|
7/19/2012 7:02:19 PM
|
|
Ğood to be on poetrysoup, every1 on here is supper
|
i feel so blessed, going through nemerous poems, and to be frank n truthful, none is less creative, almost the few i have gone through is supper hot and cool! pls! guys go through my own poems n pls make ur comments. thank you so so much!
*hugs* kingfemi
|
|
8/1/2012 5:25:43 PM
|
|
Resurrecting Poems from the Dead
|
This poem 'Resurrecting Poems from the Dead' is so dear to me, because, I have formed the habit of mistakenly deleting my poems, it's either my laptops crashes, or my jutting pad get stolen, or either, my hard-drive gets stepped on, and l loss close to 200 pages of poem with other articles. It not easy at all to start all over again! Because it take sleepless nights to achieve nice and great poems. That is why I had to write this poem. Its so sad and burning, but the aftermath joy is, it is safe in a better place,in 'the Heaven of the Brain', nothing can touch nor harm it, once it's been stored there.
Thanks to you all, for going through my poems. Can't express enough,how much I love you all.*hug n winks*
edited by king femi on 8/1/2012
edited by king femi on 8/1/2012
edited by king femi on 8/1/2012
|
|
8/1/2012 5:39:16 PM
|
|
Resurrecting Poems from the Dead
|
Every time and anytime,
i mistakenly delete or loss a poem
that i have sweated so hard to compose
i feel like,
i have lost a golden child,
but after couples of struggling to retrieve back the poem,
from the land of lost poets,
I normally eventually get it back,
this always happens formally abnormally,
that it keeps me wondering,
Why and how come?
And i notice that,
God always purposely makes me to loss or unintentionally delete my poem,
so that I could write it much better,
and it always gets way better.
But the first informal vanishing feelings,
is always so bashing and banishing,
that if one is not wise, pushing and strong,
that would led to the dearth of a new born poem.
Overtime,
I try to quench,
but I can't bench,
for the toughness of my poem,
never let me remain in softness
because it only deletes from the laptop, paper and surface,
But it never deduct nor abort from my brain
It dances continuously,
like rainstorm in my brain,
non-stop, till it is conceived again,
through ink, then it winks happily at me
This makes me feel like a poetic Hero,
who goes to battle with no sharp armoury,
but with a pen, paper and sharp memory,
and still wins the vigorous war,
which blocks the resurrection of his poem and the success of his sharp vision.
|
|
8/4/2012 12:40:24 AM
|
|
Not Fair
|
Nice and touching! I like, "your the ass,I can't shake" cool! Lol
Kingfemi.
|
|
8/4/2012 12:49:31 AM
|
|
Cannabis Song
|
Hahah! I'm high already, can it also heal HIV? Lol. I have a friend,he love's cannabis so much, that he named his first son, Cannabi Obi. Always, nice work!
Kingfemi.
|
|
8/4/2012 1:18:49 AM
|
|
Save Me Thanks for any critique you can offer
|
From my view, this poem is prefect with all views of clarity. No matter the population of critique's, it can never be better, because; it's already what it is,a wonder from God. This poem has just simply 'Saved Me'. I respect criticism, but come to think of it, from the lens of a critique, a poem is never finished, because; the always believe that a million poems can be made out of a single poem, that's where they come in. And they never come in, if the work is not attractive and well assembled. This show's that this poem, in one word, is 'Amazing'. well done Marilin.
Kingfemi.
|
|
8/4/2012 3:54:11 AM
|
|
MY FIRST LOVE, 1st prize award African lv 4 all
|
MY FIRST LOVE
1st prize award wining poem: African Love for all Awards
My first love
is a whore
but i want her back
because she always had my back
when everyone
threw me back, barked, nagged disappeared continuously on me
just because,
i try and cry to make them understand how i feel about them
My first love
is a whore
but i want her back
because the love apple, love bite, and her loving kindness,
makes me lovesick,
and unloved to other love birds, that promiscuously convey my way,
to convict my heart.
