Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Alone, I stand,
looking into the face of
The night, dark and dull
The owl gazes and grimaces
At my needful act,
That was wrapped in my sloth.
It felt the beat of my swirling heart
As I had wished and expected
And whispered through its stars
Sometimes words are not needed
Our actions and gestures
Fulfill the requirements.
I understood its teaching.
Tomorrow is my day.
I will daze the world.
Quiet down my dear heart
And let your silence call him into your chambers
Oh the chase
 Apr 2019 Emeka Mokeme
arian
the glass is neither half full, nor half empty.
it is rather full and overflowing.
it, then, creates
an ocean of images
of past lovers.
i'm drowning.
 Apr 2019 Emeka Mokeme
harlee kae
what is a heart
what is a head
if one is alive
must the other be dead
if one is in charge
of the picking and choosing
will the other be left
with the hurt and the losing
 Apr 2019 Emeka Mokeme
Ruheen
Candle
 Apr 2019 Emeka Mokeme
Ruheen
Like a burning candle,
I melt.
Disappear right before your eyes.
Gone before you even notice.
                              That flicker you see
                                  The moment of hesitation
      Is me almost not wanting to leave
                 Almost
                                            I'll burn you
 Within a few seconds
                                       I'll burn down myself
     Within another
             Touch me and
                                          All you'll feel is pain
                                                            ­       I'm cold at first
                   But only because I'm so dangerous
                I'll hurt you,
Which is something I just don't want to do.
Well....yeah I have nothing to say. Make of it what you will.
Make this want wither,
O Rain!

Dig a brook hither
In my vein,

And plant on either side
Of my pain

A score of dancing
Bluebells.
(C)LazharBouazi
I
The rain falling now
In Carthage -
A nectar
Of rainness -
Is like the grains
Of couscous
Made the day of
Celebration.
II
In Carthage now
The scent of rain
Is like the sound of
Pain
Memory has lost
To imagination.

© LazharBouazzi
Next page