₦airaland Forum

Timzy234:
dadevin please comment

I'm no pro, so my comment will b based on my perspective.
12Months is grand, can leave someone in tears even if presented with slow music. like the fact that it is simple and easy to comprehend, the pain of a lost love make d topic more Poetic in my opinion (As Edgar Poe Would say)
We Regret is also a sad poem in my view, all them sly poliTRICKians that prey on the needs of the people to get to the top and once they are there they become gods that don't care. Really common in our beloved Nigeria.
Image of her made me stunned, i like the language u use to portray her beauty...

We had a family is a similar style as the other 3(easy to comprehend and usual language) Another societal problem in Nigeria - Tribalism. Really nice.

Like i said, I'm no pro buh it's worth reading over and over and over... more Inspiration bro...
P.S: Using my phone so cant proofread, do forgive and ignore my errors... Cheers

.

.

.

Ebony

Ebony is her skin
Silky, Milky Ebony!
Once, she was a child,
I saw nothing but a mild pony
I tell you, she was ebony
And i too was a child
Seeing nothing angelic on her being
For her blemish beamed wild
And her skin was ebony!

Since flower with age fade,
I cannot liken her as thus
For she is Ebony
Once a wild pony
Age graced her as she laid
Washing those blemish that once was a loss
Still her skin is Ebony,
Yes, the silky, milky Ebony.
Now, her absence amongst all is a loss

What more can one seek?
Beauty has equaled Ebony!
The lust attained at the sight of her lips
Mild pony has become angelic Ebony!
That child was all bony,
Now graced with curls and curves. Behold such hips
The wonder of the dry well on her right cheek
Ice melt for her touch with her tips
Alas the raw beauty of Ebony!

Tender Ebony is a flower
That age fades not
Pleasure is derived from the sight of Ebony
The transformation of a mild pony
Before my eyes-beauty's shower
Her charm cannot be likened to your lot
For her skin is Ebony,
Silky, Milky Ebony
As the sun, she is hot.

Sonnet-Amazing

My words may not strike you as lovely, true.
I may not be amongst your worthy few
But curse is i if i let this day sleep,
And this content of my heart eludes you.
I have seen smiles, but none my soul could keep
Then I graced yours, when my spirit was blue.
How my body beamed at such amazement,
Such beauty, that mine eyes twinkled with praise
My lips moved, but no word to breathe it life
As a believer, my closed hands i raise
For the wonder behind this smile is rife
Not that you shine without many a dent,
What then surpass this beauty I'm facing?
None known, for you truly are amazing.

.

.

merit12:
The kiss dream


I have always want to kiss his soft lips,
I do not have courage to tell him
I don't want to lost the friend I cherish.
All of a sudden his smiling face came closer,
I saw his eyes shone bright like a diamond
He brought his face close to me .
I draw my face more closer with all my best smile
He planted a soft kiss on my lips,
I lost my self in his lips and tongue
I was lost but find my self in him.
As I hold him to kiss him harder
I felt a hot slap on lip,I opened my eyes
Oh it was a dream,the kissed dream.


young.


Thank you

It's compelling to read, easy to understand (No deep meaning attached, all surface clear) like the ending, desire turned fantasy. I'm Not a pro analyst on poetry, just my opinion... Ur next poem, be sure to add more spice to it, play with words more. i saw the picture in this though
Cheers

donifez:
christmas with grandma.


Red flicky lights found on every street,
little kids gather each with a piece of steak,
truck load of goats..all we hear is bleat,
tucking us in our little bed ...we found it hard to sleep.

dawn is here...christmas eve is gone,
then the knock came...grandma is at the door,
little kids gather ...each giving her a hug,
with swollen eyes she reciprocated our love,

now its time for story...grandma gave each of us a gift,
how i sang in my mind...a song called perfect bliss,
with nodding heads...we began to grieve,
A story of a man who died on christmas day without eating beef.

All of a sudden we noticed tears in her eyes,
each hitting the ground...gently like a drizzling tap,
with our little hands we gave her a pat,
then it dawned on us why grandma cried.

for on the spot she sat,...was where granpa last christmas....breathed his last.

*duff my hat*

.

