[center]‘Mortality’

We learn day after day,
We get to see through the haze.
Like students that we are,
We face the challenges and roughness,
That type which moves us to tears.

Today was different,
Didn’t just lament,
Didn’t just feel like a mortal that I am,
Felt like Samson,
A strong desire to see the end in my very best.

After the reaffirmation of mortality,
Saw a woman in need:
‘What is the problem?’
‘My fuel just finished. I need help to push my car home.’
Did I act like a human?
I’m human.

At home,
Transience and I was at it again.
Mum just got paid and she had to expend,
It was all finished.
Was I human?
Was a god; she needed the power of one[/center]

Hey nilla,
I just hope u are still a fair judge.
Enjoy pals!!!!!!!!!!

Love?

Is Love that lady in your bed?
That thing of beauty next to you
Is Love that mystrey in your head
That clouds your mind with words unsaid?

Lov's The girl men love so much
She's the man girls dream to kiss
She's everything from cramps to blush
I behold love, I feel malaise

Lov's the conqueress of kings
The valint wordless touch of death
With words unspoken, the brute she tames
Love is death, the incarnate

Lov's an illusion to my brain
Lov's a feeling or a place
Lov's where I go to catch a train
Lov's what I do to keep mundane.

you tried,
but where is Nilla?
maybe she doen't want to see you beaten.
i think the one for nilla is still ur best.
check this out.

[center]When we walk through trials,
We can only persever with a cognate reason,
That type which impossibly propels you through the eye of a needle,
The little but impossible possible push.

You could be god-sent,
Be specially thought of,
Probably a stubborn fondness,
Just one potent reason.

What happens if you no longer want to be the reason?
What if you want out of a struggle you powerlessly simplify?
What happens if you're really being reasonable?
What if I'm hanging unto an illusion?

So many questions,
Questions with very simple but ravaging answers,
Answers with excruciating pains a reason alleviates,
That reason I can live with, but with acute cardiac complications.[/center][color=#990000][/color]

My computer's down. I don't have ready internet access. I'll get my act right soon. but till then, I'll shoot you with another blank:


A poet's a poet
A lov'r is himself
I'm the star you're the commet

There'a place
There's a stage
Where men write, so boys can play

There's a mind
Where life lives
Where stages play, and lov'rs blind.

Guys your both really gooooooooooooood.

Continue writing, its almost as if i cant get enough of both of you.

sorry i wasn't online earlier today. will be online late tomorrow.

Macalurs, the following two lines of yours, I don't like em. A woman is NOT a THING!

macalurs: Is Love that lady in your bed?
That thing of beauty next to you

Macalurs, the following two lines of yours, I don't like em. A woman is NOT a THING!

here are some more questions

Are humans animals?

What are words?

Who are you?

There are even more questions:

Is a star a sun?

Is a school a building?

Is a woman a woe man?


Don't miss my points: (1) I said "thing" and not "animal" and (2) you just wrote "lady" but did not compare the "man" to a "thing"!

@somegirl,
You cannot think like a man, and probably'll never understand the inscription.

If your love is everything to you, then he/she is everyTHING, period. If you have any more problems, keep em to yourself. Poems are works of art, not caricatures.

Movin on. . . . .


Life?

"Life's a tale told by an idiot"
Saith Macbeth.
I say a dead rose, a sour apricot
Or a dying breath:
Life's a game for the confused.
God's favorite curve-ball;
Life is Death's only `etude,
It's dull music to mull.

Our baby's first sound was a rueful cry
And then quiet!
A choking stillness engulfed the night
Our eyes glared in fright;
Like it knew the end from the start,
It chose to die before it lived;
A sight so cold it froze my heart,
It took nothing to nothing give.

With hopelessness that traps water with a sieve,
Men choose to hope;
That time will tell, so the obstinate believe
Like inventing soap.
A quest desperate-- all in all-- to life allay
Men stalk the earth;
But like my minute-old son died today,
Every life ends at birth.

And you are not a woman and can never think like a woman.

