Kola articles from September 2001

Kola archives from September 2001

Editorial.(Poem)
September 22, 2001... In the wake of the September 11, 2001 crisis in America, we are prone to invistigate, analyse, and put forward different points of view about the merits of nationalism, and even try to come up with a transglobal approach to terroism. Although...

The Wasteland. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... The Wasteland Part 1 Wha Gone Wrong Papa Olurun blink he eyes and God peep through a two-hole window in the sky and was traumatised. For the first time Since God said "I am lonely" Went down to the river Sat down. Had...

No Release. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... No Release Horace Goddard You call me brodah in dis cement slammer, But dis steel's too thick to bind we togetha I and I doing six years for a crime The President of the United States made fine. Cousin Bill tek him...

Ownway Piccanni. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Ownway Picanni "Bwoy stop de pounding o'dem in mi 'ead," Granny said, as I curled mi budding dread. "When I was young, I had was to walk country road Searching fi a job and guilt was mi load. Nine piccanni home wid gran' muhmah....

This Old House. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... This Old House There is an open door Every weekend. That's when I want to nurse my thoughts, Or just reflect a bit On those events that brought me to this. The door bell rings, and things Are said about the roof, Taxes,...

In My House. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... In My House In my house, there are many mansions. If it weren't so, I would have told you. There's one for you and one for the Negro Whose dimensions one must never mention. I cry for those of you inside this dungeon. I feel...

Prisoner. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Prisoner I'm trapped in the focus of your eyes all seeing twisting and turning charting my every move I can't do anything without you seeing it for final approval or damned dismissal I'm caged within your eyes...

In Memory of Pierre Elliott-Trudeau (Fifteenth Prime Minister of Canada). (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... In Memory of Pierre Elliott-Trudeau (Fifteenth Prime Minister of Canada) You have lived long, during turbulent times and constant tolling bells. Petrology was your dearest hobby. Come then. Let us build your monument, not from...

Remembering. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Remembering I heard you today, Mamie, echoing The memories you planted in my thoughts. Grey clouds spouting soft flecks of snow Made those waning moments of your life real. I often seek your guidance in prayer, mother, as my...

Senses. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Senses I can no longer see the light you lit up in Me. I can no longer hear your sighs when I'm near. I can no longer feel what it is to be free to look you in the eyes free to speak words of...

Silhouettes. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Silhouettes In the darkness Silhouettes fall flat. Stark images rise. Anger flames your visage. I should have called but I felt assured of a place in this tourist city. The Chinese cuisine stopped a lingering hunger....

Misunderstand. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Misunderstand Don't undermine the Crookedness of my tree But please do look beyond the physical In me, do you see? Don't misunderstand the Faults in me. They come Just as faults naturally Chorus My rebellion is...

Why Cry. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Why Cry Why cry when a king or a queen dies For he was but a mere man Created from the same soil as you and me Anyman's death is a time to rejoice He's moved on to a better place and thus has fulfilled his purpose in this...

I Feel. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... I Feel I feel like I'm flying in heaven when I'm with you. Since it's apparent that I'm not I know it awaits. There could never be another temple as great as your own such as my playground outgoing & inbound....

IV. iv. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... IV. iv You were not a traitor You were betrayed. You were something. You made nothing. You wrote dazzlingly and you lied brilliantly. You did your duty. You thought beauty a corruption of booty. ...

Maxims of Morality. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Maxims of Morality I--Politics There's no room for bonhommie In any contracting economy Never any dogma Without some stigma It is the duty of government To turn cream into excrement II--Love ...

January 1999 (II). (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... January 1999 (II) 24h04, snow is whitening midnight over Rosemount Softening the tread of husbands to the XXX video shops, And all my marking is finished-- That violence and curing of students, their soft brains Spouting...

Anthropology of Eastern Ontario (Without Apology). (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Anthropology of Eastern Ontario (Without Apology) Morning, and a strom is tracking highway clowns, coffee Dreamers, country and western Ontarions, donuts Eaters, all fat whiteneck suburban Tory lovers, Just fresh from their beds...

Genealogy, Post-Pushkin. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Genealogy, Post-Pushkin I was reading Pushkin in Italy, While vodka whitened my Black Russian blood And I craved Garcia Lorca's tequila-- Not forgetting Mussolini's massacres In Ethiopia: the rain irritating the desert, Blood...

Freetown Halifax. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Freetown Halifax In Sierra Leone, Freetown is carpeted with bodies. Lawyers snooze with shotguns by their beds. Poets have been locked up in their houses for days With dry biscuits and yellowed water-- and decomposing works...

Oh Blessed Child. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Oh Blessed Child One time I did not know that I needed Then disaster came my way Robbed me of my freedom Landed me in a quandary I quickly excluded myself. Only to be faced with same ilks Gladly I shifted to further lands...

Sometimes I Want To. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Sometimes I Want To Sometimes I want to--- And then there come the birds All hovering around with looking eyes Give me some please, it is hunger Fowls of the air all God's creation Sometimes I want to-- But I have almost...

I Do Not Know My Name. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... I Do Not Know My Name I do not know my name They call me "Calle" just the same I am a descendant of "Africa" came To help design the "Caribbean" Cheated of my rightful stance My ancestors paid in sweat, and blood To do the...

Mote In The Universe. (Poetry).(Poem)
September 22, 2001... Mote In The Universe Hey YOU, and ME We such small creatures Last in the UNIVERSE Came at the close of CREATION How smart we think Yet we are always lost The smallest of things Alarm us, and cause us fears Hail, mightly,...

Carnation.(Short Story)
September 22, 2001... Sarah Long had a visitor for the first time in years. The momentous event made her delirious with ecstasy. She waltzed. Her pink, silk dress swished as it whirled about her skeletal, tall frame. Happiness gleamed in her green eyes. They flanked...

Riding a Cock-Horse to Banbury Cross.(Short Story)
September 22, 2001... Hands delicately poised one upon each knee, Eulalie sits upright upon a wing chair, very much in the fashion of Victorian times. Eyes fixed upon the nineteen-and-a-half inch screen before her, she feels a now familiar but (unwelcome) tingling...

The Interpreters: Soyinka's Prose Style. (Literary Criticism).(Critical Essay)
September 22, 2001... A writer's first task is to make himself understood by his intended audience so that he may stimulate and motivate them into intellectual, social or political action. To do this, the writer must be committed to his subject of dicourse to the...