The Poetic World
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
Copyright © Precious Opurum | Year Posted 2016
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