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After the creation of things They where all created But in the world of imagination Many live as creators Existing in weird The created creator, The poet, I've never imagine As a child I've ever thought of treasure Never discover the new world The poetic world The world of the unknown The sacred world in the world Where truth dowelleth A large world of minority The poets are creators Though, they're created To inhabit the world of imagination Martyrs living with the unknown The dark world The poet sees the world Truth, happiness, love and sadness Living as neighbours He fights in time and tide Every man in his own roof Creating in his world The poetic world, The world of possibility. The world of silence The poet, I've never imagine as ordinary man He sees beyond the eyes Travelling in pen and pencil Far and near The poet, the errand boy Living under Mood To reap the harvest He drives on the heels of strangers As a created creator The poetic world, The next world to come The world of dreamers. It takes only the mind Via the hand The poet fight, Battle of the giants The battle of the wits Only the noble mind The poet, a freak of nature He owns everything But lacks as same Driving a hard bargain To beat a retreat, But ambitious. The poetic world, The thankless world The world of pleasure. The best of the world, In your pulpit have I been The poet, the maker of beauty The preacher of the world Trekking in the mind With bated breath to live. He calls, Upon the four corners of the earth. Sailing in the sea The poet, the ordinary man But in the corridor, he sits. And becomes a child. Like a chameleon he trades Where colour cannot rule He sits on the null and void Crying in words Oh! Happiness, Never leave me Not in the sea, in the fisheye The poet who shoudst bend over backward In black and white, He greets the neighbours Giving bitter sweet, Hopeless sensible, Visible darkness, As if it's not enough, Thy pen on the air spits at necessary evil Chanting below the belt. Painful laughter, Competing smile. Oh! The poet, Thou journey so far At the midst of hatred You found your Joy The sour taste of death, The bitter taste of anger Become thy favourite. When thou poureth The shrink-wrapped feelings on the wall. Oh! The poetic world, Thou shall be, Till tomorrow rises her morning to her evening. The earth will sleep before thy end. Even when the earth dies Thou shall hove upon the seas With thy errand boy When the birds shall fly so high in the sky The poetic world I built my home inhabiting with the mind The secret of making and my desire Attracting what I am than what I want Neither flood nor fire is in touch of you The Creator never imagine To end thy world, but to the world of thy creators In the poetic world I create my own universe as I journey alone Looking into the mirror images of life My thoughts, the architects of my destiny Never slur my back The poetic world The subconscious garden Once upon a time, In extinction of the mind The poet lives Making selection in her preachings As a child, The goodness was just like nursery rhymes In a poetry lines Digesting with beautiful melodies In alternate Rhythms The poetic world, Your memories in our yesterday cannot die They are the antecedents of today The fertilizer of tomorrow, Yet to be harvested The poets The lyricists The rhapsodists The prosaists Thy pen shall conquer the world When the green crops of today Shall sow their seeds In the evening of the night The poet I will ever be (By Opurum Precious Nigeria) Copyright © odiboyp 26/07/2016
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