My first love
Is a whore
But I want her back
because she has not false me
but she has inherently taken me the way I am
So I am also readily convinced
to take her the way she is
into my love life
My first love
Is a whore
But I want her back
for I now known
that those whom I took as the goal keepers of my life 'my friends'
Imprisoned my affections for my first love,
overstretched my suspicion,
and tore my first love's glossy fondness, into unscrupulous odiousness
My first love
Is a whore
but I will become a fishmonger
Just to fishnet her back into my life,
because I truly want back my first love
even if she is going to come back without her love, but with her heart
that will serve
Just to see and be with her again
|
|
8/13/2012 8:49:59 AM
|
|
YES! THEY FROWN AND CLOWN
|
Yes!
they all frown and clown to know that
you are the crown that makes the gown of my happiness longer
this makes my soul itch in love,
when you are with me,
not with me,
and forever with me
Yes!
they all frown and clown to know that
you are the speedometer of my heart
and that you are always right in between the cabinet of my chest
Yes!
I am now crowned and gowned up,
to know that,
she simply makes my heart gracefully dance and glance happily at those who think that I am a fool in love
Yes!
Let them frown and clown on
with their thorny crowns of ignorance
For all I know and row in
is that she is my lord of admiration
and I love her supremely delicately
for she is always there for little me
So let them frown and clown on
edited by king femi on 8/13/2012
|
|
8/17/2012 10:53:34 AM
|
|
MY FIRST LOVE, 1st prize award African lv 4 all
|
thanks for your comment. made my day! *hugs n flowers*
kingfemi
|
|
8/19/2012 12:50:52 AM
|
|
pls,help,wonderful poets,I need ur comments tanks
|
Go through the capital letters, I used it to form the summary of this cute poem:
ROSE AROSE CLOSE and DOSSED off all my arrogant POESING problems, in WHOLES.
THE MEDICATED LOVE OF MY HEART
Her name is ROSE,
Her roles were;
to come and make up, take up and bake up all my sophisticate problems
She didn't come to break and rake my heart away
She AROSE to love and solve the swelling problems which dwells deep down in the belly holes of my heart
With CLOSE tears and fears,
she searched and reached deep down below the belly well of my heart
and boldly sank my problems, typically outside the belly well of my heart
This DOSSED off my arrogant problems,
and made it ignorantly powerless to touch its toes
In a POSEING mood,
I happily watch it sweat dramatically as it tries to touch its toes
I purely call it;
serving the medicated love of my heart
This has made the blank pages of my heart, filled with integrated brand new colourful laughter
which reveals the true colourful dose of what my heart is really made of
Which are NutriLove+VataLove
in WHOLES
This poem is dedicated to my lovely friend, LINDA the Poet ~Destroyer. Thanks for your admiration.
|
|
8/21/2012 10:33:07 AM
|
|
my first cannnabis poem, ever!!!pls veiw
|
CANNABIS PREACHER
There was a dreadlocks Jah man
called Dennis
He changed his name to Ratty
He never takes the same paths with cops, nor need their help,
because he knew how to plant and sell his weed crops successfully well
He hardly moved with his mates,
because he is always high in faith
He never liked having his bath,
because he hates feeling slippery like a sweating bat
He didn't know maths,
but he always sat and frat in his mat,
while he smoked down jumbo marijuana with his fat pocket friends
He didn't know how to play long tennis,
but he had a very long penis
And the Genesis of his love, started with a white girl,
called Jennis,
He admired her so dearly,
because of her skimpy outfit
and she also knew how to play long tennis sexy well
But she always ran far from him,
because she only knew how to play with short penis
and she is a semi-virgin,
who doesn't want a man with such long penis, which was almost the size of her long tennis bat,
to travel up north, through her virgin Atlantic private part
So she hid and ran continuously,
in order not to get ugly drilled by a long tennis bat
This is the story of Ratty, the cannabis preacher…
edited by king femi on 8/21/2012
edited by king femi on 8/21/2012
|
|
10/28/2012 2:54:04 AM
|
|
I wrote this for our beloved president Obama.
|
It a formulated thought of Martin Luther king. The poem shows how much King Luther is proud of America and Obama,for being the first faithful US black president.
