₦airaland Forum

Yossarian:
Hello Forandy. I like this verse. It draws a pretty good emotional response as a short, stand-alone poem. If it had appeared anywhere but at the top of your rather lengthy effort I would probably have never gotten to it. This is because I find the rest of the poem quite flat. Large portions read like an ordinary speech, without any of the movement and music of poetry. I would like to see you try your hand on more one-piece poems like the above. I'm sure you could make more in that mold if you put your mind to it.

Thanks much for the advice, I would see to that

With poetry--

A lonely woman
can write about her lover
on valentine's day.
She can describe his most endearing traits
line upon line upon line--
as if...he existed.

A young girl
can share her deepest erotic thoughts,
demonstrating an ability
to take the reader's hand
and guide them with her words,
leaving them satiated--
but only
if she's skilled enough.

For those depressed
and those searching
to release their pain--
It's a bloodletting.

They've been raped,
they've been bullied,
ignored and even wounded.
The dark side held them too long.

They need you to listen
or simply just notice they're alive.
They may wonder if writing
is all a fruitless endeavor
when their written cries for help
go unnoticed.

But behind poetry's walls...

A man can offer us a character,
from a fictitious town
that resembles trees, sidewalks,
roads and even paths
of his own treasured youth.

An adolescent can share a broken heart
with a seemingly invisible world.
He/she can release all the angst,
tear by tear,
until the poem has ended--
for now.

Poetry is a haven
for ideas, rants, memories or thoughts
that otherwise would go unheard by most.
The family simply wouldn't understand.

It is a platform
for those skilled or unskilled;
for those confident
and those apprehensive;
for those that standout
and those whose computer
is their only escape.

Some here,
have painstakingly learned
poetry has its elements:
meter, rhyme, metaphor, and more.
As for others,
form, cadence, line breaks...
are all unimportant.

The prolific and the obscene;
those with morals
and those without;
religious; atheists...
they're all involved.

People have left poetry
for greener pastures,
only to re-emerge
days, weeks, or even years later
when the writer needed another ear
to listen to all he/she wanted to say.

It is a source of frustration,
joy and confusion,
all mentioned into one place.

It is your yesteryear, your today,
and all your tomorrows.

It's a percentage of your life,
your time and your thoughts.
It consists of creation
and destruction.

It's a statement; it's a confession.
It's a voice that understands;
It's a disciplinarian that doesn't.
It's a welcome sign.
It's a keep out sign.
It's a microcosm of continents
and far off cultures.
It's a ghost from the past.
It's a community.
It's a small town.
It's a lyrical lagoon.

It's you...it's me...it's us
sailing within
our own private harbor.

And we call it

POETRY.

Perhaps, if she were handed a few of your clothes you turned to rags, the cold wouldn't be too much for her to handle as she sleeps in that dilapidated building, hoping tomorrow comes the next second so she could continue with her daily hawking.

Have you ever bothered paying attention to the look on her face, with the prettiness hidden behind those sores and scars caused by the rough floor she sleeps on regularly...have you? Oh! Obviously not.

Have you pictured your family member, perhaps a sister or even your daughter in her shoes? Oh, sorry to ask, cos you've barely noticed she's always doing those with her feet bare.

I wonder what else you need as a drive for an easy help to freely render.

I wonder if you would rather some indecent members of the male folk take advantage of her condition, using her as a tool for...oh! You know already don't you?

Just maybe, you prefers she pays no regard to her dignity and puts a price tag on that body. I guess then you'd be on the safe side saying "she's lazy, she chose that path herself, she's lacking morals" and all along the lines of that.

Oh well, it's all left for you to decide your next line of action when next you see her (cos surely you will), but I can only hope you'd be the reason she tells herself and probably others that kind people still exist.

Joeyy:
Simple. Touching. Sad.

Yea, right!

Noneejiofor:
good one

Thanks much

Morelaa:
interesting dear

Thanks hon

Let my imperfectly passionate voice
Serenade away your cloudy blues
Dance gingerly, genuinely with your seething Reds
In that I may witness the blossoming of your victorious violets

Let me squint under the piercing radiance
Of your flagrant Yellows
Swim the depths of your oceanic Indigos
Just to luxuriate within the meadows
Of your enviable Greenery

Let me dare the morbid embrace
Of your deathly Crimsons
Smolder within the embers of your seductive Ambers
As I am sweetly sickened by your
Tangy Orangeness

Swirl with me girl
Let the tip of my midnight sable smear the pallet
Of those torrential emotions of yours
Delicately..deliberately
Then...
Spontaneously..
Splash...splash...splash..splash

Here..a dash of watercolors
To accentuate your curvature
Airbrush your lungs to
Exhale the many hues of you
Highlight your eyes in the boldest pastels
Imbue your heart in the richest of oil paints
Stroke you up and down in sensual acrylics

This chromatic fascination with you
Colors my imagination
Your essence is the machination behind
The movement of my soul-fingers..

Even now your rainbow lingers baby....
Long after you're gone..
Yes...it does..

Damn

You wonder why I'm pale
Why I share no smile
Why I've become a sorry tale
A personality defiled

It was a quirk of fate
That resulted from a choice
To find a soul to mate
Now I can't rejoice

My hitherto smiles have faded
Strength and courage gone
My emotional being is raided
My defences are torn

So I found a friend in you
A perfect one to keep
But you've broken my heart in two
So secretly I weep

And hid the pain away
So far so you won't see
Be it night or day
The hurt you did to me

Hoping we'd find our way
To how it was before
Hoping each time I pray
But it's not working anymore

So I unmask my pain
Today I must let it go
Won't hold them in again
Just thought I let you know

To let you know I'm here
With hopes that aren't dead
Intact in love and care
For you're still precious in my head

He grew quite fond of her,
Saw something beyond the surface
As she shared with him the pond of her untaintedness
A place where they could bond and build together

So he willed himself into a better man
Better than the fraudulent yesterdays that once plagued him
Went from thug to warrior
Fighting now for the right reasons

His nurturer..his wisdom
His fertile earth sent to him as love's missionary
Turned him into a visionary
Looking for the first time to a hopeful future

Sans chrome plated delusions
Going..growing from boy to man...
...to husband then father in that order

The co-author of a son and a daughter
He and she rewriting a tainted scripture
Together with him as her alpha
And she as his omega.

BonetEzra:
Your choice and romance of words is something to admire my friend.. Pls keep it up!

I'm simultaneously flattered and thankful

Lordmavidon:
Men I love ❤ it

thanks man

Osasnidas:
interesting

thank you!

prince985:
which yeye wind?...all i can hear from here is generator sound

LMAO

Benjax:
This is Good!
And I mean: GOOD!!!
*More power to your elbows dearie.

and I'm grateful. More power yours too