Poems, Short Stories and Write-ups
Day 1


Diseases have increased the toll of deaths
giving no exception – not even pets
nor give respect to any sect
save the lucky ones that early-detect.
At the assumption of all diseases as a set –
HIV, COVID-19 et al as the set,
all these are of a set – a finite set,
with a countable number of casualties, though we fret.
Ever wondered what will be the universal set –
and other killer diseases as its subset –
making its victims elements of an infinite set.
Yes, infinite for it’s rampant within the infamous sect.
Yes, the universal set is hunger –
powerful enough to move a meek man to anger.
Our prayer to the One remains “save is from this killer”
that is among diseases the deadliest.
© D-Antidote


Thirst is dangerous.
Thirst can actually be the worst.
A thirsty man can’t be ferocious,
he is too weak to burst.
Hunger can be mild.
An hungry soul can keep the drive.
But an hungry man is said to be mad,
I guess he still has strength to strive.
So we need to look out for hunger,
’cause unlike thirst that calms the nerve,
Hunger gives anger
and anger doesn’t preserve.


My eyes crawl out of their sockets
like the angry termites.
My throat; a dry spring of desert
and the tummy; the hot crescent of summer.
My bones; a tiny firewood that clamours.
So also the blood ripples like the leaky sun.
What if I die of hunger?
I beg for bread and on billions.
My dates are rotten so there I’m starving.
Rain precipitates to plunder my treasury
My flesh is fed with famishment.
No food to fill my pouch.
What if I die of hunger?
Bring your bowl to pity my plight
Be my nurse to replete my archery of bulge.
What if I die of hunger?
© βαπur


I really wish to take my pen and write 
but the hunger in me has a great might.
It batters me without mercy all night 
and calls me out during the day for a fight. 
Though I want to flee the house to the field, 
maybe I can find what to use as a shield 
but I’m forced to stay with H like we’re married. 
There’s a virus out there that kills, so they say. 
But the one within has been killing ‘e don tey’. 
© Witty_Pen 🖋 


As night settles with day to takeover,
I wake up with vigor to give life a makeover.
Too many at times, times are many
to the kitchen I gaze for help; if any.
Often times I fight battles within;
battles that sometimes threaten my breathing.
The hospital wall of pains echoes my name.
I dare not decline not even at the sight of shame.
At the laboratory of pains, I tested positive
and was wheeled to the care intensive.
I became subdued by the power of anger,
with signs showing the presence of the disease – hunger.
I knew a better death not ending in the grave.
For its pain is stronger than even the brave.
I learnt this only when I got the news of a cure.
In fairness to truth hunger is a disease for sure.


Hunger, a mysterious feeling of
my body and soul.
Is it greed for satisfaction or
for devouring?
Hunger, you come around in
every area of my life.
Sometimes, I lose the sense of want.
Am I hungry for something or greedy for it?
When I have nothing to satiate you,
you continually slash my inwards.
You drain me, feeling like an empty husk.
You are among the masses who can’t satisfy you,
you reap their lives for your satisfaction.
I enjoy the pleasure of satisfaction after hunger yet,
you never leave, always around.
I scorn the slash and burn you give.
Are you a curse or a blessing?
I’m yet to find out.
© Sempiternal Melody Phoenix(S.M.P)


Fire in the bosom, the belly gave a
strange song; the bowel is enlarged.
Hunger is a taskmaster
in the realm of scarcity, all of
its victims endure pain;
all helpless at its command.
Many with good forms became
deformed, those that were able
became disable, others with stamina
were robbed off their strength.
Lack of meal is not a good testimony,
hunger isn’t something to joke about.
It is deadly; it kills faster than cancer.
Its operation, no petting can counter.
Show some love; feed the hungry,
save a life and preserve a generation.
© Pope-Chris.


