Ayo Ayoola-Amale (Nigeria)

Ayo Ayoola-Amale (Nigeria)
Ayo Ayoola-Amale, is of African heritage. Her work as a poet receives critical attention internationally. She is the Muse of Poetic Harmony, also known as Pacifist Poet and is acknowledged as a poet for positive social change. Ayo enjoys going into schools as a committed advocate of poetry who has seen the critical role that poetry plays as an important catalyst for learning, stimulating creativity and in developing vital communities. She believes that poetry should be made a part of students’ daily lives. Her poems are concerned with confronting the problem of violence, racism and the breakdown of human community. Ayo’s intimate relationship to the peace movement is phenomenal- peace is the word her life is making. Her poems and other literary works have appeared in several international and national anthologies, magazines and journals.
I exist in the dawn light, in the dusk all round
I have gathered all the dialect in a divine sounding trumpet
so many faces with torrential outbursts of breath
Undying crossroads, the feet stops, the feet stands
the same time its strengthening growth
I come here; I know time like the sun knows its stomach
I sit here, I walk between sand storms
I stand there and walk the sea cliff at dusk
I leave here without loyalty
Like piercing winds
I do not exist
The scent of my voice stood up in front of me
Asking to sit inside my head
My mind gets up, solid again
Carrying a lovely trumpet in a cool breeze
and that’s all that took off my breath
from my place of birth
I know my spirit.
A blown out feast
the last life, the last hope, the last wisdom,
generally, individually,
always diving violently into the wreck
the guns stood on flowers turn to dry feed,
Undeniable right to destruction- “gun rights,” they say, “
gun‘s a necessity, seeing guns, using guns
that was born to rape us with its finger under our pants
through the misery of the ages
Guns burn the possessor frozen-stiff
Caressing our beloved to ashes
In the silent night, the moon arms rages
The unripe days hurried to cemetery
When light struck our minds and stayed on
The sages sing with hands greening, splattering from the leaves
At every wind the stones of death wiped off from days and nights
the way a candle melts, armaments go out with a feeble heart
Undeniable right to life- “we have a life to become,” we say, “
No right higher than the sacredness of life.

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