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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
Semblative a poet's wooer
A villain's swain
wot not?
The complex pox,a sickly
wine?
Whore,a huligan mazzle
sooner the old blue wanes
What remains?
Waggish frawn?
Sedative grief.
These trumpery looks of
stones,this vaward sob,
Prattle odds and old
slacks,quaffing soup;
how whimpish.
Seething lavander:
the vapour shroud song_
Crest twinkle like
fatties and momies_haist
Young poet.
Irish kinds
My simbling beauty.
The scented feet of
hers;Suwilangi,this line
These glamps inverted words.
humpy dot?
flamish eyes.
His slow paced emotions;
these_built on tempered motor
varlet swain
wot not?
The simple wax,no ill bed
drink.
My lady,maybe last;run now_
squeeze my breath_from my
hands take your heart.
Wisper slow
fade as smoke;his sight
these:elapsed.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
The breaking,
the shaking;apace
my king's fall is rise
my land is anon taken.
The antic,
the discholeric;as
albion her age;as
arras on her skin.
The abstract,
the seas;our compact
heartless disease;
let's decoct,
let's not calm
The beaver,
the savior's hand,
she will for aye crave
for her not a bedlam;
she is sane.
The cautel,
the hidden truth;
Cadent ties;fret
channels in her cheeks
frail less chuff.
The voidness,
the lifeless mess;cloy
there wines of death;
there ciphers;there empty,
shut their tomb.
The wall of wails;
the jews.
the rock that never fails
the doors.
The breaking
the making;apace
enough;her surfeit
her swain eternal
remnant of no transgress.
The maker,
her end;Yeshua,
truimph of her;
light in the cautel,
my messiah;so i break.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
These mouths of laugh
these traps of many
these winds as peas,
they grow;they are tall.
These fools to smiles
these miserable men of ham;
these slings of love
they fail;they are frail.
These fair feet;adorned
these skins of cherubs;rare
these sparks of peace,
they come;they go.
These rivers of soil
these soils of mud
these rocks are flakes
they sink not;they sail.
But yet even the emblem of love
becometh but fragile
even the light that was but:
dawns to darkness
so the joy is as a rock
In a sling it goes up hither;
but sooner falls.
These drains of sadness
these moments;but few
these peaks of joy
they;intense but brief.
These sobs of annoyance;
these moons at graves
these blues are silent,
they whisper;they are meek.
These lilies are not flowers
these twigs but roses
these;there fragrance
they enlighten;they are life.
These mountains of prophets
these seas of glass,
these heights of love,
they work no ill;they are joy.
These peaks of laugh
these deep winds,
these rare bushes of gloom,
they burn;it's passion.
-The end-
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
Old are they; those fables
Green they seemed so idle,
murrain of theirs still but
stand.
Odd how all of us prattle
Lads indeed we still are
longing hearty; throstles
songs sang_we all are.
Old; we wot these birds
their silent screams,
their feathers whim;
Nwunwani ya malena
oh swain to boyish manner.
Odd these tricks;futile
that laugh; humor felt
fainly graft; lusty marks
brat indistinct;two of these.
Old indeed friends many,
lunatics, lovers, poets;
to me:days where fine
the faces, the smiles;
the best_my closest: my mother.
Odd_history of man's fall
from glory; temporal but
lowly, to the swam of folks
indulged in folksy fables
and wind drought eagles.
Old the age of time,
if he were to count her down
feast_lamps shone_indwelling clans;
of rocks as bread and
lands as fields of gold.
Odd these slippers_my
lullaby, the gentle embrace
of firm support and fashionable
hey, hello; nice shoes,
intrigue in loops.
Old my looney_little mate
from lands only of myth,
imagined places: those
created films_my pixel pinky.
Odd my interest in single
females,of simple yarn and
lowly glory that's too fragile for;
lollipops_kisses and pecks like
v award winds.
Old these melodies of Bome_yes
bome; these loving tides of
beautiful countenance rose
as roses at noonday;as
waves at water pools.