The harshness of the sun penetrates deeper
when families have nothing to kill the hunger.
Last night was full of narrations
as we gathered to sober under the grey moon.
We are at the peak of suffering
as hunger has caused aches in our hearts.
It doesn’t matter when it started,
we plead for its end desperately.
When we heard of palliative relief across the street,
we followed straight without a second thought.
Alas! Our discovery was disheartening –
it was nothing but a joke.
How then do we survive?
Hunger wrecks the family members –
brothers moan of headaches,
sisters mewl of stomach pain.
Our lives revolve round bands of aches and pains.
© PenAdrenalin


I’ve known great pains of life,
but nothing compares to the heart in strike;
hunger, a great killer of heart.
I’ve heard the cries of an hungry Man,
’cause I was once an hungry Man.
His heart-beat sounds like maa.
I’ve seen through the Earth,
in the Earth of apex Earth.
Hunger, beater of man’s heart.
Hunger teaches me how to knee and pray,
to work hard, to stay awake and lay,
so that my soul won’t stray away.
Hunger is a heart prey.
© Oluwayimikaakiri


A gun without the bullet is a rod.
A merchant, without transaction is a joker.
A peacock without pride is a carcass.
Human without feeding becomes a corpse.
Food; support system for the body, mind and soul,
without getting it, mortification will prey like the raven bird.
Hunger: a mortification tool, for we eat to live.
© Ogar Theresa


In total lockdown –
movement seized,
daily income stopped –
all thanks to the world threatening COVID-19.
People are dying
as they cannot work from home –
no money means no food.
Families are struggling to keep wards safe.
Parents are dying,
leaving the eldest child to take care of siblings –
food, water, shelter, protection –
must the eldest now provide as he grows thinner.
Hunger is a respecter of none,
a killer of any and many,
and a threat to nations.
Hunger is indeed a killer.


I have heard of so many diseases,
that cause unease.
I have heard of infirmities,
that turn people to liabilities.
So many drugs
that bring one to cure.
But why have we forgotten that something kills faster than disease?
Why is it not in the consciousness that without food, there is no peace?
Hunger can bring agony,
it can make a happy man sad.
It can also make bonds of friends
as strong as top bond.
Food brings life.
© Ebunife


We are a poor nation faced with hunger (and) virus.
Though our past heroes left for us great treasures,
but we now walk on precipice preyed on by vultures;
Just the kind described by Kelvin Carter’s picture.
Our then busy streets, now visited by COVID-19.
Then we vividly retreated from it,
now hunger chased us back into the streets
as we try to find something to eat.
The poor widow says “my sons, let us eat and die”
‘For we live to die, it’s just a matter of time”
Which is greater, hunger or the virus?
Would hunger kill us? or kill the virus?
Maybe, just maybe one can make one spare us!
“Maybe, just maybe God would intervene fast”
If only we use this great hunger to pray and fast.
Let’s be steadfast, God shall heal our land.
© Jigs Michael


The rumbling sounds from his stomach said it all.
He looked weak with his eyes swollen,
his skin looked pale and so unhealthy.
A onetime hefty man has now become empty.
Not only was he physically weak,
his spirit man was devastatingly weak too.
Without the physical food,
the spirit cannot even be willing to be equipped.
He was empty and blank
for all he needed to get food, he lacked
and there was no one to help him.
His dreams were starved to death too.
Only if he had something to eat,
he would have had the strength to forge ahead,
he would have had the fighting spirit to attain greatness,
but hunger killed him and emptied him of all.
© Eriikeoluwanimi


Fasting and prayers will end,
with edibles that strengthen the body.
Hunger strike will reach its limit,
one alert of joy will slaughter that.
Days go dark with no power.
Inside house the body locked down;
manna from heaven is shut down,
food in store goes down.
For virus’ sake we use an hide out,
within the belly, worms cry out.
Not even water can help us out;
worm’s voice we hear from inside out.
Our intestines grovel feeds on,
most faith can’t carry on.
Faces grow pale and bone weakened;
hunger more deadlier than COVID.
© AfolaOluwa


