Details |
Akinola Abitogun Poem
In silent descent, Yuki claims the air,
A fragile hymn no mortal hand can keep;
Each crystal breath, a prayer too pure to bear,
That falls like dreams the waking cannot reap.
The sky, in grief, lets go its hidden light,
And scatters truth in fragments cold and white;
Each flake, a whisper from forgotten years,
A trace of time dissolved in frozen tears.
What art is this that lives only to die?
A fleeting grace no warmth can reconcile;
It crowns the earth, yet fades without a cry,
Leaving no proof but memory’s soft exile.
So beauty blooms where loss and stillness meet,
And vanishes, yet leaves the soul complete.
Copyright © Akinola Abitogun | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Akinola Abitogun Poem
Brush moves through time,
Ink bleeds like ancient tides,
Breath held in lines,
Silk remembers,
Ancestors speak through each stroke,
The sea keeps their names.
Copyright © Akinola Abitogun | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Akinola Abitogun Poem
Flowing streams whisper low,
A lifeless flower, fading in thought.
Souls of blossoms quietly wait
For the warmth of the sun once sought.
A lone goose drifts along
The silent Fuji River’s embrace,
Carrying echoes of hope
Through time and empty space.
Copyright © Akinola Abitogun | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Akinola Abitogun Poem
Lady in white, lady in blue,
Lingering late by the ocean’s hue.
Fishes below like living stars,
Drifting softly in silver spars.
Sharks glide by, a silent tension,
A fleeting pulse, a darkened mention.
The sky leans close in mirrored view,
Reflected deep in the endless blue.
Copyright © Akinola Abitogun | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Akinola Abitogun Poem
The Pride of a Woman
The image of cruel could not conquer,
While an alienated air could not imitate,
Like the alpha filled with amber
Of the whispering of the wind,
We whose wealth we wish like worn wolf.
Hour? cruel and human heart is bitty-bitty,
The cruel stood forth hand in anger,
Like the white against blacks.
The pride of a woman,
Black women face agony of wrath
And especial agony of motherhood.
The pride of a woman,
African women face the race of rewarded.
Grace,
The tear of infertility behaved like sword
Of chanting trees.
The pride,
British women wandering for fame
Whose fame end up in flames of blame,
A regretting rain,
Like a winnable hour.
The pride of a woman,
Women of fate find face at the end of grace,
Even in the midst of beheaded sword.
The pride of a woman,
Like the [saw] island in the midst of [raced] river.
A tremor of war in cave,
And in thing which is no autism,
Tears.
The pride of a woman.
Copyright © Akinola Abitogun | Year Posted 2026
|