At the concert;
Thousands of idle workers,
Filled the stadium awaiting excitement,
Screaming and howling in the air;
Waiting for the podium to birth happiness.

On the stage;
Voice of thrilling pianos,
Screams of guitars walking to the souls,
Yelling sound of the hungry crowd;
Loosing the string of their heart.

During the concert;
Rolling heart of a roller coaster,
The music grip the heart of lover,
Beats strong enough to take us all to rapture,
Everyone brain danced forgetting the Alphabet.

After the concert;
After the seventh heaven journey;
Which I have never experienced since birth.
I digested the soft cloud voice of the Singer,
And wish to ever live in a concert.

©️ emywrites

Work

I woke up in the delightful morning,
With so much aspirations and hopes,
Feeling very happy, but something made me curious,
Work, Work, today again,

Thinking of how today will be at work,
Thinking about the struggles am gonna pass through at work,
Thinking about the queries am gonna hear at work,
But, I feel depressed by the correction am gonna see at work,
Which I will learn from it,

The Boss complains and queries,
The customers complain,
Customers’ redirections,
Work Work,

Suddenly, something came to my mind,
The Fun am gonna see at work which makes me very happy,
The love people will give or show to me,
The moral that I will learn,
The playful play I will see which will entertain me,

Do you love your work?

I have an extremely important question for you:
Do you love your life?
I mean do you really, really LOVE it?

Are you genuinely happy with who you are?
Where you are? What you have achieved?
And where you're going?

Do you feel like you were meant for something more?
Do you aspire for bigger, better, bolder?
Even if you're not entirely clear what that might mean or what it would actually look like.

More money. More time with your family and friends.
More satisfaction and fulfillment. More peace of mind.
More creativity. Maybe even the ability to make a real and lasting impact in the world.

I'm a product of ART
I'm ARTificially ARTiculated
With smART ART of ART
And an ARTistic heART of gold
More than a heART of an ARTist
With cathARTic heART of muse
Born to eARTh to ART.

Ye! Few words like a sharpened scapel,
Deftly said in a sec; but lived for years
Fiercely, reverberated in my heart like a roar
Few words but ripped my heart in shattering crevices,
Said as if it was not practiced like a movie theater.

It started like counting of numbers;
That never ends until the reader stops.
You played and dribble me like a football.
I loved like we were on the same wavelength,
But, don’t know have been walking on a parallel line.

You said I was your dream come true,
Like a slave, I obeyed your words,
But, it ended like a nightmare.
You said we will always be together,
Like a fool, I played along.

You tore my heart but not me.
You broke the pride but not the drive.
You sliced the heart but not my dream.
You left a scar but made my star
Your hurt made me a valiant.

But now my sun shines without your light.
My leaf waves without your breeze.
My bird flies without your wing.
My food tastes sweet without your salt.
My music sounds melodious without your beats.

‘Cause, now am living a **** LIFE,
The hurt U gave life.
The heart you left is now strong than a rock.
You made me the strongest lady in the world
Thanks to you.


@emywrites

TIME

Time is a Chariot bird,
With life feathered wing;
Flapping away seconds with unseen wing,
And fades in the air like an icedroplets.

Whenever I wait for it;
It looks slow like the sight of a running cloud.
Whenever am afraid of it;
It runs so Swift like a chasing dog.

Time with its magic swords,
turn memories to flashes of a flickering light.
I miss it when is there and gone.
When it ticks; my  heart feels boom! boom!

An invaluable currency that worth no currency;
That people will ever purchase even when it's not available.
Everyday is a blessing of 86,400 seconds;
which vanish without at night without remainder.

Yesterday is today; tomorrow is yesterday.
No matter how I grief on  the death of a second;
I always have it there gazing at me.

©️ emywrites

LIFE FOR ME
I have been to so many lives,
but, have not being to this kind of life,
this life is a combat for me,
That is life for me.

But, there is only one way for me to escape which is death,
which will nothing, but take my life,
So what should I do,
That is life for me.

So, I did not have any choice,
Than to live it which means I must fight it,
And while fighting, I must go through so many stages,
That is life for me.

Some of these stages are tempting,
So, tempting,
And, I have to live it,
That is life for me.

Some of these stages are surrounded with burden,
which one day I feel like dy ing,
I was so scared and tired of life,
I felt pitied by my creator
so, he blessed me
That is life for me.

The clock ticking;
Anticlockwisely to the past,
Awakening memories of unclear clouds;
Of beauty that got decayed before arrival,
And beats that got danced to before sound.

The clock ticking;
Boom! Boom! Bang!
Stabbing to the badge of slavery,
Setting hands of suffering in default,
Aborting pregnancy of dignity and respect.

The clock ticking;
Clockwisely to the present,
Where sun rays the scattered sunshine;
And the sky of scattered moth has melt.
The wind of slaved air is uncaged.

It's our time now!
Sparkling teeth of joy,
Like children's getting bribed.
We are living in the dream of our ancestors.
It's our African time.

©️ emywrites

Iaman_ADDICTED WRITER

I would die willingly;
If it kills me to leave you.
I am that muttering thunder;
That never stop until it rains.
With you I am only survivor;
Without you I am a dead spirit.

I am that pregnant woman;
Walking around with baby for nine months,
But, No! Mine is words.
Right from womb I develop feelings;
On my delivery I get pregnant again like a fluffy cloud after rain.
And till eternity, I still remain that pregnant woman.

Nothing in this world worth the smell of my addiction;
With sweet fragrance of enticing words luring heart to comfort.
Nothing in this world could beat the taste of my addiction;
Taste of emotions sweeter than sugar alcohols.
Nothing in this world could beat the touch of my addiction;
Touch of escapism like the hand of a Holy Spirit.

Do you think I was talking about cigarette?
Smiles! Writing is my substance of addiction;
When I zestfully mix the powdered emotional thought to beauty,
When I ***** my feelings into my idolize pen;
And ***** it out in phrase and stanzas on my gazing papers like canvas.
To entice you to beauty; be it tragic, happy or haze.

Well, this is my addiction for you after reading;
‘Cause I can feel my magic poesy within you.
So do not wish my pregnancy a safe delivery;
Nor my muttering thunder a swift rain.
Let me get pregnant more till eternity;
To become more addictive than a smoke addict.

©️ emywrites