It can’t be killed,
it can’t be stopped
and it can’t be embraced.
An enemy of the elites,
a friend to the poor.
It stays in the dark
waiting to consume the light.
It clears its path,
unless it is resisted.
Everybody knows its source
but only a few can stop its course.
© Ifeoluwa


In a crawling wink I haven’t thought of,
it grabbed me at the right corner of my belly.
I looked around for aids.
“Hey! Wait, you liar”,
that’s what I heard from a far.
Without mincing words,
I spoke with my legs for a faster race.
But, I need something, maybe something light
to quench the non stop quest of my hunger.
If no hand had been stretched to me,
probably the hunger would have been
a killer disease.
© Waleeyah Olalekan.


There’s a one I know whose face is unknown.
Like a thief in the night, he comes with a fight.
Steely arms, armed with knives.
Steely eyes, fierce as the night.
With a cold crawl, I snuck deep into the cold.
The cold jaws of the gun.
Not a plea he heard, with a mite withheld.
Not a cry I shed, near comes the end.
Your voice, have I heard.
Your cry for the cake in the fry.
Your face, I now face.
Staring at you…
© Favour Fasanya


I kill more than most diseases and viruses
yet I don’t make the front page of any paper.
Politicians use me a lot as their accomplices
whenever they intend to engage the pauper.
I am now in full business
as the pandemic is onstage –
it dictates the tune, I am the piper.
I am the popular underrated virus
that shares deaths to many paupers
but will never make it to any paper.
While Corona Virus plays ‘the stay in and be safe’ tune,
I sonorously back up with ‘stay in and have me free’.
The people remain in dilemma
of whether to go out
and die of the famous virus – COVID-19
or stay in and die of the unpopular popular virus – hunger
© Una Reina


The toil hunger is taking on its victims,
is stronger than the named disease – COVID.
Why is our Government blind to this?
They eat in the abundance of wealth
while their people eat from their wastes.
Little or nothing is given to the people.
Poverty, mother of Hunger,
and hunger, handmaid of Death
keep rampaging among us.
Oh, what shall be done?
The government is on its own, so are the people.
Let every man give out of his measures to another.
By so we can rescue ourselves
from this killer disease – HUNGER.
© Miranda_writes


I died!
Not from a disease so ravaging,
that shook the Earth and crippled Nations.
I died!
Not from the pandemic so compelling.
The World stood still and halt came to the creation.
I died!
From a disease that has been from creation,
but never has been seen in this fashion
that I should be held bound in isolation.
Capable yet unable from restriction
to search for what was daily my provision.
Cowered in, I feared for their retribution.
Until it came;
my death from a disease that has been from creation.
© W.I.C

Short stories and Write-ups category


A man, whose stomach never held food once lived his acrimonious life under a wretched roof on my street. Empty, was his store during his living days. He had nothing but one thing. Yes, he possessed one thing.
Perhaps, the Creator decided to be fair enough with him. The Maker decided not to make him lack everything. He had in his hands, a disease. While still on earth, he was companioned by a disease. His soul was suffered by the hands of the deadly disease. The disease had no respect for the hunger dwelling in him.
The malady swayed his life in the in-between the hill of sorrow and the valley of death. At the end, the hunger saved his soul. Hunger killed the illness and also took his soul out of his horrible house to a house under the earth, six feet away.
© M Olaoluwa Olatayo


It wouldn’t be so hard to see a well-to-do guy ordering pizza, hamburger and French fries with ketchup. Also, you won’t be surprised to know that there are people who live on ₦200 daily. After all, everyone recognizes poverty, many knows it and a few mocks it.
Its sibling, hunger, lurks around ghettos, with flies hovering around gutters and cursed dump sites. Hunger has beaten many to death. It has driven many to commit crimes.
My people do say, ‘hunger makes a man count the number of holes in the ceiling’. One might not have heard of people who ate grasses when they fell into the clutches of hunger but it’s true. My people do also say that when hunger is out of the matter, the matter is resolved.
Yes, many people would be better if they were just able to find something to fill the void of their stomach.
© Ummulkhayr


