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Posts tagged with "Poem"

Love Letter...From Debi To Deborah.

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Vacant of all femininity,
was my mind,
until i saw u,
so beautiful,
u took d vacancy,
& now its only of u i think,
of moments together,
in love forever,
with you debi,
to always cherish.
words are hard to come by,
they are lost as i look into your eyes,
all i want to say,
i can't remember,
my purpose,
so hard to speak out.
in this moment,
with my love,
i'm lost in the hunt,
i become a victim hunted,
in my arms,by my side,for you i wish,
in your eyes,with your smile,for you i become weak,
i am yours,you are loved,
be mine, & give me your love,
to be my number one,my only one,
& there'll be no other one,
not now nor in the future,
& together we'll remain forevermore,
with love to you deborah,
from debi your true lover.

They Are Everywhere... Reasons To Be Alive...

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there was a time,
that i'd give everything just to die,
i couldn't kill myself,
because of my religious set,
it says suicide is a sin,
so i wouldn't do anything,
or i'd end up forever damned,
in hell, not in heaven,
so,i was waiting for the bus to hit me,
for the knife to cut me while in the kitchen,
for the fan to fall from the ceiling,
for sleep to forever take me
i was wishing for something to do it,
everything or anything, at least something,
but not me,
it didn't happen,
infact,the knife would miss me deliberately,
the bus would be so slow even if i were in its front it wouldn't kill me,
and the fan, it just kept on spinning without falling,
but as years passsed,
with my mind blogging me about life's reality,
i started realizing
that many had no food to eat,
not even clothes to wear,
i saw on CNN a woman on top of a tree giving birth
as water made them homeless
all over africa, i watch men and women struggling to make ends,
in rwanda, men and women with an arm or no arms at all,
the comedians call it handless or short-sleeve when it's not even funny at all,
as time flies,
i find more reason to stay alive,
i want to help with my life,
i want to stay alife to keep many more alive,
now i wonder why i ever wanted to die,
was it because my clothes weren't much,
or that we didn't have more then enough,
the food , the money, the clothes,
but we had some, we even had new ones every christmas and new year,
our parents, the made sure of us,
the rice, the chicken and to water it down some softs,
i learnt later how many never had nothing to wear,
how the christmas songs they never get to hear,
and no bread to eat,
yet they lived,
they didn't wish to die,
nor gave up on life,
unlike me
who had everything,
i learnt my lessons,
i learnt if i die,
many others would die
and if i lived,
many others did,
not that i was V Important,
but i'm so relevent,
to help the needy,
to shelter the children in the streets,
i knew what i wanted to be,
to be something, if not everything for somebody...

A Woman's Touch At Chrismas!

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As the cold pierced through,
i felt my hands tremble,
my wears wasn't simple,
yet, it didn't feel good.
by the fire,
i stood,
warming my hands,
but it helped no better
than a dime a sweater.
Just a thought of you Amina,
and myself i asked,
what would be better than something natural,
someone with a will & a fire inside,
again i asked,
the heater, or the touch of a woman,
i picked up my phone & dialled,
and you came to be my side,
one look into your eyes,
as we slept in each others arms,
i knew the answer,
what i needed was by my side,
holding me close in her arms,
and in that moment in time,
i wished for the winter,
and the chrismas,
never to pass by.

A Love Sprung Poetry...

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I thought of making rhymes,
of making a poem that's nice,
but all that was in my mind,
was you Amina,
thoughts of our promises of love yesternight,
how we said we'd be forever,
and then held each other through the night,
as we fell asleep in each others arms,
we didn't touch,
yet, it was more than making love,
we knew what we desired not,
not lust, love,
love as firm as a rock,
& untouchable like the sun,
like it, hot,
always giving warmth,
but as i became concious of my thoughts,
i woke up to the realization,
that even in my thoughts of love,
for Amina,my all & only one,
a poem, not short but long
has sprung forth...
with love.

crisis

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the spill of blood
was the crash of the city's laws,
for a moment though
yet so much chaos,
it was tough and rough,
and so many died thus,
still, it wouldn't stop,
the rattling of gun shots,
the clanking of matchets,
as blood made the streets red,
the scene was rare,
thus, many fled,
days passed,
then turned into weeks of fright,
with time,
brothers knew not each other,
families would divide,
turn apart by tribal ties,
the government came in-between
with soldiers holding sophisticated weaponry
but the people of power would increase their armoury,
swear oaths of loyalty with the boys
and take them to spiritual men for protection,
wherein they are then given some naira's as moltivation,
many died,
but the instigators,
none of them nor their family would hit ground,
they were all covered,
even as houses got burnt,
and city was up-turned,
the people would know better,
but only much later
when all has been said and done,
when the town has been thorned with war,
at last, it was dialogue,
that which should have been done before,
that was now sort for...
it passed and eased out,
but till now, the scars are all around...

The Strength Of My Beauty.

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The language spoken by what i have is understood by all,
it's dialect is soft, and it's utterance commands many to fall,
like when i swing, as i walk,
i feel their thoughts as they succumb,
their imagination play with my image like it was a gun,
'cause as they always say, my beauty is such they've never seen before,
the rise & fall,
my top & bottom,
i'm without arrogance,
yet with lots of pride,
for what i have,
& how it has made me who i am,
i am
every guys imaginary diva,
a princess with no disguise,
and this fact the guys realize,
for only the superstars,
dare look me in the eyes,
but, it's not just any guy that can look into my eyes that picks me,
no, sometimes i take the initiative,
i make my advances,
& at the end for sure,
my beauty is seen by all,
and appreciated by many more.

opera's inspiration...

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my poems drop out from my mind in rhymes,
whenever i visit opera and want to write,
they swell and develop like ripples,
as if it was so simple,
and from blankness,
a whole poem is created,
at first,the destination is not known,
even by me,for only the poem knows it's home,
it spins it's way,
and seems to be heading away,
but it says to me,
trust my will,
and then it leads me,
and i just write as it spills,
at the end,
opera is not only an inspiration but also an outlet of my talent...

Beauty becomes a curse.

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Her beauty was the,
birth of her insanity
'cause when she found it,
she let go of her humility,
she dropped her loved one,
then dropped down her honour,
and walked out the door.
January 2010
S M T W T F S
December 2009February 2010
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