Get to know Emminex, the Game of Thrones fan and Opera Mini user who writes poems inspired by fantasy books he finds in the Worldreader app
Emminex is a very avid reader who reads for at least four hours every day on his mobile phone. He loves writing poetry and seeing animated films. He’s a huge Game of Thrones fan and he particularly loves fantasy books because they broaden his imagination. Here’s what he had to say about reading on his phone:
Emminex enjoys reading while commuting
“Reading books on my mobile phone has made it easier for me to access my choice of books anywhere, any time. And like the saying goes, readers are leaders. I am leading because I am reading.”
He recently graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry from Kogi State University. Here’s what he had to say when he graduated:
“I really do lack words to express myself right now. God is faithful! Even against overwhelming odds, he showed himself strong and mighty. Someone may not understand what I’m saying here. But I know what I’ve seen and been through. Mama, I made it!”
People across Africa have spent more than 4 million hours reading in 2018
On this International Literacy Day, Opera Mini and Worldreader are celebrating that people across Africa have read for more than 4 million hours so far this year. Emminex has contributed to this milestone and his story is one of more than 414,000 people reading every month across Africa.
Emminex writes poems about many things Some of his favorite themes are about love, his country of Nigeria and the self.
Here’s a selection of his poems that we love:
A feeling so inexplicable
A mystery that eludes human mastery.
Once it besiege your mind,
Every sense of control tends to vanish
You get drowned in the sea of obsession
Obsession with nothing but concession
Concession so obvious
But you still fail to realize
Even when its apparent and staring at your real eyes.
Have you ever tasted love?
Just a nibble of it
Sends you soaring in the skies of ecstasy
A mere taste of its cup
Gets you flowing with the ebb and tide of intoxication
An intoxicating feat not achievable even by the strongest of drinks.
Just a thought of someone you are in love with,
Your brain chemistry changes
Pleasure hormones gets it deluged;
Oxytocin or probably dopamine
Sending pleasure impulses down your spine.
You begin to cherish each moment
Every opportunity with that person.
Sometimes you get sleepless nights too
Regurgitating those lovely moments you shared
Hours that seem no longer than seconds.
To you the person becomes flawless
Little wonder love is said to be blind
Blindness so invisible with deep ends
On whose pillars our feelings depends
Have you ever fallen from the heights of love?
Its a fall you will hope never ends!
behind my throat
lay nestled the lyrics of an unsung song,
a song too heavy for my tongue to
shoulder, for i shudder at the sound
of my own voice like a pair of jaws
clattering to the frosty percussions
of mother nature
you see, songs are dark rooms
where I hide my feelings, from the glaring
bloodshot eyes of stark reality
like a lost wind,
i whistle tunes of despair into the deep
depths of the ears of the mountains,
and find soothing melodies in the eyes
of grey clouds squirting warm tears
i don’t know why, but sometimes
i feel like a song, lost in the mouth
of an amateur singer
do you feel the same way too?
i thought of writing a sweet song
but my pen got quadriplegic as soon
as it kissed the whiteness of the paper;
the pen craves for a black paper,
they are good for writing sour songs
don’t ask me why this poem sounds
this way, i didn’t write any word
the ink just splashed on the pages
and these texts came staring at me
the things my eyes have seen
are like broken bottles dissolved in the throat
of an infant, who has barely understood
the pleasures snuggled in colostrum;
they are flames, flourishing like flowers,
searing through the skin of men,
making barbecue of what was once called flesh.
i think of Plateau, how the human body
made mimicry of a sketchpad, with machetes
for pencils; sketching a gory artwork.
the dam that bar the pond behind my eyelids
are broken; the whites of my eyes
have taken to the colour of my blood’s essence.
i scribble these lines, not with the ink
the manufacturer shoved into my pen,
but with blood painfully resolved in tears.
i weep for my nation…