The DADA bloGazine is a perfect platform for delivering in part on our promise to break fresh talent on the scene and to serve up delighful reading! We would also post news snipets, updates and photos from our activities at various events and activities involving our authors from time to time.
This season, we will bring you fresh writing from three of our authors starting with the Short Story The Morning After by Jumoke Verissimo, yes you've enjoyed her poetry, now read spankling new prose from her, courtesy the DADA bloGazine!
Are you a writer? Do you love DADA books? Do you just absolutely love to share your writing? Proceed with the following steps if you want to post on the DADA bloGazine:
1. Write a truly amazing story or poem that would knock us out of our socks (not more than 5,000 words, make sure your work is well edited, works fraught with typos and grammatical errors would not be considered).
2. Sign up on our website (www.dadabooks.com) as a member
3. Post your story / poem on the DADA bloGazine (only fresh and original writing please, i.e. ONLY unpublished works written by YOU).
4. Wait to see if we actually get knocked out of our socks. If we post your work on the DADA bloGazine (at one time or the other), just know we'd be searching for those socks right after!
5. If your work gets published, tell all your friends, then tell all your foes. At DADA books, we don't discriminate between friends and foes when it comes to good writing, we believe it is the fundamental right of every human being to know where it's happening.
Caveat: The DADA bloGazine is a free service and is rendered without prejudice as an online community for writers and those who enjoy good, quirky and exciting writing. No royalty is paid any author who posts on the blog neither is any reader charged for enjoying the content. All copyrights reside with each individual author. We at DADA books are not obliged to publish all works offered by members of the website for posting and would jolly well go ahead to publish exactly what we like!
|Posted by Oluwafunminiyi on May 18, 2012 at 7:50 AM||comments (0)|
Take for instance, my life at a glance
I wake up early, with darkness about
The pressure of my piss awakens the cockerel
Somewhere in my sadness, I think of you
Why am I here and where is my gain?
I wake to run, I strive all day
Noon is here, the sun shines still
I'm making hay, See, I'm paving your way
Please let me think, you drunken fool!
Your mind is creaking, you're close to madness
I've blocked my ears, keep cursing and threatening...
|Posted by Okey Egboluche on February 7, 2012 at 6:05 PM||comments (98)|
The herdsman stood some distance away, fixating his gaze on me. I made no gestures to call him nor did I speak up to greet him. Like the man,the animals were looking hungry and wretched.
“Malam, could you spare me some hay, the only place we saw green grass was heavily guarded. And our cows are dying?”
I looked at the man closely and I could feel despair written all over him. He supported his hands on a stick which he held over hi...Read Full Post »
|Posted by Augustine Ogwo on September 23, 2011 at 2:05 PM||comments (0)|
The warrior in me was gradually evaporating. As I trudged towards my home, I straightened my collar. I wondered what Chinyere would say to me when I give her the news. My wife was a nagging wife and I never had to complain about her nature because of my contributions to her fate. We had been married for just three years and she had gradually become a full-blown housewife. Whenever I came home from the railway corporation where I worked, a difference was experienced at home. Sometimes I came h...Read Full Post »
|Posted by Fred Nwonwu on May 10, 2011 at 9:49 AM||comments (0)|
For weeks now, a strange silence seems to saturate my auntie’s house, at least for me, a feeling of tranquillity behind which a sense of dreadful anticipation lurks. Yes, there is laughter, now and then floating up the stairs, especially when the young ones return from the classes that appear to be their only reason for being. I rarely join in the laughter. Even when I do, it is forced. As false as the illness I feign to avoid the family time Aunty Chidi said is an integral part of ...Read Full Post »
|Posted by Augustine Ogwo on February 8, 2011 at 11:03 AM||comments (1)|
It was Sundaynight and people were engaged in erotic-scenes by the hour on the giant LCDscreen that stood tall at a corner of the sitting-room. Girls stood carelesslyalong the streets, whorls of smoke from cigars formed a vain atmosphere, and anotorious sex-hawker was poised for action tonight as she hoped business willthrive even as the clouds gathered carefully. A disguised vigilante-crew wascombing the area in a danfo bus withlarge hopes of making some money from the criminals who were fai...Read Full Post »
|Posted by DADA books on January 3, 2011 at 1:49 AM||comments (90)|
By: Ayodele Arigbabu.
It was Musiliu who said, garri contained cyanide and was therefore dangerous for human consumption. It was I who drew the conclusion, that little wonder the country was in such a mess, if we were all consuming so much cyanide, our brains were half-asleep half the time, we were slowly committing suicide because we loved to eat so much garri. Musiliu and I sort of stayed off the cassava meal after we had that conversation. We had pretensions that we woul...Read Full Post »
|Posted by Raymond Elenwoke on January 1, 2011 at 7:26 PM||comments (1)|
OF DEATH AND A WHOLE NEW LIFE
So you sit and wait, for what? You have no idea, just that you must wait. You sit at your desk, watching, seeing everything and everyone in a whole new light. Your colleagues move about, without the slightest inkling of what you are feeling right now. But what are you feeling?
You smile at one colleague, nod at another. All around you is a buzz of acti...Read Full Post »
|Posted by DADA books on December 26, 2010 at 3:53 AM||comments (340)|
Today (26th December) is Jumoke Verissimo's Birthday and she wants a quiet one this year unlike last year when we had cake and wine on her behalf, but in DADA Country, we only obey rules to a certain extent, do give our poet laureatte a shout out on facebook will ya? And in the spirit of the season, we are sharing new writting on our website....
Visit the dadabloGazine on www.dadabooks.com, look out for Jumoke's sizzling hot new short story titled The Morning After and sho...Read Full Post »
|Posted by Sylva Nze Ifedigbo on December 18, 2010 at 8:41 PM||comments (93)|
A short story by Sylva Nze Ifedigbo
“Fiii Diii Fiii !!!” The loudspeaker boomed. The excited crowd responded. Clenched fists waved in the air.
“FiiDii Fiii !!!” Musa opened his mouth and closed it. He had been shouting the same response all day. It was now afternoon. The sun was hot over head. Its rays struck the heads of the people in the crowd and the tarmac beneath their feet.
Musa used...Read Full Post »