Sweet wreath from the sky
Too soon did our paths part
How I often wondered why
Ever were you near my heart
Your scent is ever calming
But your flowers excite my core
Passing these days longing
Wanting, desiring you even more
Your beauty now shines bright
In a once cold darkening place
Giving a familiar warming light
To this dull disappearing space
Your reappearance captures heart and mind
Now will we go forward or remain left behind
The anniversary of your treason
Disturbs the air—again! Like every year
Floating, whispering, the one real reason
You left me; the name never leaves my ear.
“Him!” a name I can’t even speak, wouldn’t dare.
For it would cause chaos and confusion
Too daunting, distances too far to bear,
Can’t even comprehend that illusion.
You left me here to sit—sick! And the thought
Of you and him in that beautiful embrace…
It’s a damn shame what you did! I OUGHTA!!!!!
Just, calm down—please! Dear Lord, please give me grace.
The love you gave—your perfect portrayal,
The love you took—your perfect betrayal.
Submitted for Olusegun Adelana's "Betrayal" contest
(Another Name for Gen Y(My Generation)
Beer goggles and Whiskey Rivers,
Pain numbing remedies that exude depression,
Marijuana oxygen and pain killer shivers,
Innocent faces with devilish expression,
Blood red eyes with cocaine explanations,
White lies, cooked up in haste,
For the aforementioned, sell your feelings for a taste!
Young lady, young lady, impossible to find,
What has become of “Daddy’s Little Girl?”
Grew up as billboard, all body and no mind,
Succumbed to degradation just to fit in this world,
Princess? No More!
With bitter wounds and sans support,
Responds to “bxxch” labeled as “whore”
Sex for poison and sex for sport!
Young man, young man, could you bear to walk alone?
With choreographed legs and clay molded spine?
Quoting the majority, speaking with your friends’ tone,
Holding onto shirttails while blindly disregarding lines,
Unprotected sex just to help you feel alive,
Forced to buy diapers with the pennies you have earned,
From one into intoxicated night you did not want to be deprived,
Came a baby by a girl whose name you had to learn!
Young lady, Young man, both working like a slave,
To provide for a family that neither wished to know,
They scream as their dreams get sealed within a grave,
Essential sacrifices because the baby has to grow,
A self-destructive generation, corrupted and vexed,
Generation Y, is Generation XXX
I flipped through the pages of my brain
Hoping the words would spill out from the notes.
Although I didn’t know the letters to play
But once it pops up, I would surely know.
Ideas started dropping in dribs and drabs
But none could wet the ground of my desire.
Its sound I should know with a few playbacks.
All I heard shocked me, till I was tired
So I sought an extra head which I found
Full and small hence so light for my neck
Ideas now flowed ceaselessly as we ploughed
We came so close but could not get there yet
Finally out the blue now appeared
Spillingwillie, the name my blog now bears
A poem dedicated to my friend Onuh Dorcas without whom the name wouldn’t exist.. Hope you love it
Forget me, you; where upon your name shall shine,
Where, therein your heart shall not ever repent,
For by then, I will be gone without a sign
And our love with its flowers shall far be sent,
And thus my part, a lover, done and proven,
For this ain't my love that don't care your future,
But the truth that I will burn in an oven,
Tolerating my broken heart in suture,
Escorting pain along with me to the sea,
To the depths where your eyes and heart shall not reach,
If once you see my son, call him for a tea,
For I shall sing him our love and its songs each,
For now this is all I say when you marry,
That my distance is my love that I carry.
the truth is in the rhyme
of sticks and stones and
things are said all the time
that bleed us 'cause we let 'em
the truth is, that the truth hurts
yet we suffer too, the lie
spoken words thoughtlessly blurted
mistold, mistaken, or misapplied
so what adage do we use to heal
pride bruised from hurtful taunt
good self-esteem and spirit reveal
a self-worth free from want
bones to pick, and stones to toss
won't allow regard to get across
© Goode Guy 2012-12-07
Count thy Blessings
Count thy blessings, name them one by one
Compose thyself as pythons do on their preys
Ignite thy spirit to the rising sun
Rejoice with thy hands for points of thy being.
