Best Photocopy Poems
I'm nursing a headache the size of Corfu
my stomach is tied up in knots,
it's the seventeenth time that I've been to the loo
feeling sick with a dose of the trots.
My memory's blank as to how I behaved
but from texts on my phone I can see
that Doreen who I met said 'yes' when I proposed
(she's retired now, and seventy three).
I lie on the bed still in suit and loud tie
no effort to climb in the bedding,
my backache tells me as the evening went by
I danced like Grandads at a wedding.
A bad move to mix all those drinks, that's for sure,
I think I may have crossed the line,
there's a photocopy on the floor by the door
and I'd swear that those buttocks are mine.
I have a small secret love in my life,
A marriage I love to do,
It’s when I use the stapler,
Making one grouped sheet from two.
The heavy duty mechanical,
The straight, to big, to small,
I love the crunch of bending steel,
The papered wedding, I love it all.
And at special times there’s 5 sheets or more,
A bunch to join as one.
Then, when the pile of paper’s so big,
I use the electric staple gun.
My small secret I keep so quiet,
I never want to create a scene.
I just quietly work my job, 9 to 5,
With the photocopy machine.
Written 15th March 2017 on a whim for John Lawless' contest
Tell them i was here
I carried them in my sack for nine months.
Tell them the ugly pains I encroached.
The fire that was in my chest.
The belly aches, the back pain, heartburn and headaches.
Tell them i endured the dull ending pain just for their seek.
The torture that clothed my pelvic and leaves me a sleepless night.
Tell them! the saliva that keep coming like Volta lake.
Tell them how my rest was robbed by pain,
With a mountain that scares my dream.
Tell them the enemy that possessed my mind with fear and anxiety about the life in the sack.
Tell them i was here.
When the sack blasted with the pool of water.
I saw them coming.
Tell them when they first arrived an Angel took away my pain.
My heart fled to awake my spirit in Jupiter.
My teethes came alive and hang open like London bridge.
I kept looking at them with wide eyes of an Engel.
I saw their eyes so bright like Sirius.
Their beauty is like mandarin fish in Taiwan.
Tell them i was here
I did not leave them an empty barrel.
Once i was beating by the snow.
Twice i was chased by lion.
My dresses always washed with sweat and my eyes were ceased not to close each day.
Tell them i did all these just to fill barrel with gold.
Tell them i was here.
Tell them about the terrible canker worm that separated me form them.
They took me to a strange land far form home.
And gave me a name called ghost.
Tell them i am the air they breath.
And carries my photocopy.
Tell them i was here.
LIFE STYLE
Don't lie
He who thinks to lie for honorary
Will only be honoured embarrassment
Says the truth
But he who eats "dodo" banana
Will cease to say the truth
Apply equality but
He who want to uphold equity
Must come with clean hands
Show justice but
He who want to formulate just
Must not be bias
Be a preacher but
He who want to preaches
Must cultivate the message
Be friendly but
He who want to be friendly
Must not be aggressive
Be clean and neat
He who want to that
Must purify his and intention
Be yourself he who want to be that
Must not photocopy because
He who photocopy has duplicate..
©®25/9/17. Abdul-Wakeel Abdur-Rasheed Junaid.
Fear not for i hold you in my heart
I was not bought but was made
In the perfection of the image of the maker
My heart smiles to you all for your good wishes
You sang melodiously to me in tribulation
To calm my dying soul which seek help.
I won't forget your kindness in the dark
But your warmth enduring smiles will last
Forever in my smiling heart of hope.
Tell Ugonma, i am doing good now
She is not a deceiver all i know
To Ugochinyere, for holding my pen
THose times i dosed off on the table in the night
Tell Nnamdi, i forget not his tales and poems
My ears are dying to listen again without pain
Mother was there when the dreams were slippery
Away but she made my heart smiled again
Thanks to the great beholders of pen
They inspired me dawn and dusk in their books
Acknowledgement so long i wrote in absence of gut
Inspire my orders in the dawn not revised motion
Skeletal wishes from the immovable heart of a queen
To Ranyinudo, for guiding my thoughts to book
I won't forget the whispering of that lonely queen
She sang to me and showed me what love means to her
To the people of Exra-ordinary- talents(POET) warm wishes
Embraces to Mccoy, who slept every day with the manuscript
Kisses have i sent to father for his moral support
My sister showed me what womanhood stood for, grace to her
My brother danced day and night to see me through
My heart smiles to you all for your kind gesture
Register your good deeds in your heart
some are registered in my palms for rewards
I wished for my wish to become a wish come true
So to increase your worth and value
Say me well to Nwayibe, i hold her
Tight in my heart but my erudite pen will fail me in honouring you here.
TO Ifeanyi, i love your courage
TO Mbanefu, i promise never disappointing
Disgrace not fear but handle him with care.
To chimaobim, I am becoming a great writer.