I know you may find this disgusting and as well emotional, but I must say it; this is my story.
I was once a man of nobility sitting in the chair of wealthiness but the catastrophe of life turned me to that man that crawls barefoot with his hands lying before you like an Alfa praying to God. I’m that man with a noisemaking plate singing praise songs and pouring oceans of prayers on you. I’m that man in black that walks covertly into your house in order for him to survive. And I am that man that is always beaten on the ghetto street. Why? My mouth is shut and my belly is yearning for at least a meal per day.
I know I don’t deserve to be a beggar or a thief but hunger, a killer disease, is at the verge of taking my gentle soul.
© Atanda Clinton S.


We all took different positions as we laid down sorrowfully – mother and father separately and we clustered together at a corner.
It’s barely a week and we’re already weak – looking extremely helpless as nothing has entered our stomachs in three days. My daily earner parents have been immensely affected by the lockdown ’cause no going out means no money and no money definitely means no food for our tummies.
We now think it would be better to die of the virus than to die of hunger.
“I guess hunger is deadlier than the virus” said my sister.

© Sanni omobolade


Tunde! Tunde! This wasn’t the first time our neighbours came knocking on our doors, distributing curses and swearing to cut off Tunde’s hands the next time he comes close to their barn.
“Poverty na bastard, mama no worry I go make am”. We knew Tunde’s anthem. We had heard it countless times, but for the stealing of our neighbors foodstuff, this had to stop. Not like I didn’t have my share, but cooking and eating them came with guilt. We are all hungry souls, you either kill the disease or it kills you. Our brother Tunde chose to kill it.

© Praise Okwuchi


Anorexic images flooded the news, hunger is slowly pervading the country like Corona virus, humans skinny to that marrow stared back at me with festering eyes hoping for the next meal. What a malady!!! I mused.
A picture came on, it’s a picture of a mother with two children suckling the marrow of a dead donkey to keep their head above the waters. Enraged I switched off the TV and stood up with steams coming out of my ears, then I started yelling at no one in particular, “starvation is lurking at our doorstep in this country. Hunger is showing its ugly head at us. When will we get out of this sticky cocoon?”
I wailed, those rotten apples we have at the enchealon of power are nothing but vultures waiting for their prey to perish before they can feast on it. “Unfortunately we all are” I chuckled dryly.
© Precious


The day passed by, a stress filled one it was. My whole body saturated in need of something I could perceive summarized it to be hunger.
I had expected something as an outcome, probably funds for the days work. All I could hear from Mr Agabsa the Director, was “No money was received from the headquarters for today’s remuneration”.
My soul sank in depth to a pool of anomalous jinx. I was afraid not to be worn down by the so called hunger that made an history in our household. It reshuffled and decremented us as a plenitude to paucity relatives.
“What would this whole saga cause?” I asked myself. No doubt it would crunch me to dearth.

© Midun


My siblings and I sat round our wooden dinning table which had almost divided into two equal parts, all looking skinny with our bones displaying out like a skeleton.
Our eyes bulged out as a result of us having no food to feast on for days, lying in front of us were our empty plates and spoons… Day after day, this deadly disease which kills gradually feeds on us as a pest for its own survival. Oh! our little means of survival had been taken away from us.
“Nothing kills faster than hunger” I continued with my thoughts… “What other means can we then use to combat this deadly disease which kills faster than you can ever think of?” I questioned myself…
As my bulging eyes ran through my siblings I said to them “is there still hope for the dying us?”.
© Ashade Grace (The pen 🖋 🖋 )


My stomach wall screamed without pity, ’cause the worms in there were fighting a nonstop riot. Screaming “we need food, any food”.
Death whispered into my ears “Come”. Though the call of death I refuse to answer, but the virus keeps eating through my intestine and all my digestive tract. The only cure is food, any food . As the spang of gastric ulcer pain hit through my body without pity, I knew death was near bye to take me home.
Lock down has locked down my stomach and hunger, this killer virus is killing my body and my mind.
Help me!!!