Compose thy songs with a theme of pure praise
Shout a Holy name thee deemed worthwhile
Wine and dine in the hollow of thy soul-
A resourceful asset for impulses,
For pints of freedom worth warm worthy toast
And radiant of clustered wings like birds.
If by chance thee spot ways to noble course
Count it to thy pride by abstracting lines.
Behold how cute to have survived the game
Count thy blessings aloud one by one.
I could say the name of one.
I could say the name of two.
But in the name of being fair.
Singleling out simply won't do.
I can say this, that I've been graced.
When one's away, one takes their place.
I've come to have respect for both.
But this club don't require an oath.
I'm not too concerned with contest rules.
It's not that I think they're for fools.
But when restrictions bind what ties.
I have to think they're not so wise.
The bottom line for me is this.
If no one commented, I'd surely miss.
I've written this for the kindness of all poets. While a site like this should inspire one to elevate their craft. It's just very nice to have a place where we can share. Kind of like Norm when he walks into Cheers. Where everybody knows your name.
Poems about Allah
In The Name Of Allah
I seek Allah’s protection
Praise be to Allah
The lord of the world
The beneficent, the merciful.
The master of the Day of Judgment,
You do we worship and thine aid we seek,
Guide us to the straight path.
The path of those you have favored,
And not of those against whom you are wrathful,
Nor of those who have gone astray.
His relation with creatures
Many of his creatures are creative.
Known and unknown of varies
In different continent and undiscovered continent
Praise be to thee, thy Lord
Special of his creatures on earth
Man feeling healthy and happy all time
Praise be to thee, thy Lord
Special creatures with special talents
Creating and inventing new things
Praise be to thee, thy Lord
Was saying in cradle
I dear not worship thee and dear not,
I dear not satisfy thee and I also dear not
Bunch of lies at a stage.
Praise be to thee, thy Lord.
Creator looked and warned
Special creatures then shivered,
Echo of shouting and screaming
Then forgiveness was given
Praise be to thee, thy Lord
Creature said, Marvelous, thy Lord is Perfect
And all praises and worship are due to him.
There is no god but He, the living,
The everlasting, slumber touches Him not, nor sleep.
To him belongs all that is in the heavens and on
The earth. Who is there to intercede with Him,
Save by his permission. He knows that before and after them,
And they comprehend nothing of His knowledge,
Save by such as he wishes.
His throne comprises the heavens and the earth.
The preserving of them oppresses Him not.
He is the Most High, the supreme (in glory)
Let there be no compulsion in religion:
Truth stands out clear from error:
Whoever rejects evil and believes in Allah has
Gasped the most trustworthy handhold, that
Never breaks. And Allah heareth and knoweth all things.
Allah is the protector of those who have faith:
From the depths of darkness He will lead them forth into light.
Of those who reject faith the patrons are the evil ones:
From light they will lead them forth into depths of darkness.
They will be companions of the fire to dwell therein (forever).
All praise is due to Him, who has bestowed upon me,
Behold, my Sustainer hears indeed all prayer.
Your Duties to Him
My passionate to him is to worship him
There is no partner or a competitor
I feel my life is to him
My life feels I should be to him, the able
Worship and gives him all he is due to:
And praises his name all the time
Mighty in all his names:
He the beneficent, pray
Today's so-called music is nothing more
Than repetitious, raucous rot performed
By untalented, unaccomplished bores.
Their cacophony is worthy of scorn.
Instead they are held in admiration
By tin ears insensitive to sound.
Instruments amplify modulation
Or it might be the other way around.
Nevertheless, its purpose is to drown
Out feigned singers who couldn’t hold a tune
In a shower lest risking being found
Out. The day will finally come, and soon
I hope when these hucksters who can annoy
Are replaced with music all can enjoy.