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Best Poems Written by Bello Zakariyau

Below are the all-time best Bello Zakariyau poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

Where It All Began

From the cookies that sweetened the truth,
The green grass fields upon which the gander faded into goose,
The harmless swings that made it smooth,
To all the silver coconut trees that bought candy-truce.
If you ever doubted where it all began,
It was back in the trunk of the parents' Sedan.

God forbid I refer to this a blame!
On the forehead is a wild button only they could tame
Knock knock! "who's there?"... "just who lost a brain."
If you ever wondered where it all began,
Take the blue sedan down memory lane.

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

Grim Reaper

Death, I have experienced not.
But of it I have stolen, a clear glimpse
As it whisked passed me
So plain 
In grim faces with 
eyes deeply stained
Evident through streams
Flowing, by the nose, separated.

Ooh! I recognise death:
Dried tongue with bittersweet taste,
Deep into the night, the day, awoken
Taker of all, leaver of none,
I realise who death is,
A promise of roses in the middle of the desert,
A defiant character.

A timely guest
Dogged, deviant and
Sadistic.
leaves at the service of a peculiar excitement
I am it's host, expectant,
But it has, in oft, teased.
I have shared space with death,
A mindful personality.

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

Life's Henchman

Through the magnifying lips,
About all, even if illusions,
"I have had a few than what is due for dreams,
And lived most of them true..." 
"I have had my fair share of nightmares,
all which unscathed, I stumped through..."
All mere hallucinations.
"...I have slept through insomnia
And walked all day in coma,"
Figments of a drunken mind
Driven by a cluster of self-serving emotions.
Filled with only wishes of dying once in a life time;
Everyone knows the angel of death is a fair man!
Except from the brown tale by life's henchman
About how it has nary complexion,
and nay it is human.

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

The Forest I Live In

You see, this forest I live in,
I'm surrounded
by flowers but not green;
by water,  off spring
from vows exchanged with Time,
yet I'm lured to adultery with a shilling.
But hey!
Heaven is to the highest bidder
and time isn't faithful either.

In this forest I dwell in,
the angels appear to be on break,
the devils rob sins for daily breads
so their victims become saints
much to the believer's envy
but God does not forsake. 

This  forest I live in
Has plenty to be portrayed
but not all can be said.

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

Ss Single and Searching

Deep into the sunflower,
Shirking away in facade.
Alas!
The It in the search for it,
But the constellations know better.
Soon draws in the daily winter;
When the flowers wilt and fall;
As it shivers off the travesties,
To settle up in serene,
Adorning its grey regalia,
Giving It the fickle find.
The moon plays hide and seek,
And the night is It.

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The Disturbed

I want to spread the message of peace, true peace. But that which lies under my breast  is easily  covered with the hues of that which the sunken balls see;

I want to ride on the backs of unbroken horses without having to make  any wishes, shoot arrows,  and learn good swordsmanship. Have the clouds housing my thoughts nourished this body just in vain?

Do you not also wish to sing His praises and dwell on in His remembrance? But for the fickleness of the souls, forgetfulness lives in time;

When the heart takes to His remembrance, it becomes one in peace, fountains flow from the sockets, the body submits in humility to the reins of its grateful mind, and the soul gains strength from its faithful tongue. Thus, the true remedy for the disturbed;

Come let's spread peace, that our hearts may find even more.

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

The Sun Drapes the Earth

The rays leave stars in my sight.
I had slept with the moon
What took in was the night 
6 and a quarter miles away from the noon
It gave birth to light
In its embracing rays
The sun drapes the earth
Oh! The romance ended too soon
As I wake up in despair
Of my illicit affairs
The rooster had laid bare the fruits
To the eagerly prude eyes.

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Crisis

Few odd kilometers now
In this short walk.
The feet all sore
And the mind, sulk.
"Who knows where the park is
Or when the time to bed is?"

The brain is full of shade.
The head needs its shrewd.
If the mouth won't say,
The body would.
"Is it permissible to be in the restroom?
One needs to be at ease, soon."

Thinking, "out of ten, I'm nine!"
In truth, he's genesis in time.
Conflicted youth in his prime.
Tired!
Feeling, "I need a peaceful rest.
Hands folded, placed in chest!"

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

Not For You

If I don't call anymore,
My texts lack the proper sough,
Perhaps with you I'm a bore.
The hand writing on the wall;
I'm tired of feeling sore.

If I'm dwindling in call,
My texts are not inspired by a fall,
Perhaps the mountain is becoming tall.
The hand writing on the wall;
The first verse of this poem grows sure.

But hey you
Appreciating this piece as art,
The handwriting here hold no heart
And this poem isn't for you.

Details | Bello Zakariyau Poem

Dear Qeemti

You need a dark sky
to gather your constellation 
and I can see
every twinkle of it 
in your eyes when 
the crescent moon 
takes shape in your face. 
Yet I feel your hesitation;
Unsure about whether or not I'm
Just an inimical cloud
that pours ache to your heart.