Hello, I am
Adedayo Agarau

Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau is a human nutritionist, documentary photographer, and author of two chapbooks, For Boys Who Went & The Arrival of Rain. Adedayo was shortlisted for the Babishai Niwe Poetry Prize in 2018, Runner up of the Sehvage Poetry Prize, 2019. Adedayo is an Assistant Editor at Animal Heart Press, a Contributing Editor for Poetry at Barren Magazine and a Poetry reader at Feral. His works have appeared or are forthcoming on Mineral Lit, Glass, Jalada Africa,Linden Avenue, and elsewhere. Adedayo was said to have curated and edited the biggest poetry anthology by Nigerian poets, Memento: An Anthology of Contemporary Nigerian Poetry. His chapbook, Origin of Names, was selected by Chris Abani and Kwame Dawes for New Generation African Poet (African Poetry Book Fund), 2020. 

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The arrival of rain.

" The Arrival of Rain explores self-discovery over an expanse of torment, heartbreak, empathy, loneliness, and grief—all with a tinge of spirituality, under the shelter of love that keeps trying despite being knocked out. It is a testament to a poet trying to find his way back to himself. It is commendable "

arrival of rain

An Exclusive Interview with Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau.

….One can see that Adedayo’s has screeched and lucid his heart and thought by enlightening us his decision what made him choose reading and writing literature, pouring words in different forms and delight style. Adedayo’s has made a lot of sense from his book “For Boys Who Went”. Our pleasant moment of discussion started on Twitter 6th August, 2019. And am  delighted to welcome him into our interview section. You’re welcome Adedayo. How was your trip? Now to our questions for today….read more

Poets Talk: 5 Questions with Adedayo Agarau.

Konya Shamsrumi: If any of your poems could literarily save a person’s life, which poem would it be and can you describe the person whose life you think it would have saved?….read more

A Cultural Response to Cimate Change profiles the work of the artists in the Unfold exhibition and also proposes a number of creative and innovative responses to climate change aimed at stimulating discourse and a wider engagement with the climate debate. The texts by Gerald Bast, Steve Kapelke, Chris Rapley, David Buckland, Chris Wainwright and Helga Kromp-Kolb provoke, within an educational context, a discussion around what are the legitimate agendas for arts education and arts practitioners, in relation to some of the most pressing and urgent issues of our times.
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Publications

After “At Willard Brook” – Adrienne Rich

What is a country if it takes you to slaughter;
Abram lifting a knife without the name of Jehovah.

The difference between blood and water is
one leans against the other’s tongue.

A knife speaks into a boy’s throat
& the first thing he felt was thirst.

I open your wounds & God’s eyes probe
into mine; your skin was too soft for a knife’s healing.

A country saddles its lineage home;
the skin does not translate to salvation.

Today, at close range, three policemen
were shot. Instead of blood, they bled water.

Instead of water, they bled fruits,
everything aching all at once.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates
— Psalm 24:7


Have you tasted of your god’s anger?
Seraphs leaning into the morning with
swords, we name our house by the blood
of lambs, god’s children hiding the light
of someone’s son under their bed. Am i
still kind, or a long lost mirage of rust?
Pharoah’s disobedience blooming in God’s wrath.
I come from a lineage of rebels. Men
whose wives were queens in their dreams,
whose firstborns are god’s dinner. I bless
my father’s courage, the frog in his throat,
I bless his croak voice, the music of anguish
musing the morning on mourning, the silence
that folds his mouth as someone’s boy dies. 
The lamb does not remember the house of its shepherd.
Moses, is this the price of freedom or God’s anger 
when he thinks of the coming death of his Son?
My childhood of twilight is caught in this moment. 
As a first son, the olive withers and kisses me goodbye.

After Michael Ondateeje’s What we lost

My lover called me a dog because my nose is wet with fear.
In a dream where all is night and nothing is near, I stand
by the shore watching you wreck. A battalion of stars sinking
before the sky. So if God decides to let it rain, I will be feeding you back
to dust, O fear! I wear my father’s dress to war. At the battle,
we dance with names in each other’s mouths. I say I am little,
and you say you are fire. There is power in a mouth that knows
what to say. I am burning the house my father built the night
he crashed against my mother’s sea. Sopona o.
Every road out of your mouth is a fresh ruin. I sit inside.

"

When will you begin that long journey into yourself ? - Rumi

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Know more about me from my bio or from Interviews, Check out my Publications and authored books, and also Contact Me.