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Osy Mizpah Unuevho

Osy Mizpah Unuevho

Osy Mizpah Unuevho studied geology at the Federal University of Technology, Minna, Nigeria. He says rocks and their small rooms are not his only interests. He writes, reads & collects poetry; Pneuma music & paintings; and loves to go up hills & the sea & meet new people. He is a member of the Hill Top Creative Arts Foundation, Minna where he helped as mentor & editor and has participated in creative workshops & book review meetings. His works have begun appearing quietly on electronic magazines: Lunaris Review; Praxis MagOnline; Poets in Nigeria (PIN); Pangolin Review; AfricanWriter & chapbooks (Praxis MagOnline). He believes all the above do not matter but that his neighbor loves God too.

 
 
 GreenhouseGreenhouse by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
I believe this. I sing yes to the flower beforethe earth unclenches what is in her fist— a crib to lie down in / a book of women & men passing down to a generation
 A song of new wineskinsA song of new wineskins by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
          my daughter speaks of the hunger in all of us; calls it apostmark of noise in the place where i burn old things expected to pass away—
 Come to meCome to me by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
pick a choice object of the earth, it is not today these hands river in places lacking stars in their death seasons in our eyes, the hunger of beauty
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 Poem for when an angel appeared briefly in the low lightPoem for when an angel appeared briefly in the low light by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
perhaps, it was an angel appearing briefly in the low light to bear witness to this rippling of fields in the hip. by this, i learn something about power— about the earth &
 The Thing I Found Remaining Was a Brand New DayThe Thing I Found Remaining Was a Brand New Day by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
You are good, not everybody, at picking dates to visit; at dropping visions in my sleep. Under the sun, my fears listen to know if the coast is clear; then change into living waters. It must have been a sec
 AscensionAscension by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
Previously published on Praxis MagOnline Chapbook “Around This Fire 5”Not that speaking out was sin. No sir, I was of imprisoned light, longing for sunset air outside a congealed baptism of old earth. A boy once
 Open fiercely. Open gently, the wombOpen fiercely. Open gently, the womb by Osy Mizpah Unuevho
Abby asks if it is hard being a soldier. what the poem said in the end was strangely prophetic.     a righteous heart?
 
 
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