Macalurs, when you do art, you will not only hear praise but also criticism, and not only from fellow male poets like Gwatala, but from artistic women and (fe)male non-poets as well. Get used to it or move away from (publicly displaying your) art.

@ macalurs,

Nice one, but how does life end at birth.

It's a figurative term. It's like saying, you're striving to live when you're as good as dead.

The poem is an analysis from a hurt man's point of view. His son dies at birth so he concludes all life is hopelessly meaningless, in an atempt to console himself his son's in a better place.

hey somegurl,
take it easy on my man plz.
he is a poet and at liberty to write what he feels, and probably take criticism as a way to get even better.
what's the deal, we doing this to get better and nilla can destify to that.
lets do them writing sisters,
it's a way of pouring out those things that wanna maKE US ILLEST.
check my latest out.

[center]The stars are thousand of miles away,
I see how it twinkles far above,
An alluring radiation in a dark sky,
A spectacle in my solitude.

As i sit with my back to a trunk,
With head clasped in hands,
Heart so full and struck,
Walks deep down in gasps,
A citadel where it's left to lurk.

Someplace in seclusion,
I stare at those eyes, the smile, those lips; YOU,
A journey through me , my soul to you,
An acknowledgment of your absence and admiration.

My desire,
A dream that lasts not forever,
But a life time of obsession,
Pure and sincere,
The song on the lips of a lover.[/center][/color][color=#000099]

hmmmmmmmm franc1982.

Ok maculurs where are you. You dont want franc to take the price now do you?

why don't u just give it to me b4 he gets back.
he is really good pal,
i respect his works.
where is somegirl?
lets jion hands to make this fun.
that's what life is all about.
i'll be offline for sometime,
haven't and really miss u already.
just take care

Baby-girl you know I wont. . . .


Destiny

Our lips met and time stopped
As the sun watched a mortal kiss a goddess
When eyes are kissed shut, emotions erupt
And souls entwine in their own furnace
I stop as tears from her eyes roll
T'was just us two, and no tomorrow.

The wind is still 'tis evening
Nothing's moved like nothing dares
Even the birds refuse to sing
Like God hath paused His chores and stare
She moans softly as I, kisses trace;
I lick the sweet tears from her face.

My melting heart I cannot help
My tears let go as I taste her breasts
She smells like angels wish to smell.
We'll make love in tears as we UnCloth,
That it be told and re-told in the cosmos as destiny;
She shall wake in my arms and the rest-- History.

I was here. And I'm loving it. Cheers all.

awwwwwwww.

its getting hot in here. Ok franc1982 ok lets see you counter that.

@ gwatala,

welcome to the club .

IS IT TRUE THAT EFCC WANT 2 RECRUICT BUT IS VERY STRESSFULL ON THE SITE I CAN'T EVENT LOCATE WHRE TO POST MY CV OGA OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yo  T-boi you got the wrong house number. Try politics room. _{EFCC . . . . jisus kryst!}

Franc, I only told your friend that I did not like a certain PART of his poem. Instead of accepting it, agreeing with it or arguing against it, he gave me an incomprehensible/irrelevant, but possibly pejorative response (who are you [to critic my poem]?). As you can clearly see in his last post to me, he did not only not appreciate my comment but even got annoyed, forgetting that criticism can improve one's writing (as you stated above).

Macalurs, what you didn't understand is that I would not even have made the effort to criticize your poem if I had not seen anything good in it at all. Maybe you too should get a thicker skin.

. . .

MOVIN' ON Oga frank wee you nah?

omo mi nilla nwa, you're godsent. You the fruitee-est fruit of your parent's labor.

I love you pass my mama kitchen. Oya gimme de prize before franko return.

You know say you be my . . . e-know . . . _{make I kuku write you another love-poem make frank miss-out}

macalurs, your cracking me up .

I wont be a fair judge now if i do that.

meanwhile on the other hand take it easy with somegirl so you guys don't spoil the flow of the thread.

---

meanwhile on the other hand take it easy with somegirl so you guys don't spoil the flow of the thread.

Aight

[quote][/quote]
Men, that was really nice.
I must confess love poems is ur greatest strenght.
I bring it on,
Just wait a little.