To Ifesinachi, thanks for teaching me how to hold pen
John chizoba vincent cares, i cares for you all
To ifedayo, i promise to beat the drum louder.
To my ancestral home, i will write about
You when the world recognizes my voice
To my humble friend, the pen, i hold you high above all
My image maker, God, i love you above all
My photocopy, mother, i missed your love
To my carbon copy, father i am doing just fine.
My humble heart smiles to you all.
©John chizoba Vincent
There is a reason for every word
She took my heart for herself
and hid it from the rest of the world
She has me to herself
"Love" seems to be the word
that has her thinking about me rather than herself
"Husband" is probably the word
that needs a wife, that's herself
There is no one like her in the world
Around me, she becomes herself
"Excited" is most likely not the word
that I should be using and she's aware herself
Photocopy my heart and hand it to the rest of the world
All you see before you, she did it herself
I will love her forever that's my word
Let the actions speak and you'll decide for yourself
"Blessing" is absolutely the word
God said it, yeah I remember, he said it himself
She said she's in love with me and that's her word
I believe her cause she said it herself
"Beautiful" is completely the word
that I should use to describe her inner self
There is no category for her beauty in the world
Gorgeously sexy, she knows that herself
You furiously took the title from women all over the world
and I want you explicitly to myself
"Intellectual", that is scientifically the word
to emphasise Doctor.......ohh I forgot she usually keeps that to herself
"Freak", Shhhhh that is secretly a word
that I rather don't elaborate on and keep it to myself
She makes me laugh just by using one word
Am I selfish for keeping her to myself?
Keep these words as one word
This bond is "Lifetime", that's what we say to ourselves
I am a husband to this woman, tell the world
and tell them nothing else, the rest I keep to myself
She is the word
and she probably wouldn't have thought that she is the reason herself
There is a reason for every word
Dressing without a book is nakedness
If so who is a Lecturer
A people cracker
A person who makes photocopy
Of other scholars work
One who eats and earn by
Academic deceit
A person who deprives
Smart pencils their grade
Who is a Lecturer
A ghost strike worker
With songs of incentives
He is blind to innovation
Maker of four years course
To eight years course
Because theirs is across
Border roofs
Who is a Lecturer
One who is thick and stick
To education like comb
On a woman's hair
One whom learners cherish
With honour
A crusader of merit
As an optimist
He is a scholar whose death
Brings national grieve but
With generational legacy
Amenica land of the brave land of the slave
Once proud once true
Amenica land of the sick land of large land of poison
Amenica beauty destroyed entombed with lies
Leading the sheep to slaughter
Amenica proud no more Hollywood in your head
Brain cells all dead eating yourself to extinction
AMENICA a photocopy of the capitalists disease big fat joke
A disgrace to the human race
I thought I would take a poke
And you can't make decent beer
BIDEN for president Amen.
Home:-
Home is a place where you can relax,
Print photocopy, and fax,
I love it because it is a place where you can be,
Staying up, not going to sleep, because, you had too much tea.
Sitting on the squishy sofa playing on the computer,
Placing yourself next to your brother, who is, a right tooter!
It is a place where you have breakfast, tea, and dinner,
But is also a place where you exercise ,and, get thinner.
Its rooms list full of living rooms, kitchens and studies,
Also a place where you bring your favourite buddies,
They come in all sizes big, or, very small,
Very short ,or sometimes, extremely tall.
It can range from small caravans to huge brick houses,
It may have a few pests such as a nasty rat, or, a few cheeky mouses,
Although it may be quite annoying and cramped ,
It is much better than last year when you camped,
Maybe not very much, but it is something,
It is home.
HOMOLOGOUS: MY FATHER'S BRAIN AND MOTHER'S HEART
Dad's extrovertism
lures my enthusiasm,
Mom's humanitarianism
and both of their dynamism
births my undying optimism.
A fruit certainly doesn't fall
too far from the tree at all.
I'm the true seed of my parents
and live in my & their bodies without rents.
Seizing a part from each is truth I can't hide:
Dad's intellect, mother's sharp mind.
In admiration, I look at them with pleasure –
gushing about them even in my composure.
I'm the photocopy of their marriage register,
they refused to give me a rival called sister.
Desires to own a part of you grow hard;
Ode to my commander, dear Dad;
I continue possessing your Einstein's brains,
keep custody of your flowing veins.
Dear Mom, I plucked your pure heart,
dripping with red passion, falling like darts,
I carry them both in my crawling cart.
My father's wisdom, and my mother's love,
these great gifts are more than enough.
No choice but to take up the skin’s demands,
mirroring you both in bodies and souls.
Have me the authorised rights to copyright
and model you, though I'm almost not wright,
I biologically earn an affinity cos sharin' is our rites.
The combination of my father's & mother's traits
makes me nearly complete 'cos it reminds me
that I'm a creation created to sail free.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 6th May 2023.