Odd these Irish boys of Ireland_
Scottish accents in American films
faked acts of Hitler in short pants,
Black dark doves; the purity of beauty
Africa.
Old yes odd these remarkable words:
these watery lines_the days.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
Simple lilies brown beautiful roses
it is ointment to my feet: these mosses
Little ladies rare seen fell fossils
She is isle lament: pieces in the vile.
Zamiwe_as wind, the fruit first
the fall and clash.
These heroic lashes of man conquered poets,
slay of knights by eye: flicker light.
Rude beauty speechless waters: her tender leaves
olive purity in slander quotes: the clan of eve
Sonnet font unstressed, without rhythm
just roses: her breeze of dance.
Little lady her eyes but lies
Little rose, thus: beauty to my eyes.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
This plumly;yield of temperent night,sirs and ladies
Esoterick flooms,buded;tyrant pees_shy faces?
This plain;ungraph of seremic light,ties and lads
Egoscentric moons,burreld;silent tears_passionate likes?
Oh;
my,
candles
alight
All
my,
sandles
are light
These mailing men,obscure bloosom
blind date;dalnty da dady,mumzy laugh
The maiming todlers,abstract geese_goose
change of thought:My remnant sigh?
eye meets sight
eyes as they sigh
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
Look!joyful,fast,sharp,brainy
so young;so irate
dark,short,lean;fairly whim eyes.
mine,yours,his,ours;not cold
mild breeze;go to school
her voice was always fair:my mother
meek,soft,flow less.
I knew a girl,so fine
she a little taller;it did not matter
would pick her up from school;miss class
Muhau,all i recall,all i knew;pretty
her eyes shiny:silver in kinds
could see steam flashing
frail less.
A friend?oh,now a brother;beside me
as i write you
Oh:that boy_that boy i long to see.
-The end-
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
TWO COUNTS
Written by Wina Emmanuel Lavensin
Manson lavender and frail subtle talks; Opium days
Yes: odds of drowning birds and sea monsters.
These eloquent sighs of breathless mummies: mystical Egypt
Four counts of blank assertions: two seeds of mustard and seats of masters.
Plumage plain, moods ham, lambert veils
These nameless sirs of iron and water wet poetic hippies.
Yes: yet doubtful, quiet scents of florescent bulbs with dark light.
Four counts of White assertions: two seeds of bustard brats race less rats.
These are none to be classed as words: this, only a tie of glamor: blissful drama.
Though unrhymed they tent the cloth with meaning: they breathe, it is life.
Serve these ladies with metaphors of blessing: These lilies as pale blue slippers no sandals.
Four counts of Dread assertions: two mystics in red clocks; tickly rooms.
Bold Man asserts: These tests are empty sticks
This he states: These lads won’t stand these tricks.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
He says to her of his past;story told
at this_he holds her close in his arms,bold man
he sighs long
he peeks at her face
she smiles
she sighs back
At no time had he ever given thought:yet now,she seeks
his thoughts;
he sighs,i loved another;he whispers
consumed in her_bound i up
once my heart screamed loud
screamed till the breaking of my soul
till all life seized to exist
His sight failed;all became as dust
as dust walking fast
his:was with no remedy
no pain with only rain
She thought it:all was as vanity
drained
slayed by folly
childish manner.
Yet his was a tale told:his was a man in me
He Emmanuel_her Suwilanji
Theirs not a fable.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro Poem
Spheres of Grown Lad Dilemmas
Emmanuel Lavinsen Winaro.
The scope of limitless voyage
Drums of succubus groans
Morns of Alexandra dawns
Roans’ carcass_ dungeons full of mermaids
The whispers of neon as lamps
Blast castaways the sides’ mere bliss
Bloody dilemmas_illusion kisses
Ripe mangoes_potatoes and toys
The blur unclear line two meters syllable
Edible nines these signs_wasted eras
Twenty sixes dare maze_lost raccoon
Cancans’ whoredom lads grown
Flights twice_each glide metaphors
Little fix pieces myth dilemmas as spheres
-THE END-
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2014
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