Brunel University African Poetry Prize

Under the auspices of the Fund, one of its key facets will be the establishment of an additional prize for poetry, the Brunel University African Poetry Prize, awarded for a selection of poems by an African poet. The Brunel University African Poetry Prize is a major new poetry prize of £3000 aimed at the development, celebration and promotion of poetry from Africa. The prize is sponsored by Brunel University and partnered by Commonwealth Writers, the Africa Centre UK, and the African Poetry Book Fund USA. British-Nigerian writer, Bernardine Evaristo, has initiated the prize. Prairie Schooner, one of the leading literary journals in the USA, having published continuously for eighty-five years, has committed to publishing some of the work of the winning poets of the Brunel University African Poetry Prize. Wasafiri, the leading British journal of international writing, will also publish the winner. Similar arrangements will be pursued with other major literary journals in the United Kingdom and the US.

In collaboration with the African Poetry Book Fund, the Brunel University African Poetry Prize will develop a series poetry workshops and courses in Africa in its efforts to provide technical support for poets writing in Africa.

There will be a distinguished panel of judges including the poet Kwame Dawes and the academic Mpalive Msiska. There will also be an advisory committee. All to be announced.

Eligibility

The prize is for ten poems exactly in order to encourage serious poets. Therefore ten poems exactly have to be submitted in order to be eligible for this prize. These poems may, however, have been published. Only poets who have not yet had a full-length poetry book published are eligible. (Poets who have self-published poetry books or had chapbooks and pamphlets published are allowed to submit for this prize.)

Only poetry written in English is eligible. Translated poetry is accepted but a percentage of the prize will be awarded to the translator.

The prize is open to poets who were born in Africa, or who are nationals of an African country, or whose parents are African.

Submission Period

The prize opens for entries on 1st September 2012 to 30th November 2012. and the winner will be announced at the end of April 2013.

**PLEASE DO NOT SUBMIT POEMS UNTIL THE PRIZE OPENS FOR ENTRIES.**

Contact.

For more updates and additional information go to http://www.africanpoetryprize.org/ or contact Bernardine Evaristo at Bernardine.Evaristo@brunel.ac.uk.

The Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets

The African Poetry Series has been made possible through seed funding from philanthropists, Laura and Robert F. X. Sillerman, whose generous contributions have facilitated the establishment of the African Poetry Book Fund.  Mr. and Mrs. Sillerman have also welcomed the use of their name for the First Book Prize for African Poets.

Prizes

The winner receives USD $1000 and publication through with the University of Nebraska Press and Amalion Press in Senegal.

Eligibility

The Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets will only accept “first book” submissions from African writers who have not published a book-length poetry collection. This includes self-published books if they were sold online, in stores, or at readings. Writers who have edited and published an anthology or a similar collection of other writers’ work remain eligible.

An “African writer” is taken to mean someone who was born in Africa, who is a national or resident of an African country, or whose parents are African.

Only poetry written in English is eligible. Translated poetry is accepted but a percentage of the prize will be awarded to the translator.

No past or present paid employees of the University of Nebraska Press or Amalion Press, or current faculty, students, or employees at the University of Nebraska, are eligible for the prizes.

When to Send

Manuscripts are accepted annually between September 15 and November 15.

Manuscript

Poetry manuscripts should be at least 50 pages long.

The author’s name should not appear on the manuscript. All entries will be read anonymously. Please include a cover page listing only the title of the manuscript (not the author’s name, address, telephone number, or email address). An acknowledgements page listing the publication history of individual poems may be included, if desired. No application forms are necessary. You may submit more than one manuscript.

The Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets accepts electronic submissions ONLY. to submit go on the websitehttp://africanpoetrybf.unl.edu/?page_id=21#brunel 

Entry Fee

A USD $20 processing fee must accompany each submission.

Notification

The winner is announced on the African Poetry Book Fund website on or before January 1. Results are emailed shortly thereafter.

Please send any questions to info@africanpoetrybf.unl.edu.

Number nine...

He saw a land

But he didn’t know he was going to die

It is called number nine

He bought the land

He built a house

He died nine years later

He left no will

He left two daughters

He left two wives

Alice and the other

He left a hungry pack of wolves; extended family

Prance and pounce

Fight and kill

Who shall have number nine?

Not the girls?

Definitely not Alice or the other

But we wolves have a right to it

The war broke out

No longer was it to be called a family

Alice the blunt woman,

She knew she had a right

She knew number nine was hers

The wolves decided to shut her up

They stuck a knife to her throat but she couldn’t be killed

Then they gave her the drug of insanity

She did shut up

This sent tears and a warning to the girls and other wife

Don’t fight this war

This war meaning the wolves and the land

Pulling knives and holding futile meeting

The constant; wasting enormous time.

