Making Poetry Out of Anything
After I have continuously fed the moon with my
spoon of inspirational feelings
Soon I noticed; it never grew fat,
but stayed toon, like an animated raccoon
so I had to enhance the moon, to a glowing
moonlight, and adopt its moonlight,
into my pool of wholly gratification
My little backpack held a slim lunch of ideology, a
monochrome vision, colored inspiration, a digital
faith, ink book, jotting desire, cloudy hopes, and a
wholesome feel of willingness of everything I
needed for the day
Eagerly following the irresistible sea feels of Saint.
Writer the poet
I began,
trekking in hopes,
working in ropes,
and writing in copes,
along the sky-high trail of motivational spine of
fortunate path.
The tussle and bustle of my bushy and busy
unsuitable ideology, fell away,
and I felt a sliver solitude as the only person on
this long awaiting vision, winding around my
moonlight
All of a sudden,
my light and vision, reviles,
that in the mist of nothing, no air nor fairness,
wonderful poetry can still be made golden.
Copyright © Femi Joey Oloidi | Year Posted 2012
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