HERO OF THE WEEK

HERO OF THE WEEK
POET OF THE WEEK: DAN DEDIVER OBODOEFUNA . "SONNET VIII (18th April, 2013)

Sunday 25 November 2012

GARDEN OF DREAMS



I see the reflection of the moon..
As I sat by the river aloof..
In my heart were reminisces..
Reeled in d moonlights mood..

I see the fireflies..
Singing by the oak tree..
In this garden of dreams..
I see the dawn of gleams..
Passing by The river beams..
My emotions streams..
As I walk through life's ills...
In humble glee...

In the chirping of the crickets...I see hope...
Restoring the years...sown in tears..
If the moon shine in the laughter of the sun..
Then let the blessings of childhood to me come..

Let the whispers of the nights' owl...
Whisper sweet secrets to my waning soul...
In thoughts to which my solitude bade me thus...
Being revealed in the haven of salient spurs..


ARMAGEDDON




Great day comes with fears
With much hurring it nears
Chariots soaring in whirling pace
White army storming like locust phase
Thus pours the seventh bowl
Ev'n earth's bowel tasted the bowl
Legion of angel drawn in wrath
Begun sails gallant star breath
Unsheated blades spirals and gust
So pours bloody flood like dust

Combatic conflict soars high
The last war hit here and multiply
Heaven weeps hail-fire storm
Aye cajoling coercfully our form
With God in wrathfull fury
We taste distressful fury
Clouds frowning in thick gloom bay
So darkness and gloominess bay
Blindlessly we ran here or there
Alas! No fotress here or there


LOSS OF HIS ONLY COMPANION



Behold thy sister - on a journey so long,
behold she leaves to return no more,
behold thy sister - thy only companion,
remember your times for there'll never be more,

wipe your tears 'for she's gone already,
no matter the wail she ne'er return,
begin to mourn - for your sister is dead,
oh this lad shall wail but the deed is done,

silence and seethe have crept in to stay,
to sharpen his pain and succor disdain,
he'll carry
 the load all - all alone,
just grief his psyche and spirit to maim,

A LONELY WALKER



On Earth,a lonely walker
To die someday,a lonely decayer
My heart in deep solitude
Pumps fumes with no praise
My life,an enchanted veranda
Were no one but my buttocks fit
I gaze at d weary sea
And compare his calmless to thee
A Lonely walker,i am
To soar life with my legs

A Dream Of Amageddon



Lucid Thoughts Wavering Amidst Blurred Images..
Spirit Drowned In Lethal Graffiti..
Spider Legs Of Confusion Creep Up..
Mortal Thoughts Mutilated Beyond Regularity..
For Ammased Yet In Burrows Of Sheol..
An Army Of Darkness..Numbered As Sand..

I AM ME



I come to you with word syrups of substance
So silent in texture yet so deafening in fragrance,
Rhythmic,ecletic and a simple dose in an instance,
Might be enigmatic cos it will set your toes on a dance.

I come to you with ink capsules capable of putting you in a trance
My style freeverse not always freelance,
I'm artfully worded yet simplicity is my stance,
I'm Nigerian,yet exotic as if from France.

I AM AWAKE



I am awake.
The gods i'll woo with the myrrh of my words.
With my bleeding pen Heaven will be upon me.

I am awake!
For gallantly graciously i rise,
In honey-sweet triumphant wails.
My tongue will rain brimestone of blazing truth.
They will hide their face.
Aye they wil hide their face.
Those whose fart pricks the nose of my folks.

THE SICK LOVER THOUGHTS



Is there a way to wich dis pain might go away..
For all i see is the weariness within..

If my heart be still, then let its breath not go astray..

For in it bleed the wounds of fume..
Wrought upon by the feelings of sheer gloom..

Why wud the moon be so conceited..?
To hid its brighteness from the stars..
Why would she delight in making d stars dim its light...


I GOT A STORY



My life sucks
Everything about it
My effort I see
Fizzling away
My dreams I see
Dwindling afar
“Sky is the limit”
They all say
But I wonder why the sun
Has gone beyond my reach
Many times I hit it close
“Not good enough” I hear.


THE PROMISE (IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY LATE MOTHER)




She has been acquainted with pain
She has out walked the dry land and rain
You can call her the bravest of heart
She has looked down the saddest light
She can say it’s alright
Even when I know, she’s breaking up inside.

She can hide pain under the sun’s glee
And the moon would hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew
All her bright ebony hair
Tarnished with rust
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust
The bread I broke with you
Was more than bread
Now that I am without you
All that was so beautiful is dead.

Letter From The W!zarÐ-þ£n


















I told myself
To g!ve !t uþ
The womb of wealth
Of vasted croþ.

I made a mark
I made my þath
I bade God's ark
To þlease my heart.

The grasses bleed
Off w!lt'd brown
To scr!þture-creed
I won't bow down.