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Latoya Reign Poem
Journey
By Ifunanya Anyene
Category B (14 yrs)
Grade 11
As a seedling I start,
Fresh and unharmed by the flaws of nature,
From the grounds I depart,
Top of the beauty chart
A whole new creature.
Now I bloom in the sunset
A queen in the wilderness
And they blow the trumpet
Unlike the sun I do not set
But moan with an unending benevolence.
Now I bear the seeds of tomorrow,
As I merge with my own kind,
Now free from the cells of sorrow,
Not long before my petals furrow,
And the weed of death bind.
And so I bear a curtain of hostility
As I weep against my fallen fortress,
And the moon illuminates my site of photosynthesis,
As thus I reach my final terminus,
As a seedling I came as a yield I digress.
Now comes the end of my prolonged journey,
As the weeds of ancient time overthrow me,
And I return to the ground nobly,
Be think oneself with this,
Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant.
Copyright © Latoya Reign | Year Posted 2016
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Latoya Reign Poem
Tuesday 17th 1998.
Escape…
I felt an atomic bomb erupt from within me, as I the being I am raged an unending battle against the person that is I. My internal thoughts betraying my external actions, I was left in a state of absolute irrepressible rage. I tumbled and tossed, tried heavily to regain control, but I had already been left one soul with no body.
A chilling silence flew through the air, living me numb as I accessed my present vicissitude. I had collapsed in myself living me as a dead but yet leaving being.
I heard voices talking to me, distant voices, and almost silent ones sending a trigger through my spinal cord.
I looked at my pale and blood-deprived self in the mirror… I saw the devil within me, struggling, yes! Struggling to gain control of the power station that is I. A quick hit by reality sent me into a shock-absorbed state of mind, I loved the fact that I hated the person I had become.
I, a mere shadow of what I used to be, sat floating away in the illusion I had created within me.
My thoughts melting in my actions, my behavioral qualities being lost in my emotional obscenities.
All I could feel was a schizophrenic voice that said, “escape”.
Copyright © Latoya Reign | Year Posted 2016
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Latoya Reign Poem
Slowly uttering out what I couldn’t…
Not too long ago, I was cursed with the inability to express my feelings, every time I felt either sad or angry, or even too happy, I convinced myself it was the hormones inside that were acting up, I had slowly began believing that I was possibly bipolar.
In fact what I am about to let loose out of my head now, I didn’t allow myself to even think about it, let alone talk about it, I wanted so bad to rid off all my emotions, I thought I needed to be an empty void. I was wrong.
Through life, I have experienced so much pain, I barely even noticed them. With every decision I made, to not cry, or to laugh of the pain, I was slowly being tortured inside. Growing up an only child you’ll think I had it easy, and maybe I did, to a certain extent that is. I have no regrets; I only have way too many dreams.
Have you ever thought to yourself, that probably those who are heartless now once cared too much? (Don’t try to answer it; it’s a rhetorical question.) I cried myself to sleep during my horrific years, and when I woke up in the morning I wore a fatal smile, and walked with my head high up, with no one knowing I played both sides of the chess game, I had slowly and unfortunately created a fantasy in everyone’s head of myself as a phantom of delight. My glory days now have fallen, and now I remain the widowed past aching for the solemn present.
Overtime change happens, I changed from the sunset to snow; beautiful but cold. Yes, we may live in worlds you’ll never see on screen, but at least these worlds exist, for some people have been cast into a spell of non-existence, and roam around- lost in a labyrinth of a world that doesn’t exist.
Copyright © Latoya Reign | Year Posted 2016
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Latoya Reign Poem
Emma.
I met this replica of snow white, a day after summer. Her skin was still tanned from the burning summer sun. Her eyes glowed with a hint of twinkle within it. When she smiled, she smiled with her eyes, her mouth, and her ears. Her smile was beautiful, and truly she was beautiful.
Many people said she was like the stars, beautiful but unreachable, they were right. She never let out enough emotion, to enable one classify her feelings, she was never inexplicably happy or terribly sad, she was just Emma, and that was good enough.
She was an extrovert, always seeking conversation, in paths that could not be treaded on. She wasn’t my elder, she was merely older, and that gave her even more glamour, than could be predicted for a single person.
She wore her hair down, elegantly but chic. She was our role model, she was our dream. We looked at her and saw nothing but beauty. But then she got wild, we tried to convince ourselves it was a phase, but at some point we grew to accept her for her.
When she spoke, she looked at you directly in the eye, some people feared her for that, some loved her for that, but I felt her for that. I would describe her as a delightful disaster, a term I rarely used to classify people.
We all thought that her beauty made up for her lack of brains, truth is that we were wrong; she was as smart as she was beautiful. She was the whole package. Our dilemma was her Hollywood ending.
You can say that we did revere a person, such as Emma. I never spoke to her; I idolized her as a goddess, there but not there. But all that glitters isn’t gold. As she grew older, she grew uglier. She wasn’t the fairest of them all anymore. Now she wasn’t just Emma, she was Emmanuella.
Some lost interest, some stared bewildered as how a queen had sold her crown for filth, but I, I still loved her, because now she wasn’t just beautiful, she was human.
She still smiled with her whole body, she still acted wild, she still stood out, the only thing that had changed was now she was just like us; imperfectly perfect.
Before she was Emma, now she is Emmanuella.
Soon she will be gone, and like time never return. We spent so long a time, convincing ourselves she will be here forever. Like a Nicolas Sparks movie, it was sad but we watched, as the lassie we loved had slowly been drifting apart from us.
Never shall a time like this come again, when we shall meet our very own angel.
To Emma.
Copyright © Latoya Reign | Year Posted 2016
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Latoya Reign Poem
Ne’er.
If we never met,
If I never saw you that sunny morning at the food mart,
Who would we have been?
If that day I had refused to buy some extra milk,
If I had possibly over slept,
We probably would never know,
Who we would have been.
Now what if that day I had woken up sick,
Fortunately I didn’t,
If I had decided to postpone, my trip to the food mart,
Would you have been there waiting for me the day after?
If we never met,
I would have married Michael.
Copyright © Latoya Reign | Year Posted 2016
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