Vivid scrolls,
in tantalising yarns,
fantastic that reveal,
exotic envelopes of vista,
that have me transfixed,
and transported,
my brown hazel eyed,
gladsone gaze,
oe’r lush depiction,
bold brushstroke of,
myriad science fiction,
vibrant character snapshots,
that dispel monotony,
douse mundane patterns,
gap-filler of trite,
vacuous daily plod,
as I clasp otherworld,
enchantment in a dash,
novelists who exude,
endowed flourish with,
pockets of fly plots,
misleading labyrinth,
convoluted and intricate,
shady, cagy, fly-by-night,
side routes veering off,
adding riddles shadowy,
step by echoe’d step,
in hair-raising soundscape,
rushes of exhilaration,
stoke and fire,
iridescent wonderland,
escape into mythic mists,
entwined flames of romance,
laced with sumptuous,
dream moon flotillas,
a swooning heart march past,
yet I bystander engrossed,
by segue after segue.
I've had a phone on me since I was eight
It was my pacifier for with it I'd drift to sleep
Amidst the pain that I was in
Cause it helped escape my reality
I had a phone on me since I was eight
Cause mum couldn't always keep up with my energy
And because I moved alot, one hospital to another
Phone was the only thing contant other than pain
This made me stick to games and I got better at it
I liked the challenge it always brought to me
It was like despite the obstacle
I'd make my share of mistakes and find my way
It was my peace of mind away from sanity
Cause when you confined in four gloomy walls
Your thoughts tend to be caged
And the cagy feel makes you become wild
If I'd have gotten a community like this back then
Where I could channel my thoughts and frustrations
I'm sure by now I'd heal faster
Cause skin won't have grown over the fresh old wounds
Thats why I make the most of this platform
Knowing that maybe through my words
Someone can have hope that things can get better
Cause if I did, certainly you can too just look for the light within
The PO£T
I have a secret:
A very unbelievable one.
It is a world of beauty in discreet,
I do perceive is filled with fun.
Why do I fear getting old?
Whence Saturdays are always for youth.
Whose body won't take hold,
When flexing the best roads with Ruth.
What else could save enough smooches on my skin;
Which caress my hearts illness,
Where as, am free coz she isn't a kin.
What more to reference the would-be of future stillness!
When the memories of the youth blossoms at heart,
And the deeds an adoring art.
Life is unbelievable in its awesomeness,
You awe to the ought to be of its vividness.
Why can't I live like youth forever?
But everyone's wish is not that clever...
© 2020
® Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá
It is 1954, and the sun is shining brightly with feeling.
I am lying in my room, staring at the bland white ceiling.
Go out and do something! My mother urges me again.
There is nothing to do, without my friend, my twin.
A car comes screeching around the corner and Ms. Cat is here.
I run out there, as swiftly and happily as any being-chased deer.
She is the epitome of a good time, this hilarious feline pure.
She says “Hop in!” and I leap into her T-bird and yell “sure!”
When did you have it painted? I asked her. Yesterday it was red.
My daddy’s butlers turned it pink this morning, that cagy cat said.
She wanted it to match her scarf, and it was the perfect color pink.
The amount of money her daddy made the rest of us really think.
She let me drive her around, and I wore a smart black chauffer hat.
My friends laughed at this, but I did not care because of our great chat.
She told me how to make money, and I took her advice this day.
I now have two Thunderbirds, and others work while I play away
Careful when you read between the lines, unsaid
Conjecture often just assumed instead
An air of erudition and suspense
Unsure of inner meaning in this stance
For we write cautiously often indirect
Ashamed of honest error and neglect
So couch a message bearer can’t interpret
Duplicity and cagy words unfit
But if in truth we call a spade a spade
Tread on perception, honesty that may create much hate
Or jealousy or envy and revenge
And leave the truthful writer misery and stench
So some debate and study bible all their life
For meaning and interpretation strive
Or what did Shakespeare really mean?
The hidden in between perception curious and keen.
So next time when an email or letter sent
Do not leave innuendos, empty spaces cause they matter
Be careful for direct thought may provoke
And label you a callous most inconsiderate bloke.
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