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My Mouth Says Depression

I don't know why this twirls

as a rainbow in search of its hues,

why it bugles like songs of victory boots.

I shed my skin into the body of a widow

revelling in saltwater, shining in an hourglass.

I get stuck in between the sheets of a flowing ore

and my tongue yields thorn in a garden of tulips.

I strike! I belt! I buckle! I strap!

I bolt into the blueness of the sea.

I am nauseated, I am sea driven; the ash of lonesome silence.

I say depression; cowardice.

I say depression; bravery.

I say depression; freedom.

I say depression; hope.

I walk with black seas,

empty the names of gods on a dish of stars.

I say the light is the beginning,

do not empty your fire!

The Shape of A Boy Is You

Mother came home last night in her water garment.

Her face was frigid.

She looked a lot like a deserted sea house;

slowly wrinkling away with blue memories.

She looked like the shattering part of the shore.

The sand learned the language of her body,

the waves learned the language on her tongue.

Her skin was the pathway to broken petals.

She looked like the part of you that withered years ago

when the moon influenced your voice the language of silence.


the beauties of fireflies crackling their bodies,

the calm stars leaning on the tenderness of the sky,

the wind touring old box houses and sandcastles.

But you were of dusty sea shutters and cut curtains

a bird on the body of the sky learning how to fly

a seashore of fragmented memories and empty seashells.

Mother helmed your voice while sea fireworks named God 'home'

and you were the future of mother's abandoned sea house.

And God welcomed you home.


Silver painted cars

Orange laughs

Brown bodies

Crimson blunts

Grey scents

Blue souls

White wings

Red lies.

The earth filled us into the embodiments

of its body.

& like other third nights, the stones of our tombs are rolled

& our bodies;

Blunt, refused to resurrect.

About The Poet

Dipe Jola is a teen poet, ardent lover of Arts & Literature. Her works has

appeared on Nantygreens, Tushstories, the anthology; 'Boys are not stones,'

and many more. First runner-up EOPP 2018. She writes from Lagos. Can

be reached via IG @dipe_jola. Twitter @Jola_ng.

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