Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
I killed my friend,
I never wanted,
Do not see me cruel,
I did it for love.
We both ran naked
Under this influential shower.
No one uncoupled his lips
Against this faint madness,
We were indebted,
Either had to earn the prize.
It was shiny,
Elegant!
Burnt cold,
Polished gold.
Oh no!
I couldn't bear it,
Bear to see his vein
Uncuff so much blood,
Was I so cruel,
I slashed him!
Right beneath the ear,
The chin suffered the lot.
He said it to my face:
Once we scoured the Queen's land,
Together;
Sang in praises of Great Britain,
Merriy!
As the innocent horses start;
Tugging behind them
Our chariot.
But now the horses are dead,
The chariot is birthed against us,
We are dead to brotherhood!
The volcano erupted,
In me, I felt it fuelling out.
I was feeting off,
When he dogged from behind,
With sombre intents.
I couldn't!
But I left my gruesome dagger,
Screening through his burdened life-bag.
Yes I did it!
He lay still before me,
In silence.
I wept over my destiny uncharted;
I could only bare
To see twilight willow
But onto my grave,
With epitaphs
Written in Mephistopheles's tongue.
I did, when I had to,
What a shame!
Fled my own land! ! !
A constipated crib conceived in my cranial court,
Was I rather too young,
So that I became a nomad soon.
I rode in grievous company of the sun,
I voyaged in the nailing complement of the storm-I
think we must have prickled its patience,
Its revenge was full of life,
We were dealt by our own destinies.
Death ravished!
The carrion-eating bird approved.
This unfaithful revenge
Did but fed my mindset a tongue of advise:
Do not err the storm! ! !
I was conceived on the river-bank,
'Grace' became a refrain in my head,
I felt it was more to be cherished;
Not even my enchanting physiognomy altered.
What could this be called
If not a reborn
Into a soil of freedom and cruelty?
Orphaned by twigs and branches,
Bats and skylarks.
Was it not a diet balanced enough
To sow a seed of ambivalence
In my nomadic thoughts! ?
Did I ever tell of the obnoxity
Of these creatures particularly?
They move their fingers like I do,
Stride like I do,
Chest broad,
Posture leveled to the horizone,
Skin worn black;
And they chant in languages I never understood.
I watched them discharge another's blood,
In brutality of what seems their tradition.
I think this island it was
Death feasted all day.
Should it be said that it was pre-destined?
I got hypnotized by a friendly one
Of a different tribe,
I presume.
Skin black?
Yes!
But he was lonely,
I proposed to know more of his poor fate.
He even calls me Master,
He seemed anonymous -
I think they were never christianed,
I named him 'Friday'.
Friday was a walking dead;
Dead to his own people,
Died the day doom cast a spell on him.
Death could have had its sediments in his life-
Friday never sieved to the crust
His last lee of ecstasy.
A fearless ant
Hoping to withstand the elephant's stampede.
Tell me; desert of years ago,
That blacks could make one's lifetime
A dream on water beds,
And I would sing to my love;
Let her womb cough out on black ink.
And who fall prey to ignorance,
That my friends were born
To feed our fire, woods,
Destined to be tugged in chains,
Like the survivor dog?
He journeyed to the river-bank too,
From a path unread to me,
He was a dog afterall.
My pains were read to his poor understanding,
Before came Friday.
Oh how I survived on that unlawful island!
I once aimed at those innocent birds
With my old-time riffle,
Friday amused my gaze;
My grave-night experience scored it,
That the fully-winged bird descended
At the furious hit of a dead stick
Thrown by my friend.
Tell me!
Is he not worth soldiers praised in the British
military?
Then why leave them in chains and cages! ?
All ended!
All burden seized,
When we both seek chairs from the frogs,
We nursed into the cage of dogs not bone-fed.
All ended!
When for the homeless sake of freedom,
Friday had to unchain my soul
From these hopeless wander,
Or I honour his.
But why is such ugly fate stringed to my journey
Through this turmoil?
No way could I once more vaporize my friend
For any prize,
Not even for a freedom worthless!
I begged him take the prize,
But time rode my own countrymen-waist armed
With improved guns,
Faster than Friday could have lived.
Today,
I owe my gratitude
To that very man
Who killed my friend-Friday!
The End.
Note:
This poem is based on the legend;
'Life And Adventures Of Robinson Crusoe'.
Penned by
Daniel Defoe.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
Written by Adebayo Olamide(Aesthete),Prince Joe and Ajibade Abdullah(Pen Talk).
..................................................................
9th Of January,2017.
................................................................
.
Who would hold my heart,
Now it's reeling off, almost?
Adufe!
My praise queen,
Only in your palms,when drop,
Will it survive the fall.
.
You praise the queen bee,
Her elegance,a perfect beauty,
But wherever you stream,Adufe,
The crown pelts to its hive.
.
Let us place our hands on a romantic roam,
As we flake through historical attention,
The popular Idi-Arere,as one to mention,
My smile is yours,on a cosmic glow.
.
Please my heart,Adufe,
Grease my heart,
Let pleasure find itself a home,
But through your palms,
Goddess of beauty that fisures,
Such that men hold,then seizures.
.
But what ode shall please such beauty's lineage?
Such that flaunts,like a maiden's cleavage,
Perhaps,I know of honours bower,
Orita-merin should stand our tower,
No doubt,my heart beat like a rising sun,
You make me,
Oh Adufe!
Pulchritude's pun,
Let my flanges sieze yours,on a long run.
.