© Benedicta Agagbo


He speaks with heavy cadence, punctuating his words like they would fall off his mouth. He would drag it slowly adding a tail of wisdom at each sentence like the last words of an old man about to be put to dust.
In July 1953, he called and said “Son, the best you could be in politics is a man of purpose, to bring the people to true governance, to eradicate all forms of lies that lie before the eyes. Son, very soon, you will hold power, remember your purpose”.
In July 1953, water gathered in my eyeballs as we gathered around my old man. I can’t remember when last I had water in my eyes. I’m a strong man, and my weakness is not in shedding of ice waters. My tears are not for the death of my old man that suffered at the hands of inflicted hunger by our adversary; hunger that kills faster than diseases. But for my people that are butchered like bush cows that have no shepherd.



Another morning was announced at Agodi, as usual ‘grin! grin! grin!’, the morning bell rang suppressing the voice of the prison Muazeem who was calling to prayer(azhan). The immate began to move out on a single file from each block.
“They are getting set for the day’s work.
But I know my work ends today. Today, I am to be hung for my crimes.” Thousand of thoughts raced in my head as I reminisced on my outside life, thoughts of my life as a leader of No Salary Gang; the terrible and unspeakable things I did, grave crimes I committed and how I and my gang struck fear into the heart of the people. Then my thought trailed to my earlier day when I was driven to the street by hunger at a tender age.
It frails me. I hope my death won’t be in vain. Perhaps paying with my life will atone for the eyes I have shut forever and serve as reparation for the tears I have brought to many. Pity me not!
© ✍️Afoo


I checked for the best of guns. None was as provocative. I had the best of men and minds.
I dealt the best strategy, and roared like a fearless cat.
Till objective told me
‘Sir, you no fit dey fight enemy, still dey feed am’.
And till the end of the war, our bullets wasn’t doing the killing. It was the ravaging and merciless weapon- hunger, that killed – faster than any biological weapons we could think of.
© Akin OLA


Collins nodded his head in annoyance as he waited for his soaked garri (cassava flakes) to swell. “Just three weeks of lockdown and life has been so unbearable” he muttered silently.

Collins picked up the ruffled newspaper the bean cake seller wrapped his package with, he shook off the crust of the ‘beancake’ from the newspaper and read its content “500 PEOPLE DIE OF STARVATION IN KATANGA” was boldly written on the front page of the newspaper. “What a pity!” Collins lamented”. He looked at his garri (cassava flakes), he smiled and nodded his head in satisfaction to what he saw.

Collins opened the next page and gasped at what he saw “A MOTHER KILLED AND ATE TWO OF HER SONS DUE TO HUNGER”. Collins banged his fist on the table angrily and cursed under his breath. He looked down and beheld his precious Garri split over the carpeted floor.

© Barnabas


The fleshy of the peach broke under Ngozi’s teeth, the taste of abacha felt sharp like flash of early morning light, the aroma of abacha was drawing inward to capture the flavour and hold hostage within her mouth.
Enough of the past memory, Ngozi yelled!
She froze, tightened up and oozed within the heat of hunger rubbing off the steadiness of her body, the covid-19 lockdown which has brought hunger with its friends- thorns, fire and pains.
Ngozi’s account balance has suddenly worn a red garment, she glanced through the desert of hopelessness, illusions from her eyes appeared like reservoir of water weighing up and about to burst. “What should I do?” She squeaked! Miraculously, Amaka visited her and became a savior in her darkness.
©Israel Eze(Equity)

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top