TENSED ACKNOWLEDGEMNT
To mother, my photocopy
To mother's love so high
To her undying feelings
My image maker in the eve of
My waxing re-refinement
Things will never be left unsaid
Words will never be left untouched
But reasons be kept in my mind to love
She bred me in mountain to redefine the
Image of my root
Hear me mother, i cometh forth
In me lies faith and drive so
Pure to redirect light to shine
Among those black hearts that lives down the valley .
To father's brave spirit that materialized my image
My carbon copy, my second god
The smiles of my soul in the new moon
My heart of thanks rest not until
Those tears will be shade in my present for joy
I have brought from abroad
Hear me daddy. i curse not the day you
Welcomed me to your wonderful home
Like a rose, i will spring forth, erect
smile to the beautiful moon, look at the
Sun in the face for not in me was fear made
Not in me was hatred bred.
I cometh forth to redeem and bring light.
To sister, the bravest of all
When the circumstances was tensed
You stood firmly behind me in unity against
All odds to see me through.
Those funny stupid move of searching for the
Faded identity of which i was made
You recreate my being and gave me reasons to break
Forth the stories of unattained dreams
showered me love in hatred
here i come in peace.
To brother, the handsome of all
To his most intelligent moves
Am almost there Ugomsinachi
I am becoming a great novelist and poet.
Words unsaid hurt a lot in heart
The sky knows my worth, the moon smiles to ease my pains
The air, sun and grasses are never asleep.
As i have thought in recent years
I will be coming home
Coming for my dream wife to reign.
Say me well for i write not for the craving night
To see the day in this world of agony
To Madam Moses, i love, she bred the Hero in me
To MRs Esther, i deserve, she kissed awAy my pains
To mr Uche, he made the light
I forget not the erudite viewers and writers
Who cheered me always at the contest
Never get tired, i am coming for the prize
is not all alone.
(c) JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT
If your life is a story what will be your titled page?
Will it be just a kindle format or a hardback
I wonder what the pages would spell like
May be of mystery, misery, love, hate, shelter or war
Will there be children crying on the front headlines;
Riots .Or will there be flowers planted on the front
pages to tell how beautiful your emotion is, may be
berries .will it be a blue berry or red berry .Or a rose
flower. Will the pages speak for themselves.
If your life was a book what will you name it?
Will it be a novel or a novela, a play or poem
An essay or a memoir written
Will it be in rhymes, a sonnet, an epic or just free verses
I wonder if it will be a photocopy of another man's pages
Will the chapters spell love or hatred , well spent or regret
Who will be in your acknowledgement?, and
dedicated to who?
Will you be the hero or villain, the Jack or Rose ,
the Romeo or Juliet
Achilles, Hector, Paris, or Helen of Troy
If your life was a book what will you name it
What would the world read of it?
Please Tell!!!
By Gideon Idudje
By Mark Miller © 12/09/2014
Divergent views across vile crest waves smile high the creeping crawl
Vacant recall behind will's fate corners awaits prodigy built city sprawls
Fearing furious memory's cradle under moons momentary falls
Departing sun drain dendrites dying beside pleasure land hotel
Pharmaceutical particles undermines wasted potential decay
Habitual filled dread remedy sealed bottle supply spent photocopy
Demented frozen posture detached paragons future parallax
Denatured entropy of unstable battlefront beacons fights happenstance
Enraged estrange movement frowns condition mingled disturbance,
Hassled hates impatient repression debased frames acquaintance-
Paranoia begins within kept crypt entombed from friends lovers bones
Supernatural surprise wakes the panic front tantrum born alone
Breaths cold howl vexed of thought behind fury times disorder
Subliminal sequence reveals foggy haze guilt by nights no quarter
Adorn the love less feeling conceals feeble rabble blood loss stealth
Movements uncertain impel stellar selves
IT HURTS AND HEALS
You can have eyes,
For love you'll always be blind,
There times you tried to scream ,
But no one could even hear your voice.
Don't force issues,
There's only one copy of you,
Never think of any photocopy,
So not everything is meant to handle,
It okay to release but don't be so fragile,
Not everyone is meant to settle,
Let everyone start a new chapter,
You just need to change the script.
Enough is enough,
I know you're tired of the same story,
You can't hold more dramas anymore,
Saying goodbye hurts and heals the soul.
By Vee Kessy
EVERYBODY SHOULD BE A LOVE POET
Yes! Everybody should be a love poet
Everybody should treat their pen like pet
And their jotters like bet9ja ticket
Everybody should write about her!
The damsel with no photocopy
The queen with no equal
The amazing personality that is rare to find
Yes! Everybody should be a love poet
And daily write about her beauty that needs no make up to be pretty
And of course about the fact that she is gloriously witty
Everyone should write about her portability
And the comfort that comes with her company
In short! Everybody should write about my Awéléwà Òrenté
That damsel is just the best
ABSOL