*** © Adebayo Olamide(Aesthete)
#Poetry Feeds Beauty.
.
.
..........................................................................................
.
ADUFE!
Never think of future merit,
Unless it strike your glossy petit,
I assumed I could crawl to my height ,
But noticed I got stopped by my tight.
.
ADUFE!
A name that bow,
Striping human at loud,
A creature that lie,
But can we say her lie dies?
.
ADUFE!
The name wanting to be heard all day,
Even the deaf got the name instead,
I crawl bare-footed to your place,
But hope to see your beauty face some day.
.
ADUFE!
Your lips sweet in,
Your eyes sees me,
You site my heart still,
Your legs lead me to the river Nile.
.
ADUFE!
Never would I silent my mouth in saying "You are beautiful,"
But I would resist the fact you made me a deaf man,
Only can your beauty heal my deafness,
Your word emanate my mind in debt thinking of you.
.
*** © Prince joe
#Poetry Is Life.
...................................................................................................
.
Adufe
The goddess of beauty,
That fill heart's joyfulness,
The beauty beautifying hearts of bachelors,
In her eyes,happiness full.
.
Adufe the most beauty-full,
Your unsullied visage makes heart joyful,
Like the happiest,always cheerful,
But without you i am pitiful.
.
Adufe in your heart i live,
Your eye brow feeds me full,
That i sleep not without you,
For you are, the orente that defines my life.
.
Adufe come closer,
Let my lips meet yours,
Let's stay up all tonight,
Tomorrow,i can never wait.
.
Adufe i will do for you anything,
For my eyeball you own it,
I vow to make it bountiful,
Your lifetime,happiness full.
.
*** © Ajibade Abdullah( Iam-pentalk)
#Poetry Saves The World.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
Then come'st thou to thine peer,
Pray the fluid from the ear,
Then followeth thy friend to shoreline,
Unless counte thee the bathe wine,
Fie! Forgiveness not come near.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
Who would date a poet?
And have her name grow,
As a garden's eden history,
Have her lips comply with ink that smear'd,
Ears breed on a poultry of recitations,
A fun-fare of words abridge.
**
Maidens wish all to be,
Such from his gourd of honour shall you drink in perissos,
Such from his robe,and by all tongues,
Shall your name convert'd,
A new age of fame,on a beauty brick,
A spade a spade,
The new beauty queen!
**
Then minds might date back to Venus;
Beauty-borne of Dione,
And non to dare you to a contest,as Arachne,
But in Argo,you and me will thrust,
When our ears begin to drown by Arion's love song,
What more an odyssey do lasses crave!
**
And if by the phoenix of Astarte you wish,
Then thy trust is mine a pleasure,
Cook not a phobia of distrust,
Grab my hands as heartily,
For I am Apollo,god of these bleeding lines.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
Who would feed the cubs?
Those that shall one day be scrubs,
The land that hurts but weaken,
The life of the poverty stricken,
Who would shelter the pullets?
With tongues spinning spits of fear down their gullets,
Quils that gather and habour,
Drink from no gourd of splendor,
Who would hunt for the fledglings?
Bearing cozz of the days proding,
Skies that hold their pride,
Not that it complements nor wide,
Who would guide the fingerlings?
Innocent youngers of the waters hovering,
Scales trading afore in line,
A battle when awe,too handsome to decline,
Who would care for the billies?
Ears that heed not voice that harries,
She who sounds the tone,
A rift with the throat,altered by a stone.
By the rivers that gather,
The manner of happenings,
I am hurt when weaken,
But by my tent,when I sit,
Beneath the towering heat,
Of which shall continue to repeat,
And like my fragile-skinned allies,
I am hearthy from within.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
Now it is I chime with sage;
The god of wit!
Clanged his sword with warders
Of profound thinking,
Buried the hatchet with the successors of
intense cognizance,
Scrawled an epitaph of honour,
To raise the Lazarus of creativity,
And returned with bolstered wits;
Boxed in Sage's cranial faculty.
The wind of Sage blew away the foggy cloud,
For all to know that it is but only a shroud,
Sage made it known, that however small the
cub,
Not will it cease to live as a scrub,
It could even blow the whistle, against a crowd.
I chirped in a melodious tone,
Spread my two fully-feathered serrated
wings.
My eyes were blinking in delight,
I said to myself;
'at last! the saviour is come',
When she stood her beautifully built figure
Before my sight.
Oh dear!
I was in a cage,
I was in my home,
Where I was made to secure.
She never passed,
To notice as I gesticulated,
She was blind to my pretty gestures.
I cried!
All my chimeric dreams,
Escaping! through the chimney, I
thought.
Almost was I drifting into a tearful sleep,
When she freed me from my home.
She said I was beautiful!
'Pretty! ' she yelled,
My beauty striked her short of married phrases.
Poorly did I know,
That all my gestures were only a bid,
I knew not it was all a bargain,
All I wanted was to be loved by her.
R.I.P,
Lucy Trayfield.
Note:
The above poem is based on fiction,
Therefore,it is an unreal event with unreal names.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Olamide Adebayo Poem
What a world!
Where dejection ought not glide,
Kindle nor abide,
All I craved,I never had,
Nor my tears ever dried,
What of me was made,dejection's pride,
What I had thought it was,
What was meant to be home,
A bit did I know,'t was one to roam,
My feet too bare,so lone was the path,
But to fate I held,
And by faith had I compelled,
Now I genuflect in tears,
When already my dermis dwindle,
To thee I return,Set,god of the desert.
Copyright © Olamide Adebayo | Year Posted 2016
|