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Best Poems Written by Regina Oladipo

Below are the all-time best Regina Oladipo poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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12
Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

False Accusation

False accusation,
Temporarily scars my reputation,
A rash, affecting my complexion,
I question why the truth has led to persecution.

I try to scratch off the lies that are said against me,
I try to dodge all the darts that you’re throwing at me,
Just wait for some time, the truth will surely come to light,
You soon will surely find, that the whole time I was right.

Don’t even try to spite me,
‘Cause you don’t like me,
What goes around,
Comes around,
And you will find me innocent,
Omniscient,
Is our God, who sees everything,
And I know, 
He will show you who is lying.

I don’t want to call you a Pharisee,
But it’s sad to see, 
How you’re accusing me,
Remember the times that you needed me,
I never charged a fee,
‘Cause you were close to me,
I see how you have made me your “enemy”,
Through your lies and the way you are treating me.

False accusation,
Temporarily scars my reputation,
A rash, affecting my complexion,
I question why the truth has led to persecution.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013



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Salvation For a Stranger

The streets are busy with silence,
And Sammy is in his own little world,
Focused on his own private route.
His own secret place,
Private, it’s a funny word,
A funny word just like, secret,
Sometimes we fail to realize how we carelessly carry our secrets on our sleeve.
Sammy wants his feelings, emotions, his life to be hidden away,
Still, in the silence of the streets, 
I see the sadness and stress all over his stance.

The shops are packed with stillness,
And Sammy is doing his job, keeping stands tidy, 
Keeping customers happy,
Making his manager proud,
Happy, it’s a strange word,
A strange word just like proud,
Feelings for ourselves that we sacrifice for the satisfaction of strangers.
Sammy thrives on the temporary moods of others to determine his contentment,
Yet, in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets, 
I see the sadness and the stress all over his stance, 
In each fragment of his face.

Between the shops and the streets, 
Sammy finds a place that he can refer to as home,
But in the silence and the stillness of his slow beating heart,
He understands that something greater than his being is missing.
And Sammy needs a friend, a friend to show him the truth.
A friend to show him that in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets, 
He carries sadness and stress all over his stance, 
In each fragment of his face, and in each shy shift of each shoulder,
For one reason, and one reason alone. 
He’s missing one more word oozing sibilance, 
The one word that completes, this poem and will fulfill his life.

Salvation.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

Fantine's Fallacy

Life killed the dream that she dared to dream.
Life gave her change,
And Change killed our poor Fantine.

Dark days,
Long nights,
Cold sweat,
Firm hands,
Callous Cackles,
Tooth ache,
Swollen Sores,
Heartbreak.

Between Life and Death was the only choice,
She prayed that death would strike her by surprise.
If not for her prize,
The fruit of her womb.

Whilst working till she gasped her last breath,
It seemed she lamented her life away.
What had she left after such mistreatment?
Destroyed pride,
And if trust were left in the farthest corner of her soul,
It was to be in man?
Man who drove her to insanity.
Or A Man, a Man with enough pity? 

If not for mistakes, we could live our dreams,
Watch them morph into realities,
And into little perfect stories, 
With flowers, sunshine and happy endings…

But in the midst of wars,
Spiritually, emotionally and amongst humanity,
The brothers are weak,
Whilst the enemy gains strength…
Hope appears to be dead?

The truth is, 
What kept my Lady,
Kept her going for as long as she did,
Was the strength from one greater,
The One that knew her hearts desires,
The One who heard her deepest fears, 
The One who daily dried her tears,
The One who took her home to rest.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

The Market Girl's Smile

She bowed her head to the ground,
Focused on the grains of dust,
Her skin glistened in the morning sun,
Sparkling like the rarest opal to be found.

Whenever she rarely raised her crown,
I would look straight into the portholes to her soul,
And see a princess who had been locked away,
My gaze confused her, she returned to looking down.

As she carried her load, she would not move slow,
The way a snail does when he carries his home,
In the small busy alleys, she transported like a squirrel,
She seemed rather troubled, I just wanted her face to show.

When she finally stopped I gave her a smile.
A smile to let her know that this time is only for a season,
A smile to let her know that this struggle is for a reason,
A smile to remind her that there is One guiding her every step,
                                                                            Cradling her heart,
                                                                            Calming all her fears.

I hugged her as we parted ways,
And as I broke away,
I experienced raw beauty,
Beauty in its original form, its original state
What you would understand to be a gracious smile,
I saw as her soul beaming out through her facial features,
She had been ignited like a mountain cave torch.