The Fool
There are many kind of fools!
There are the mad fools, humble fools, wise fools and even the stupid fools and many others. But of all kind of fools, the most foolish is without dispute the foolish fool. The saddest thing about the foolish fool is they are everywhere, more within the youthful age. Once i myself was a foolish fool, thinking my folly was wisdom, or should i say destiny. A foolish fool can be one that believe that love is the ultimate. Once i was in love, once i was a foolish fool, thinking the foolishness will take me away from my sorrow. You may say i have been unfortunate or cruel to tag love as foolishness, but the more foolish you are, the more you will fail to understand my standing.
I was young and foolish like many my age, and i feel in love with... (Her name is not relevant in this stead, for she is dead). But in the period of my foolishness, she was my sunshine, endowed with the beauty of a thousand seraphs. When she speaks, mocking birds and nightingales learn, yes! She was beautiful. As a result of my foolishness, i worshipped her daily until i was cured of my folly.
The fruit of my labor i would use to ornament her lips and cheeks with smiles and blushes. Yes! Fresh purple garment every now and then to surprise her, gold earrings and bracelet to decorate her, i made sure the fashion in vogue were below her feet. How she spoke of her love for me like i was her David in times of Goliath's turbulence. Flowers became her constant companion, because i blessed her with bouquet on countless occasions. All this and more foolishness goes to tell you I was amongst the worst fool on earth - a foolish fool.
As the economist would say, the higher the income, the higher the demand. Thus mere purple laces became as rags to her, gold was as sand and she craved diamonds. Her towering demands couldn't be satisfied by my labour's fruit, let alone love poetry and letters that once were her pleasure.
"Why crave for diamonds, the value is beyond me" i would say, and she will reply " All i demand is to remain as beautiful as you say i am, am I not worth more than Diamonds? Get them for me my love, for if i were you i would have done more just to make you happy. Do not let my pairs mock me"
I was a foolish fool, and hustle i would just for the sake of love, or should i say to keep love.
In the fullness of time, reality gave me its gall in a clothing of honey. She whom i called love, whom called me love was to be married to another i hear the street chant about. Then i realized i was foolish. Still i would go each day to beg her forgiveness if i wronged her, but all i did was paint my foolishness foolish. And from sleepless nights and sober meditations, i came to the realization i had been a foolish fool.
Thus i graduated to the stage of a Humble fool. My calmness enraged my friends, and even me at night. But i spoke no more of her or my love for her, i even accepted the invitation to her wedding with pleasure. But on the eve of the marriage ceremony, the anger within me burned and i recalled all my foolishness. This anger lead to rage, thus i crossed the level of the humble fool to the Mad fool.
On the day of her blissful marriage ceremony, I in my mad fool's state stormed the venue with inner rage. While others were merry, i moved about without notice carrying out the plot of my rage caused by foolishness. As i stepped out of the hall, a large cry was heard from within as smoke escaped through the windows and shut doors, for i had set the hall ablaze.
Now i stand on a barrel for stance, with a thick rope around my neck tied to a tree. My punishment, said the judge is death for my wickedness. I stand on the barrel with hands tied behind my back and eyes moving from the crowd that came to the masked man that is to take my life. As the priest spoke of redemption which i paid no attention to, the masked man drew out a knife and cut swiftly the rope tied to my neck. Without hesitation, i took to my heels and so did he. I have accepted the fate of exile rather than death for my foolish act.
Not to confuse you, during the period of my trial, i had crossed bridges towards becoming a wise fool. I had paid huge amount as bribe just to escape death, thus i became a wise fool. Running with my hands still tied behind, i smiled for i have plotted wisely amidst this foolish state. I had also paid for a boat and packed all my values and necessaries therein so as to paddle away and begin life anew.
In the ecstatic happiness of my wisdom, i jumped from the cliff towards the river, forgetting i was to find a way to cut the rope binding my hands. All this came to my realization as i took the jump from the cliff with my eyes fixated on the boat not too far away which i was supposed to swim towards and paddle to a new life.
I had been a foolish fool, then a humble fool, and rage flew me to become a mad fool, but the love of life changed me into a wise fool. Now I'm drowning, for my legs are tired and no longer can i stay afloat. Soon the world will see my body atop, carried by the current of the river, and the boat where in i was to paddle to freedom will tell my story - that I all for love died the worst death i could, as a stupid fool.

The maiden's pain is not of the hands, neither is it of the body. The maiden's pain is not in words you whisper, neither is it in songs sang. But her pain is of the heart, which eats deeps into the very soul with each tear. Do not judge her because she lost her pride, do not mock her for she was young and naive, do not kill her with words of filth for the pain of the heart is greater than that of the body. The body wound shades blood, but the heart's tears is thicker. The body would leave scars, but sleepless night is more poisonous. Bed of blood is uncomfortable for the night, but a wet pillow is unpleasant to life.
The maiden's pain can be caused by scars of forceful pleasure from wolves. The maiden's pain can be as a result of being lost to the maze of the youth mixed with sweet tunes of flattery. The maiden's pain can be of rejection, neglect and provocation by those she opened her heart to.Yet she is looked upon as a creature for pleasure and amusement. She is disregarded as the neck of the head, her values are ignored and her pain discussed. The maiden's pain was triggered by circumstance, condition and chance.
Ignore not her beauty, for she to the eyes may be a faded rose. Mock not her stance, for she may be a faded cloth. Her happiness would be, not of things with price tags, or things of the flesh. As her pain is of the heart, her happiness shall spring from the heart. In the fullness of time, her soul shall whisper to her, and life shall change it's course towards her. Her bed shall become that of roses, her pillow made from lightest of feathers and her face may become as the goddess.
Treat her with respect while she yet weep. Cloth her with love, even as her heart is Unclad. Feed her with hope, for in due season she might become your bridge to happiness and fortune never before seen. The maiden's pain is only for a while, for soon she shall smile.

P.S: Never look down on people, not even the beggar by your side...