Time was flying

Life changed

People were dying

Number nine wasn’t worth fighting for anymore

But the deed had been done

Alice was made to shut up

Just because of number nine

Just because of one flimsy house

Just because she had been Ajayi’s honest first wife.

By Cecil White (Nigeria)

Artwork source: mtc.ca.gov

In The Corner I Hid Myself In...

In the corner i hid myself in,
i saw things i guess weren't for my eyes.
I saw the hate you have for me within,

the betrayal and what hurts me the most is your serpent lies.

I realised your weakness was to
appreciate me,
your strength was to keep pulling me down,
your ability was to mislead thee,
throw me in the ocean of your deceit and let me drown.

I observed that you're only smiling because you've got white teeth,
you're alive because it's a crime to kill you.
I then concluded that you're the reason my everyday felt so blue,
that you're only here because you're trapped in my tender and loving care...this damn super glue.

In the corner i hid myself in
i saw what no one has ever seen.
I saw that your heart is like a dustbin,
a place where no one has ever been.

I tried to close my eyes
and forbid myself from looking,
but i happened to note that you're the reason my faith in love dies,had you known how i hate
poking.

I held my breathe trying not make
noise
but your absence thou you were present was too chaotic.
It felt like i had no choice
but to sit there,recite a poem in my heart for the hurt I'm
enduring makes me poetic.

In the corner i hid myself in,
i died deep inside,
my negativity's grew wide,
i went from pillar to post asking for peace...God knows I've tried,
i bet you're expecting me to let this piece of combined words
slide...
however my tears have already been dried.

In the corner i hid myself in,
i came out strong
and wise,
for you're never wrong
but life is like playing with a dice,
the game might take long,
just make sure at the end of this game you won't be the looser
that cries...

By  Nomthandazo Tsembeni  "Lola-Lady Black Poet"  ( South Africa ) 

picture credits:  cc-writes.blogspot.com

My Best friend.....

The sun has become my bestfriend..
In it warmness I have felt needed and valued..
Takes me in and warms me up..
Never goes away until it is sure I'm safe..

The sun is my bestfriend..
It gives me headaches..
Sure it thinks its helping out but it burns my skin and turns me dark..

The sun is my bestfriend..

I cannot wait till it creeps in my bedroom window..
Smiling at me and glowing..
When its not there its dull and cold..
But it burns my skin and gives me headaches...

By Thuthula Sodumo ( South Africa )

picture credits:news.bbc.co.uk

ARE WE STILL SLAVES?

Black men bleed dead on Zuma's ground
No more to hear the piercing sound
Of white man's bullets flying by
Nor shake their head, or breathe a sigh!

So I ask, are we still slaves?

When...

Once and again on running track
Bolt beat them all, a tall man black
And did you not all clap with glee
For all the watching world to see?

And...

Black Barack kid from Kenya's hill
He rules sure at Capitol Hill;
Did not your wives and young'uns
Blow loud for him the victory Horns?

Say...

Did not black Ben with coal like skin
Make a miracle no eyes have seen?
Did Ben not share the Binder boys
And let them both to pick their toys!

Yes...

I'm sure you know Emeagwali
And sure you fear the black Ali.
What would you say of Luther King
Or Soyinka of whom we sing?

So...

Would Maya Angelou not weep
And Stevie Wonder purse his lips?
What would you say to Jesse Jack
And every great one with skin black?

Please tell me, are we still slaves?

*a tribute to the senseless Marikana killings

By Kukogho I Samson (Nigeria )

Once for Zambia....

‘To Dr.Levy Mwanawasa & the people of a great country called Zambia” 

We held hands in prayer
In a moment we all treated rare

And watched the skies
As we saw the Eagle rise

In the freshness of Dawn
Tears rolled down cheeks of strong and noble men
Their Hearts heavy
For the one and only Levy

We all stand in relation
One and strong for the nation
Like a tormented child hurting
With our hearts heavy
Counting our love
As we remember Levy

We pave way all
For a great soul
A good day has gone
Yet embraced by Gods Love and never alone

Deprived of Excellency,
Loyalty and Honor
Yet we sing for Zambia
So proud and free

May God remember you all my people,
My Land and the blood that flows under this black skin
Of the Zambian soil
Bless my Soul oh God, once for Zambia
And for the Nations.

By  Clement Suze ( Zambia )

picture credits:

businessinfocus.blogspot.com