It was amazing to see her whole aura reset.
The market girl’s smile, I will never forget.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

Volcano

I stand alone at the peak of a forest.
Birds sour, winds blow, beasts pass, but no one bothers me.
As you see me now, 
I am no threat, dorment, you say I am.
I watch you all, day and night, I see you.
I see you, see me, 
I am only an arid mountain, you say I am.

Alas, one day an explorer comes,
Instead of him to search for the last Ornithopod, 
Or to sit and listen for the rare leaf warblers,
He will come and badger me with jabber while he works his way to my crater, 
I see you, see me,
As you see me now,
I am no threat, dorment, you say I am.

Did you not see me alone and happy?
I warn you to retreat and leave me be,
Still, you hasten as you ignore my earnest plea.
I send rocks, I send dust, to divert your path,
Yet, my action interests you, you’re approaching fast,
You intend to enter, and I disapprove of your motives,
Explorer retreat! I am not what you say I am!

I am a conical being, introverted,
Each step you take towards the top,
The closer the kettle simmers to boiling point,
I warned you to stay back, now watch me erupt,
Your bones mould into rock fragments, 
Whilst the last of your cries are absorbed in my lava,
The ash of your flesh, fused with my laughter.

Then I’ll return to my former stance,
As you see me now,
I am no threat, “dorment”, you say I am.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013



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Hacked

Your body is being hacked,
He’s tapping into you and that’s a fact,
Build up your safety wall or he’ll get through,
You need to keep your shield up to protect you,
He wants you to feel fear,
So you shed a tear,
He wants to see you cry,
When you hear his lies, 
He’s attacking your files,
And is about to shoot,
You need to charge up so you can reboot.

Your mind’s being tampered with,
He’s looking for the key, that where he wants to live.
He’s using your technology to trap you,
So be aware of what you watch and listen to,
He wants you all confused,
So its his way you choose,
He wants you to feel stressed,
So your life’s a mess, he’s travelling fast spreading the virus,
You need to change your password on your wireless.

A dark spirit’s out to get out youth,
We must equip them so they all know the truth,
My generation, lives in the dark,
We need to pray together, so God can make his mark,
So watch what pollutes my mind, you never know, the devil might behind, you,
Need to be alert so you’re not re-hacked, 
The devil will be back, back to attack,
But Gods got my back and that’s a fact.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

Spare Button

You pierced my heart a fraction, 
But I didn’t bleed,
Blood is thicker than water, yet my pillow’s soaked,
Tattoed tears, Future fears, I see your cloak,
The hidden cloak, I couldn’t see, I was deceived.
You saw warnings, forecasting the future, still you wouldn’t leave,
Did you, did you really feel the need,
To keep me as the spare button on your sleeve.

You pierced my heart a fraction, 
But I didn’t bruise,
Scars are there for a lifetime, yet you left no mark,
Twisted lies and faint cries, shared with the dark,
The dark my friend, and your ally, I lay confused,
Betrayed by love, but now redeemed by His blood,
What a waste of time, a waste of need,
For I’ll never be the spare button on your sleeve.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

Memoirs of the Damaged

Imagine a small frail girl,
Sitting in the darkest corner of a poorly lit room, 
Only lit by the cautious sunlight that rebelliously shines through the crack in the curtain – if she dares
And thank God for that brave beam of light,
That ray of hope that reminds her,
That though the sorrow may last for the night, the Lord’s joy comes in the morning – for He cares

But please remember this little girl,
Before she discovered the very existence of hopefuless, faith and grace,
She had marks all over her body, memories, each one with a story, begging to be shared– if she dared

In the sinfulness of the night menfolk would come and entice her mother,
Tempt her mother into practicing the secrets of the night,
Time and time again she would watch as mummy would repeatedly, 
Repeatedly give herself to such ungently men, who lustfully enjoyed her company.

Our little girl always hid when these hankering knights of the night came to,
‘play and pay’,
she just wanted to stay hidden away, 
until one day
when the hem of her nightgown,
was visible beside the chair, her cover was blown.
She would never forget the words he uttered, “how much for her?”

She still cries nocturnally,
Remembering his perspiration and dampness all over her tiny frame,
With every roll and satisfied movement,
she felt her soul crush gradually into powder, 
only to be bullied and chased away by the wind.