Martin Luther, our Yellow Sun Obama:
'Martin’s thoughts'
From the genesis of Martin Luther’s life;
he has always generously laboured for the truth of freedom, and groomed the plant; that flourished the 'Obama-ness of togetherness'.
He never diverted form the glorious feelings of, 'we are one'.
Now he rests in the rim of his unfinished aims.
Withstanding, he still articulately calls out saying;
Where are you my people?
Undamaged in vision; he patiently waits on the shoulder of the mounting top,
still saying; in an incantation mood;
Where are you my people?
He has taken an oath; with God and sand, and also with social and unsocial wind.
And the promise stands to consume only his body, and let the soul of his struggle flee.
Because the soul of his struggle, has wrestled with colour and dust; and flatly conquered, just to get to the mountain top to clear the bushes, and build a mighty black and white golden castle, that will contain the redemption of hopes and fruitful salvation.
Now, he lays so gently alone; in the castle;
waiting for you all to come,
not for a holiday,
but for a long honeymoon of joy.
The sun rains on his thoughts,
and it heats it up so heavily,
because he is left lonely, and forced to be married; to the Florid of calmness.
But he still does not tremble or imitate fear,
for he strongly knows that his people are on their way; up to the mounting top.
Every morning, he peeps down through the window of his thoughts,
but he sees nothing, but giant dusts and dwarf clouds,
trying to aggressively claw down the faith of his thoughts.
This sometimes; makes him feel so aggrieved and wet in loneliness.
But, he still consoles himself,
for he knows that his people will never fail or betray his dreams.
This morning; 5th Nov 2008,
he decides not to peep and think too much.
Suddenly; he head a knock on his door,
and he thought that finally; the giant dusts and dwarf clouds; has caught up with him eventually, to raid his ghost away.
And he takes the door;
to his most colourful surprise,
all he sees; where black and white solders and Angels everywhere,
smiling and yenning so happily at him.
He stood still, like a blushing blocked fish,
with a wild silver smile; he smiled.
And in a city of tears of joy; he watched,
because his mouth, was so blocked to laugh and scream out loud, in an excessive excitement.
He held them all tightly, one after the other, like his warm blanket; with tears, still strolling down his handsome soul.
He Said boldly to them;
'I knew, my people will never leave me here, lonely and sold to the cold'.
Welcome my giants, you came well.
And he went further by saying;
now I can sleep with a smile on my face; for I, Martin Luther the King, is hugely fulfilled. Thank you Barrack, Obama, for you have solemnly lead the black and white marathon race; to see my wonderful black and white golden castle, and also; thank you my lovely people; for believing in; "Yes You Can".
_____________________________________________________________________
* A man with a golden heart is richer and wiser than a man who has a castle full of gold and ornamented treasures, “Martin Luther was a man; with a golden mind and mouth. His mind and speech, was simply his wings; which he used to fly into the peoples heart, mind and Barack Obama's vision. So believe me when I say this; the glorous positive spirit of Martin Luther, lives in Obama. This has made Obama; take America as his heaven of love, and he will never let it crash to ashes. Take a good look into Obama’s eyes, you’ll notice the way he looks into American's eyes, like it’s his new born baby. Let's give him another chance to rule, because America's remedy,remains in his vision. God bless America, God bless the world!
|
|
11/29/2012 11:52:08 PM
|
|
Breaking News:
|
The Federal Ministry of Poetry (FMP) has just exquisitely taken off into the moon; at approximately 10:001:AM, in search of diamond originality. The spacecraft is been Piloted by Mr. Style Boldness. And It is been made know to planet brain; that their rocket, has just detached it's first shell release, and Ambassador Knowledge and President Inspiration; are fully hoping for their safe landing on sky book. While the noble citizens waits poetfully for their safe arrival.
|
|
1
|