Friday, April 19, 2024

Top 5 This Week

Related Posts

Kisstory: Poetry by Ahmed Maiwada


Let our first kiss
Be the last thing on our lips
That our last kiss
May be the first thing
On the line
When drought carved the cracks.

Lips are like streams
When they run;
They are like streams
When they run
Dry; like seal-eyed puppies when on track,
Loathing brides when they advance.

Lips carved, sucked or sealed
Will kiss not the lips they once kissed twice.
So, let our first kiss be the last thing on our lips.

I won’t kiss July on the lips,
So August goes not green
And bind my ever rising sun
Inside his cell of pouring clouds.

News-break pops out on July’s lips:
August is spent out on the farm;
            Till he brings in the harvest crops
            Sky and earth may join at the lips.

I say: July, lay down your arms,
Take up your undressing machines –
                      Your eyes, the lightning globes release:
                      Oh, slow down not what calls for haste!

Kisses perched on my mind;
Too scared to mount my lips,
That I might lay them on your cheeks –
Their NICON deluxe couch.

And so the cracks increased;
The bridge between nosedived.
The gap lengthened like shadows from
A round robin, red sun.

Take your will to the smith;
Your rift valley shall fill.
Those words fresh from the Biblezines
Met with your counterfleet.

I’ve watched the match-past – years,
Of minutes, round the clock;
Now that the hourglass match-pasts, let
The men at work resume.

Eyes at work did their job;
They saw the girl next dawn.
Three-hundred-six-six – my heartbeats,
Like years – when they leap.

The best loaf oven bakes,
Kept higher than the stars;
In lieu of bread that heaven gave
This bread is manna still!

Of me and miscellaneous lips:
Our gateways lying wide;
And z for every why.
My skin-head pestle aims to rise
From pounding yet to start.

Perched on the lapel of my coat
Fahrenheit plays Cologne
Dragon on wild violin!
The riff she only can perceive;
She’s Eve, scent Serpent’s voice.

Sir, lute her door and window panes,
Whose nerves – calm as the sea
With Jonah’s running corpse;
But tremble now my heart in quakes,
My lips on quicksand slip.

Took sporty days and sporty nights,
To shed my caved in nerves.
Done staking too much time!
My feeble staff, The Rock, is hard,
The well donates her sap.

My itch for walk on danger’s list
Is scratched – I ride his teeth.
From coffin-cruise on wings,
I kiss a heated pot of love
And a slowly quenching bug.

Let me amend the dream
Of me you had last night;
Sun out the kiss,
Till the wetness is burnt.
Then tell my heart be still,
So I can hear his speak.
And let my arms release,
So they find caution thrown
Into the wind.

May take the dog’s woman,
Must not the pups’ mama:
Death is not me –
Who takes all, brutish kite!
Ice me not, bended knees:
Cake you ate not can’t have.
Business of pleasure’s mine;
Green lights are waving me –
Kiss traffic long.

Full kiss shall change to French;
Foreplay to au revoir:
Surface not depth!
Your arms longer than law,
Let their just size regain
So they don’t have me caged.
Life I live as a leaf:
I’m green, yellow or brown,
Come roses come thorns.

Wish me never sweet dreams
When your heart is Chloroquine;
Last night that you wished them
Lurid spectres swarmed the void –
The night I passed awake
That its mares didn’t trample me.
Tell me is it different
To the muse I sang about –
The god that put a knife
To my throat and said, Recite!
At an hour unholy
Art and craft café shut down?
Showed the hired assassin
Sword and collar that I kept –
The twinity of me;
Told him: I’m Jekyll and Hyde
Said: the other me who
Sings like bards is closet-kept;
   This butcher’s poetry’s blood.
   This night it flows, if it must
That night you wished me this
That night you wished me sweet dreams!
Wish me never sweet dreams
When your heart is Chloroquine!

Don’t perch on my mind for long
If you’ll soon need your wings:
I’m a house where goodbye is
Everywhere out of stock.
Don’t roost in my heart tonight
If you’ll rise with the sun:
I’m a swamp; my sand is
Every hour a quicker tomb.
Don’t hop on my soul after dawn,
If you’ll take wings at noon:
I’m a lawn whose dew is
Every drop a bubble gum.
Get out of mind, heart and soul;
Give me a break – fast!
Don’t wait to give breakfast:
I won’t nail you down when you’re gone.


(c) Ahmed Maiwada

Ahmed Maiwada
Ahmed Maiwada
Ahmed Maiwada is a Nigerian lawyer and poet. Based in Abuja, he has published two collections of poetry and a novel, Musdoki.


  1. Still the creative genius you are sir, nice Imageries at play, perfectly jointed at the center. I love ths!

    • This is amazing poem. I want to learn from you, Barr. Ahmed Maiwada. I am a young poet from Ogoni, Khana Local Government Area in Rivers State. I am like a water reservoir filled with water but there is not any pipe to direct the flow of water from me to irrigate the farm. I wish you be that pipe. Thanks

      • Nnaa,

        Thank you for reading my poem.

        I am I Facebook, sharing my poems now and then. I think it’s the best way we could inspire one another. Find me there and let’s get inspired by what we share.

  2. This is like an epic adventure/ romantic lovestory/ picturesque and burgeoning with vividries!!!! i can’t get enough of it, & have seriously read it numerous times already. methinks it should be taken to the stage!! ~:} Thanks for sharing this awesome werk, Sir Maiwada!

    • Sarah,

      I apologise for replying to yours now, after all these many years. I’d truly just read it. Many thanks indeed. It so happens that I have a pending request to submit a poem for recording, and I had been thinking about which if my poems I should submit. Now I have decided in sending this. Thanks to you!

  3. Hi Ashlyn,

    One of friends in FACEBOOK noted that one of your posted poetry last April 11 was copied from the Doings of Lover’s haiku Senryu page. ( The poem is – I will make, which is written on the info page of DOL…) May I inform you the said poem is copyrighted 2008. Thank you.

  4. Sir Maiwad! You got my jar dropped with your captivative words and images poured in. I read the poem thrice and enyoyed it to my utmost bliss. More ink to your golden pen. I hope one day to write a lot of poems like you. You shall ever remain my mentor.

SAY SOMETHING (Comments held for moderation)

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

Popular Articles