And the next morning,
After being left like an abused and neglected puppy,
She would wake up with the bruises round her waist and between her thighs,
She would have the sour taste of his manly solutions, 
that had been drowned and gargled down her pint-sized throat,
And she would cry, as she saw her mother counting the money, 
The money her little girl had made,
And that damaged petite mademoiselle,
Would return to her corner, she’d sit and tremble,
Knowing there was going to be another visitor that night, and the night after and the night after that,
For God knows how long

At a young age I learnt the power that a man takes from a woman,
I saw my mum morph into a slave for those sinful sons,
I saw how she gave of herself, dusk to dusk 
and let them take any bit of sanity she had left within her
this insane mindset that she remains in her till today as I write, 
has been the root cause of my scars,
but has always fuelled my motivation, to one day reach the stars.
Men took a woman and brought back a monster,
Men took a woman and somehow transformed her,
From a trouble soul to a ruthless imposter,
This is the end of part one,
I was that little girl,
I’m the narrator.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

Memoirs of the Damaged-Part Two

I just want to take you back to that small frail girl,
The girl who sat in the shadows, in the corner of her room,
The girl who’d,
Never dare to cry,
Always wondered why,
Often wished to die.
The girl who encountered the unpleasant but turned her mess into a message 
To enable you to have a clue, 
That it is possible for God to breakthrough, 
Any trial that comes to you.

Part two, for me, is the segment of clarity,
I now understand what God has in store for me.
He has brought me through the hard times so I can stand strong,
Led me through the wilderness, and calmed the autocratic storm,
And now I have a clear mind and clear vision, clear focus, 
my success is sure to come.

Through my new mindset, 
I feel like a butterfly that was once a caterpillar,
A new creature, I’ve change and morphed in to someone better,
I once travelled slow, only wished to fly,
And now I flutter high in the breeze 
drawing closer and closer to where I pray to be

This is a memoir of the damaged but also an account of an overcomer.
I proclaimed my freedom from the distant memories of my past, 
on a revelationary journey to a rural town in Polska.
As I took the same steps as our Yiddish friends did several years ago,
I learnt to understand that whilst facing the threat of death daily, 
They appreciated the gift of life.
The gift, of life.

Human beings, we are designed for a purpose
                                            Live for a purpose
Are instructed to accomplish that purpose,
                                            Our eternal destination is dependant on its completion.
But whether we actually ever fulfill that purpose, we will still all live, then die.

The grounds of the death camps and the ambiance I experienced, 
provided me with the eloquence, that after death there is life.
Over 1 million souls died in those grounds decades ago,
But after death, there is life
But still, I heard singing birds and saw growing trees, peaceful in the breeze.
After death, there is life.
Eternal life,
But where we dwell is determined by our obedience to the Most High.

I’m not asking you to believe what I believe,
And I’m not asking you to think the way I think,
But I am asking you to ask yourself,
Ask within, deep in your soul,
Why are you hear,
Why do you experience the things that you do,
Why do have the desires that you do,
And whether there is One Greater watching you.

This is the end of part two,
I was that little girl,
And I’m the narrator
Now, look at me, I’m a new creature.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Oladipo Poem

Riot In the City

There’s a riot in the city,
And the spirit in control shout that “greed is good”.
So is this imposter telling me that innocent people stood,
Outside of their burning homes for the “good” of society?
The instigator of “reckless rioting”,
The dark midst over communities,
Is sowing the seed, 
That its “good” to steal and want more than you need.

There’s a riot in the city,
And the mindless criminals are say the reason is “cause we can”,
Giving ludicrous excuses like they’re “taking a stand
For what is right”,
But answer me, how is it right to riot and set a row of cars alight?
The “good minded” youth of tomorrow on positive paths,
Are now associated with you cowards with scarfs,
Who will show no remorse when you wake up the next day to the aftermath.

There’s a riot in the city,
And everyone’s playing the “blame game”, saying, “It’s your fault”,
The nation blame the government and the government blame the police, 
                                                  Who in turn blame the courts,
For not giving sentences that will make thieves quiver,
And yes, David Cameron is the Don of this “political mafia”,
But people, we must remember that he is human too,
And try to imagine what you would do,
If you were in his shoes.
The police have their hands tied,
Because every move they make is criticized nationwide.

And in all this mayhem,
I call out to God in Heaven,
Because, He’s the Only ne that can make this nation better,
And, He’s the Only One that can give us a great future,
I don’t think I can bear to see another home on fire,
I don’t think I can bear to see another family suffer,
I don’t think I can bear to hear, there’s been another murder,
We need to call on God and bring Him back into the picture.

Copyright © Regina Oladipo | Year Posted 2013

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Book: Shattered Sighs