FWGE: Two poems by Wisdom Nemi Otikor

My kind of love



You stand low before the ocean

and wonder how mystic it is.

I do not fault you.

I don’t.

You do not see your eyes;

how it draws me in;

and this longing

that builds into a storm

in the crescendo of your touch.

Each day, it brings me home to your feet.





When everything is not enough


Hands that unwind every scar,

make every broken, whole.


Stars to kiss your brow at dawn.

You’ll think I’ll stop.


This body is a devout worship;

turn it as you will


Lips to make prayer of your name

You’ll think it’ll end


Home is your feet

where the earth begins and ends


as I lose my being in your willings

You’ll think this enough


You are my beginning

I have chosen my end.



My soul?






Wisdom Nemi Otikor believes that writing is therapeutic and sees poetry as a course to healing.

He is from Rivers state but wakes up these days to an insomniac Lagos. Home to him is firstly Mom and his two younger brothers, other things can follow.

He is a bubble of laughter in a city of God.


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