February’s edition of Poetry Korna, focuses on poems that reflect resilience, self-compassion, emotional awareness, and the courage to evolve. Works that honours the process of becoming and living beyond the battles we fight within. We are listening for language that carries care, clarity, and hope.

1. Heavy, But Here by Edmans

Some nights
my chest feels like a room
with no windows.

Thoughts echo.
Memories sit beside me
like uninvited guests.

I smile in daylight,
but in the dark
I unravel quietly.

Still…

I wake up.

With swollen eyes
and a trembling heart
I wake up.

And maybe that is my miracle.

Not that I never break,
but that even in pieces,
I choose
to stay.

2. Dear Mama By Lazypo3t

Dear mama,
I’m not the child you used to know,
Neither is the person you want me to be.
Pain and trauma have taken over me,
The everyday struggles are torturing me.

Dear mama,
Ever since you gave birth to me,
I have been fighting battles, each taking a piece of me.
I pray your prayers save me.

Dear mama,
If I don’t make you proud, will you be mad?
Nowadays, I barely survive the day,
How can I make you proud?
I pray every day to discover myself,
So that I will find me.

With all your advice, I still do wrong,
At times like this, I just want to be right
By your side,
Before the tides wash me away.

3. I Am By Not Just Another Writer

sometimes, when the mirror cracks,
and the scented candle goes off,
then it seems so dark;
broken instruments playing your favourite song;

the volume increases—
once funky feet now tiring soles;
my soul wears out,
the colours fade away.

then the ugly nostalgic anime design
reminds me: ugly has so much depth,
and weird is such a funny perception;
broken instruments still make music,
and i am an African Poetry
immortalized like Gbanabom Hallowell.

i am me—perfect—creatively pieced, not broken.
i am me, artistic; Poetry with a sound

4. Untitled Poem By Rahim

In shadows deep where judgments fall like rain,
HE stumbles, scarred by his own reckless flame.
Society’s boot heels grind him into dust,
Whispers of “failure” echo, cold and unjust.
He owns the wreckage—terrible deeds confessed,
Hearts shattered, bridges burned in youthful zest.
Pain carved his soul, a map of loss and regret,
Yet from the ashes, a fiercer spirit begets.
Now, mirrors reflect a man who’s found his light,
Vowing amends beneath the New Year’s night.
For his sister, fierce guardian of his fragile heart,
For Kpukumu, the anchor that won’t let him depart.
He rises, fists clenched against the tide,
“Watch me rebuild,” he roars with pride.

5. I Found Myself By Alusine

I became lost in an unknown world,
‎Chasing shadows that vanish when I reach,
‎Grasping voices that echo but never speak,
‎Mining through my heart to discover the original me.
‎
‎I became a ship adrift on a boundless sea,
‎Whether to sail toward my dream or follow the path I was not meant to be.
‎I stand before two rivers, one dark, one clear,
‎Yet the current of indecision binds my feet.
‎
‎But in the quiet, I found a mirror,
‎Not of glass, but of truth.
‎My dream is worth finding, more than sailing where I was not meant to be.
‎
‎Finally, I have known the person I was meant to be, not a spoken word artist,
‎But a poet who only writes, too shy to hold the mic and breathe life into his poem.
‎
‎I have found myself; I’m no longer lost.
‎I carry myself as the map, and my soul as the compass.

6. Last Gospel By Lazy Po3t

Dear Lord, guide us.
Lead us not into their DMs,
Deliver us from their devilish acts.
For they are not loyal.

In John 3:16,
We’re still following the routine,
And we have a mission to fulfill.
We are on earth to multiply.
So we choose polygamy.

We were not sinners, Until you converted our ribs to Jinnahs. Now we’re struggling to find the right one.

Father Lord,
The ones you created out of our ribs
Are now saying we’re not their type.
Baptize us with patience, as we wait for their late replies, We pray our prayers deliver us, don’t forsake us.

7. Lessons Of The Earth By AJ The Poet

The mountains does not bow to the storms,
Yet welcomes the rain as a friend.
The ocean rages, then falls to calm,
teaching that anger must also rest.
The trees lose their leaves in silence , trusting spring will return with colors.
The sun disappears, then rises again, a promise stitched into every dawn.
And I realize this is a cycle of endings, but within each ending is a seed, a quiet reminder from the earth itself that nothing is ever truly lost.
‎

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