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#BookishThoughts: The Return of the Water Spirit by Pepetela
To be honest, what drew me to this book was its title. I fancy a good fantasy story and “The Return of The Water Spirit” sounded like one I might very much enjoy. The beginning pages drew me to this strong female character, Carmina, who thought of the payment of bride price as an obscurantist…
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#BookishThoughts: Woman Hollering Creek by Sandra Cisneros
I haven’t (book) blogged in forever! My only reason? Lately, I just cannot keep up with adulting, and I am only now attempting to read more (my year in reading is appalling!) and hopefully write more. I have not published any short stories this year, but keeping it positive, my first book was released in…
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Review: ‘Brass Neck’ by Victoria Naa Takia Nunoo – Aha! Review
Review: ‘Brass Neck’ by Victoria Naa Takia Nunoo Publisher: RLFPA Editions Published: 01/26/2020 An Exercise in Rejecting Permission by Giving Permission In Victoria Naa Takia Nunoo’s debut Brass Neck, the body is at the center of a turf war between acceptance through exploration and repulsion through boundaries. Ilya Kaminsky who chose the collection as…
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Talk Session Ten
Talk Session No. 10 – Writing with patience, persistence and truth – the importance of developing one’s creativity with Victoria Naa Takia Nunoo. Read more > https://thewrncollective.wordpress.com/2019/04/06/writing-with-patience-persistence-truth/
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Stagnant Water
my body isn’t mine dawn and dusk it belongs to the restlessness the tomorrow never comes only the in betweens are mine to control my imperfections are mountains i am climbing myself rain is boring into my back water is filling me up i am too heavy the slippery stones give but the ground doesn’t…
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Rodent Parade
i have a whole room to myself. yet, this is me crouching in one corner. square rooms are prison cells. they end everywhere. can you smell the loneliness on my tired clothes? sweat-drenched XXL Lacoste made bed. too made to be lain in. my mind is a gutter. all the waste gathers here. it is…
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there’s too much valley here
when the sound of my own breathing reaches my ears and my skin is warm and time attaches itself to my brain vulnerable, i am my most, here now, inside sheets reeking of aging dreams and dying hope there’s too much valley here when do i start climbing?
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I’m learning to be lit at this writing distin
Sometime last August, I was contacted by a colleague writer to share my art process and the importance of the narrative with a group of students, as part of the Nkabom Literary Festival 2017. Knowing myself and how lowkey I am/try to be, the first word that came to mind was FLEE. The second word…
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Your first love
your first love’s tattooed on your heart and it burns, still burns like it was just yesterday they decided to be fire instead of water.