authormartinijir

This tattered leaves shrink as it grows  with lulling children and sullen faced adults. Who curse you O beloved country? Many  impersonates truth but clone with linings of fraud  incorporated with deceit and corruption perfumes. How come your masses worn silence garments? Can't you see them holding ethnic drums and songs?  Parading the potholes of poverty on unoccupied street. How come many can't conceived the bluff of gold and grains of nature? Instead blood flows the land like honey squash with grapes faces buttered like a seasoning river,  bandits and cultist marauds the street with flute to lull many to timely rest. Your son's rebels for self-aggrandizement hearts are indoctrinated by religion and money rituals  Who have stripe your cloak of peace and progress? O a new heritage plausible in kaftan and deltan clothing  Copyright 2019 by Martin Ijir

“HAPPY SATURDAY WITH AN EMINENT POET” A WEEKLY INTERVIEW ORGANIZED BY POEmarium by Dr. Nk Sharma and WRITERS’ MIRROR, ASSAM INDIA Good Morning and Welcome dear adorable readers and members to “HAPPY SATURDAY WITH AN EMINENT POET” a weekly interview program jointly organized by POEmarium by Dr. Nk Sharma and WRITERS’ MIRROR, ASSAM, INDIA. Today, we present an Interview with dear Martin Ijir, a poet of international repute. Bipul Kalita:-Good Morning dear Sir. You are most welcome to our interview program.You are undoubtedly a popular poet. Our readers will be happy if you say a few words about yourself. Martin Ijir:- I am the Second in family of six, from Nigeria. Read Economics (Education). I am a poet, a teacher, author, an activist, Editor, Humanist and a seeker of true meaning of the Light. Apart from writing I love playing games Bipul Kalita:- What inspired you to be a poet? Who left an indelible impact on your notional-emotional outpourings? Martin Ijir:- God inspired ...

The corncob has a moralist sanctuary pumped in their ventricles as a seeping moon appearing on the dimensionless sky. The acute remarks of looking for the veins which the corn holds and the hands they grip firmly on. This sourceless medium can be soughted out when the opaque sky is whipped by the mouth of jasmine-words, a great penetration is attained on vulva of the eternal abode. What becomes man when art is lost! The whereabouts of supply that nourished the soul, and paints the spirit of depressed heart to surge self in laughter. Beyond the sill of window pane I have stand waiting for the sunless rays of my soul to have a cornice of successive praises to my maker. Each time this art is done I found the art that makes me a man. The parody of life, gets exhaustive in me and I seek always the renewal of this painting as a breathe in me. There are dozen of thoughts jutting in me, and ordering the enduring contentment of sound of the night and briskly of a new day. I sighed often when th...

I need a glass cup of water, To quenched my thirst  From the trap of war. You discuss about career When armoured carriers Rummage through my community All I need is a glass of water To kill the taste of blood By sanctifying lives to have a life. Then we can discuss about  Future. Please, help to pass  A glass of cup to end the war. (c) Martin Ijir 2025