YELF ARTIST OF THE MONTH. JANUARY 2021
Hajaarh Muhammad Bashar lives in Minna, Niger State where she writes from. She holds a degree in Microbiology from Al-Hikmah University Ilorin, Nigeria. She is presently undergoing her Masters Degree in the Federal University of Technology Minna where she studies Medical
Microbiology. Her works appeared in Gold dust Magazine, Art-muse fair, Voice of the aspirant’s anthology, Art and Nature anthology of Free poetic Universe, Late night blues anthology of PIN poetry chapbook series, SETU’Mar19 anthology of women, power and creativity, Amaravati
Poetic Prism, ANA Review 2019, Weight of Years Anthology of Afroanthology creative nonfiction 2020, Isele Magazine 2020, and other literary sites. She emerged the winner of the weekly poetry planet contest themed ‘Coffee’. She was both shortlisted and Longlisted for
the JB Afenfia flash fiction and poetry contest 2018. She was also longlisted for the Syncity Anniversary anthology prize 2019. She emerged as the first runner-up in the Sevhage Short Story Prize 2019 and the second runner up in the Poetically Written prose contest 2019. Hajaarh was a participant in the Art-muse fair creative writing workshop and the MinnaBaf workshop for Nonfiction. Some of her works and interviews can be traced online. She is a lover of cats and nature.
Social Media handles:
Facebook: Hajaarh Muhammad Bashar
Instagram: Naturebeay, & hajaarhmb_stories
LinkedIn: Hajaarh Muhammad Bashar
1) ONE SEED, ONE HOME.
Scraps of umbilical cords
tie the flesh of our being
as the sole of our existence.
We are seeds
We germinate with prosperity
with the mark of time and truce.
For years, the soil that holds our stands
is stained by blood of clans
by the fury of masses in Kaduna
the scorn that comes from the mobs
in zamfara and Jos, and the bleeding pond of Edu
Their toys are sources of brother’s wails and death
And those who have fallen are the dead seeds from the country’s poor harvests.
Let’s overthrow corruption
She’s a troll who deserves our wrath
Her scent is a stench to our soil
She’s a glutton, she fills her belly
with the food from our sweats
and leaves us to the whispers of
poverty and starvation.
We seek to dwell
under a roof of hope
that’s painted with amity
In a house built with blocks of love and trust
Let’s build a skyscraper that will raise high
and wear around it a necklace of clouds
for our coexistence.
I dreamt of a country
whose canopy is an array of bleached sky.
Where two heads become one,
and a group of seeds birth a tree.
A home where oneness is our identity.
Tradition and religion remain just a norm but peace
will be our flag.
For the children whose bones are still unmade
and hearts still free of stain.
Let’s bond our roots once more and become one.
One seed, one home.
2) I SHALL TELL YOU
I shall tell you of those
They, whose feet cracks underneath
Lips quiver in search of their feed
Rumbling bellies with silent wails
Searching for home and a heavenly roof
Whose voices ring with thirst
Deserted and alone in the midst of strife
Surrounded by howls and threatening sights
And argot song of death upon their ears
Whose bowls hang around their necks
And days of hunger strikes a blow
Leaving them to seek and cry alow
Under the face of hungry days
Whose fleshes shrink
And hide behind their bones
And eyes shed pain
Their hopes are washed by rain
That shower upon them with pain
Merry days gone, replaced by storm
With a hurricane of death
And the songs of war