Oldd the Days
Old are they; those fables
Green they seemed so idle,
murrain of theirs still but
stand.
Odd how all of us prattle
Lads indeed we still are
longing hearty; throstles
songs sang_we all are.
Old; we wot these birds
their silent screams,
their feathers whim;
Nwunwani ya malena
oh swain to boyish manner.
Odd these tricks;futile
that laugh; humor felt
fainly graft; lusty marks
brat indistinct;two of these.
Old indeed friends many,
lunatics, lovers, poets;
to me:days where fine
the faces, the smiles;
the best_my closest: my mother.
Odd_history of man's fall
from glory; temporal but
lowly, to the swam of folks
indulged in folksy fables
and wind drought eagles.
Old the age of time,
if he were to count her down
feast_lamps shone_indwelling clans;
of rocks as bread and
lands as fields of gold.
Odd these slippers_my
lullaby, the gentle embrace
of firm support and fashionable
hey, hello; nice shoes,
intrigue in loops.
Old my looney_little mate
from lands only of myth,
imagined places: those
created films_my pixel pinky.
Odd my interest in single
females,of simple yarn and
lowly glory that's too fragile for;
lollipops_kisses and pecks like
v award winds.
Old these melodies of Bome_yes
bome; these loving tides of
beautiful countenance rose
as roses at noonday;as
waves at water pools.
Odd these Irish boys of Ireland_
Scottish accents in American films
faked acts of Hitler in short pants,
Black dark doves; the purity of beauty
Africa.
Old yes odd these remarkable words:
these watery lines_the days.
Copyright © Emmanuell King Lubasi Wina | Year Posted 2013
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