007. Sunbeams & Shadows, is due for release this year.


the eye of day

Can you not sprout
from within the veins of a desert
and be the love of a glassy sun?
Can you not be the infant of a night
in its scale of glossy shadow
…the hinge, that opens the doors of tomorrow
You, my cologne, shall be held in the weight of air
even as you wither into peat
the eye of day
shall not forget the tang of my petals
it sears you to a relic

Dawn will come 

Fire shall run out of coal
River shall feed water
To the thirst of land
Sun shall shine
And be doused
By the embrace of night
But dawn will come
Calling with sound and light
To break the silence
And darkness of a night 

 

The mountain is naked

i

Once upon the clock
Cockcrows
at the mark of dawn
Sun steps out
and dances with the tree
in translucid garb
of emerald hair
covering the branches  in their sways
Choreography in sync with the voices of the wind

ii

Once upon the clock
The mountain wore a river
around its waist
And the fishes in there
are now somewhere
Clogging the mouth of Papa’s basket
gasping for space
as many more eject to earth
He will continue fishing
as I climb to the summit
of the mammoth stone
with my hands filled with minor stones
Smooth ones, pebbles
resting waste by the river side
And when cloud comes within touching frostiness
at the climax
I let loose my rocks
lone by lone
Into the appetite of the river
shedding circles
Undulating long way away
From the enclave of sight
Against the rushing current
The sun leaves me there
And papa’s trembling voice
Plucks me down from the pride of the sky

iii

Now upon the clock
The river is soaked in a dust bowl of hunger
And the mountain is unclothed
The lawns have gowned gray
From the parched breath of the desert
My pebbles can only drop to bare earth
And Papa’s basket is free

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