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Best Poems Written by Sunday Ameh

Below are the all-time best Sunday Ameh poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Concept

when you see a litlle boy 
drawing carts and painting pictures
 or a little sister weaving the hair of her teddy
bless them with the ink of their style.

When you see a son enquiring into his fathers death 
or a daughter smilling to motherhood,
show them the road to heaven, for it's more than reading the bible,
as hero's print can spell these clearly.

Am in a world 
where potency is planted in all seeds
but fear of dry season has cut down her shot.
and we cry of tomorrow when today is unused, 
speak of evil when our angels 're lay to rest

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Love Song

when i close my eyes so deep 
and my voice streches in acapella 
i could hear love song so quick 
reviving the deepest of soul like an orchestral.

Though i travel through the winds of deceit 
for the eyes seems blind to the heart
 but this song is like an instinct 
that blinds my certitude like that 

How could i dance to love
 when the deepest of my emotions 
is ringing in fear of odds,
yet my legs rushes to stage in passion.

How could i kiss with the fullness of joy
 the mouth that sings love song
so controvertial,but irresistable fallr
so blind but without reproachable sought.

These song 're songs of the sea 
defining nature in a plenitude of uncertainty 
though trickling the sweetestof breeze 
but the crest,trough,storms 're of certitude.

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The Psalmist Voice

Let the shepherd command
and her flock shall follow at once
for upon the voice of the teacher
shall our knowledge counts hither.

Let the master show us the field 
and her labourers shall gather in bliss 
for in thy orchard and vineyard 
shall we find treasure at hand.

Let the warrior blow her trumpet 
and we shall gather to celebrate like eaglets 
for thou hath rescue us from the allies of war 
and granted us our territory as lords.

Let the king calls her servants 
and we shall hasten our feet 
for thy kings palace has blessed our jaws and teeth 
and there our refuge restoreth.

O conqueror 
fierce and burning like the blacksmith sword.
let men who contend with thee 
fall before the battle ground in shame.

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State of Silence

when an ambitious hand 
and a rushing mouth 
cast a canopy of ramblings 
or utter distress 
and anxiety spoills the ground,
the state of silence
 from she we think is a fool
 is an answer to wisdom 
and a conquerer of might
for where does the slow movement of a cat leads the ratty rat?

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Music

when solitude is sought,
on a rthynmic angle,in low note,
resonance is caught,and inspiration is bundled.

When voices 're heard as acapella,
and the throat stretches like an orchestra,
behold,its love that pours and sprinkles
 what every youthful heart 'll rekindle.

And when wrinkled cheek 
smiles,bless God,claps and dance in seconds,
the joy of an elder is as high 
like the theme is heaven.

When celebration as laughter 
is cast on tough drums,piano and electric guiter 
and voices 're sparingly gushing out
the world seens to be a stage 
and fun is spread at age.

But behold,when the flute of a funeral is whistled 
and the choir sings on slacked hymn,
and the cheek 're rollin down tears,
the legs that dances only wrestles against impossibility for farewell is the theme.

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A Thing of Time and Patience

When the potter started to clay
out of wisdom,moulded in stages
 light,separating night from day
 and within time perfected all pages.

A thing of time and patience
 blesses the shoulders of the wise 
and the trueness of a firm conscience 
builds solidly joy in the eyes

for what patience can't do,
impatience does neither
though tomorrow seems odd 
 for the hangs that swim quicker.

But hear therefore the song of the shephered
 "in the watchful eyes of season the rain must clatter dusty grounds,and dusty 
ground  sprouts forages ,and forages bost the thigh of sheep "

so therefore guide your craving in the tickling of the clock,
and where delay seems as dailies or fog seems to cloud the sky 
sing the song of the shepherd.

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Peace

Let cringing tongue fall
 and rough elbow bend low
 and the heart that beats faster shall o
 forever beats peace to all.

let still water remain still
And he thats down fear no fall
Pride is good,fall it call
Seat never on the fence,peace it kills.

Else we fall victim of greed
Let there be peace in our conscious thought
And busy hands chase idle plots
Least pay ear to satan's heed.

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A History of Creation

if you call it a sin
 the youth 'll shout it's our time 
as experience shall count tomorrow.
if you call it a chemisrty,our fathers shall add it's our heritage,
for the blessings that surrouings the table
 comes from the seed moulded by the potter.

who 'll question divinity or nature
 though immorality spreads like breeze and infedelity speaks orders,
let him bless the hands of reproduction that brought an egg to a crawlin baby,
then to a craving youth sleeping in hope,
and a home of hope building realities.

if you talk of an old man 
who sleeps under the roof of memory 
waiting for the handsome hands of death,
bless him for tha passionate kiss that transpired when he wore canvass and 
neck lace,
expressing his strength under skirts.

This history of creation is more than heritage or addiction,
as gay without fear of misconduct
 abuses nature and drink from the hands of cruel civilization.

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Conqueror

Behold, man must offer
 the true taste of instinct
 and like craving conquerors
 unleash the bitter sword of her regime
 and in the tickling of the clock
she 'll embrace her  fortune
 knowing fully well the sweenest of honey is justified only when vinegar has been 
tasted.

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Conqueror

Behold man must offer the true taste of instinct 
and like craving conquerors unleash the bitter sword of her regime 
and in the tickling of the clock 
under a polished mindset 'll count her fortune 
knowing fully well
 that the sweetnest of honey is justified only when vinegar has been tasted.