SAMIRA
Samira,
The beauty of 3 arts
General with elegance,
Enigma without resemblance
You should have called
Before you left this earth,
Cousin to Maryam, owner of
My heart.
Ha Samira believer of Mosha
I loved your dressings during
Socials,
I recollect the afternoon you
Said I should never be sober,
I wish I saw death hanging on
Your shoulders,
Tell me why tears shouldn't be
My roster?
Too early call, no reason to
Rejoice
I now fear this air
I don't know when she will stop
Been my friend,
Keep me among the dead
Everyone has a place of rest.
No ceremony for the dead.
Rest Samira Jibril.
habib akewusola
WORDS SO SWEET.
Cultivating from this tangerine
Tree
Liquid recipe, her content carry's
Pedigree,
Green shaped leaf is my identity.
What is time without the latitude
Of man's mind?
Am surprised, this ordinary ink
Begins to see things.
Follow me on this trace into
Unlimited might, lighting sign's
Apostles of translucent sight.
Today you read Words So Sweet,
As sentences duplicates into
Centuries
Not speaking of her voluminous
Territory
Basically her harvested energy
Equals particles of spiritual
Clergy.
You my darling so sweet,
I prostrate murmuring indefinite
Blessings,
Never have I pictured you in a
Coffin
Stand by me when am coughing
Become my hobby,
I hear your voice even when you
Say noting.
Accept this infant milk from
A mother to feed her pretty
Daughter at age two,
I mount my back for you
To scale through.
Let Wrinkles never beautify
Your face
Dark and fair will definitely
Read this page.
Poetry was created for you
Never to hate
WORDS SO SWEET is a stage,
To you who love's and see
To the growth of wisdom in
Every adorable medium,
Poetry is my name.
Habib Akewusola.
GHOST ON FACEBOOK.
Kindly search for Lady Angelica
Chase
You would fill this an element of
My craze
She messages me only on
Sundays,
As her profile picture still remains
Naked
Covered in black lace,
That my eyes continues to strain.
Every time I search for her updates
Imagine, the screen says,
No search found, is this the name
For a label or place.
My confusion has become elaborate
These page messages me only on
Sabbath days,
Suddenly she fades that none
Will ever trace.
Her friends list are only eight
Females,
Three's profile pictures are very faint
Her remaining's status is always the
Same,
“Darkness is my age
For my forgiveness is delivered
In pain”.
These five are all namesakes
Same age,
Different images but the same grade.
Your enjoyment is all I aim,
Sure you enjoyed this fiction of
A poets brain,
Words so sweet is my name,
Since poetry has been laid
None knows my duplicate.
Habib Akewusola.
I stroke her with the softest bow ,
Back and fourth just right,
So she can talk to me in tones,
That travel down her spine...
As notes of love run down her bridge,
From her G string to her A,
So finely tuned they fill the room,
Thru the F hole cut away...
And the chinrest on her lower boot,
Is where I gently place my chin,
By her tail piece where I finally tune,
The position she is in...
As I lay my fingers on her board,
So I can gently stroke her neck,
She willingly let's me explore,
Every note that makes me sweat...
And as the profile of her upper boot,
Shines the light into my eyes,
The part of me that stands salute,
Feels the beauty that's inside...
Terry
WWW.WhiteLionPoetry.com
Will you remember me
When my picture fades?
Will you remember me
when there is nothing left
to be said
and when my name
turns to ashes?
Will the world be as it was...
Just minus one?
your heart will still beat.
Your blood will still flow.
new images Will appear
like fresh footprints
in newly fallen snow.
you will not ache.
not for me.
the tears will dry
and your eyes will lie
upon someone new.
With arm's stretch out to
welcome autumn's allure,
and legs whirling on the
wheels of the icicle,
our bodies blend in bliss
with passions so pure;
our souls soar to the skies
as the spirit's songs sprinkle.
Under the moonlight's
glow our dance steps
sparkle,
I wiggled your waist as you
held me so tight,
you flicked fun at me as we
got a flushed flight.
Pants of pleasure got
loosed like fountain's flow,
and our bones bow to...
drumbeats in delight
as two sweethearts
snuggled, swirling in the
snow.
I am an average girl, average
height
My eyes are the color of dark
moss by a blue ocean
Forever changing flowers in the
sun
My vesture veils me as both a
ghost and a girl
A shadow, there but not, you
just think you see me
An apparition of an interesting,
gothic character
I favor poetry and putting my
own spin on words
Turn something bland into
something of beauty
Write it down and keep it
forever
Fantastical novels distract me
from a harsh reality
I escape to the inner parts of
my brain
But I can't stay for long, I feel
more than I think
So my heart keeps me truly
alive
I love without ceasing, and
cannot hate
The best part of my is my
heart, it's not much but so true
My dear friend and worst foe,
you follow me wherever I go,
towering above me sometimes,
falling behind at other times.
On sunny days, my braids I admired, for hours on end,
as you showed them swing, over the day growing longer.
On stormy nights, while we kids retired, our fingers did bend,
as the walls made eerie faces, our curiosity growing stronger.
To my eyes, your unrelenting adherence,
oft seems like a reverence,
although like an enemy,
you sometimes stalk and waylay me.
Yet, it’s on you I rely,
when luck fails to be my ally,
my guard down the lanes of treachery,
partaking my grief and misery.
Now my brush splurges in deep hue,
and kisses the canvas,
my dark shadow comes in view,
and makes me nervous.
I mix vigor and passion,
with sweeps of brilliant lines,
the picture tells my notion,
that good and bad intertwines.
BORROW MY FINGERS’ VOICE
. . . . .` ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ . . . . .
could you, Monet...borrow my fingers’ voice
as my desire runs through your pastel bones?
and in your artist’s blood i mix...by choice
the oiled smudge of me in these dusking tones
through joys and moans, is there time to rejoice,
to sketch love’s hand, though inks plummet as stones?
on canvas, a trace of me will remain
i am the sky, the elements, the crane
ottava rima
all rights reserved
©
--for Brian Strand’s Any 2,4,6 or 8line form—
-- by nette onclaud
*Music or Die*
I have greatest delight in music
It carries me, permits me to live
Bringin' memory of matter and spirit
Fascinating, beyond what is classic
Playing along, sitting, on the beach
Music clears emotion, it's dramatic
Changing a world, winning all idealists
Instrumentally, leavin' me, convicted
Simply a harmony, a dream unfinished
Music 's a world, or evermore splendid
Don't know what language, but what it did
To the noble, castoffs, sonatas, unique
Music makes me dance, longer than I wish
Imparts in wisdom and thought....now I live!
Busaba Patanawiroj
1.9.2010
you took my heart;
treated it so well;
from what i thought was the start;
i was so wrong you brought me down from heaven to hell;
you lied about me;
and proved me right;
and i had you figured out down to a tee;
i never wanted things to end in a fight;
why would you lie;
why not just tell the truth;
now things are going to end, you win, there is no tie;
there is nothing you can do to soothe my heart;
it is burning and nothing is left;
but the silly little ashes of memories that i thought we had;
just sift through the junk;
this is pretty sad;
that im in agonizing pain;
to the point where i wanna scream;
why am i in so much pain;
why did you do this, don't you think it was mean;
just leave me alone;
please let me live;
i just wanna breathe;
and stop all this pain.
I got a friend
His voice doesn’t travel by sound
Cuz he’s in my head
I got friend and he’s taught me:
I am alone against eternity
His words are abusive and he means everyone of them
He tells me im not healthy and smiles
Similes, grins and smiles,
I have a friend w/ a sense a humor
He “fixes” me so I can break again
I got a friend
He speaks when there’s a lull in the wind
He says he wants to rock me like a baby
I hear him when the noose swings empty
I got a friend
He’ll always be my friend
I stand here alone
Waiting for you to come to me
I try to go on like I never knew you
My world can’t go on without you
I pray for you to come back
My heart is shattered because of you
I’m worthless if you aren’t in my life
That’s what I’ve always said to myself
Its only lies to make me cope with losing you
I try to move on, but you’re stuck in my heart
It must be a sign of some sort, but who knows
I know that we made I big mistake
It is so hard to be apart from you
I need to see you
Hear you
Touch you
Is it just a dream or lust?
It feels so real, but at the same time I do wonder about my feelings
Can you hear me?
Speak to me and make it become real
Where am I going with this?
I’m asleep and can’t wake up from this dream
Voices tell me that I don’t need you
I disagree with them because they can’t feel what I feel
Love
True love for an individual that’s away from me
I can’t face life without you
I want to find you, but I’m too afraid to take that chance
Would you do the same for me?
That yellow moon haunts me again
and overleaps my sleep.
I do not dare to walk in the graves
of your eyes. The palace
has broken.
Mere suffering was not sufficient.
You have to wince with pain
for a crucified secret,
dying for a graced truth.
Snatch me a tear from
the blind eyes.My precious rags
will make a sacred thread to wrap
you on your arm.
The bruised innocence does not matter
now.You walk like a prince in every dark
page of history. Light follows the
sounds of body.
Satish Verma
I got a keyboard...
...I hope I try at this.....
....that I try and I don't stop trying....
cause that's what I do.... I sample...
...never eating more than a few bites and stopping after a good taste...
....but now Im starving... Im ready for a meal....
I am master of nothing... nothing...
I give up early because its no joy to suck at things...
...humble beginnings lead my ego to generate pain....
...pain that comes from not being better at learning...
....you know, Im much worse at learning than I used to be....
it has me feeling less than..... creating dislike....
....and the dislike of this process develops a heavy resistance...
....which overrides the gift of patience for growth because of its intensity...
....and the whole deal becomes unattractive...
....then this fresh baby passion dies under the rath of uncomfortable emotions...
....and I move on to the next trade....
...with hopes that maybe the next time that it'll be different...
...its always been this way...
...it leaves me longing...to never keep trying means to never have...
...and I haven't had.... I haven't had for a very long time...
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