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6.0k · Dec 2016
May I introduce myself?
Hi! My name is poetic and I'm poetical,
I shine with the pen and I always get lethal.
Don't be stunned when my poetry's jab
Causes plague and blinds you with a flap!

My speech is rooted in truth
And my words are anchored by oath.
The metaphor speaks for itself
And the simile becomes my wealth.

I am a poet,you don't seem to know it!
I don't think twice,I just blow it!
The poem that you've just read today
Was taken raw from the shelf by the way.

I was a broken puzzle
And now with these words as I addazzle,
I can say poetry brought it all together
And made mild conditions of the weather.

Don't hate,I speak my mind,
And regret after the words are combined
To infiltrate your soul and propagate
A well refined feeling of weight!

Half the words I orchestrate the meaning,
The other half I display with grinning.
What matters is that I planted the seed
And you nurture it well as you read!
This poem was posted on my fb wall and many other fb groups,so some of you might have read it.

After being invited here,with this account,I noticed the account I made that was accepted,I had registered with this poem and an invalid email. So after cancelling that account,I figured I should share the poem.hope you enjoyed your read.

(Check out this poem and others on my facebook page 'Plotting Out The Words'.)
689 · Dec 2016
Don't Worry
Don't worry,the world is not a monster,
Though it bares its fangs on you first-time,
Tomorrow it shall be tainted with no crime,
And happiness shall be like a sister!

Don't worry,whenever you worry,tensions hurry,
Luck is outran,outdone,ladyluck is gone!
Just let the moon guide you through this zone
And tomorrow you shall on your way to glory!

Don't worry,don't you worry,my friend,
The bold are gone but it's not the end.
History is made,but mystery lies much in your tarry.
In the begginning it's all a blur and it's so scary,

Light is not shed in the tunnel
And easy pathways,only lead to hell!
Don't worry,pity is in your eyes.
Don't worry,my friend,stand and rise!
One of the few poem by Lesiba without the letter 'I' included.
Enjoy!
566 · Dec 2016
Once upon a time
I wrote my heart across the sky,
But it faded with the blue.
I wrote my heart on the clouds,
They poured down with it.
When I wrote it on land
It went wild with the wind!
So I decided to live it
But no one could believe it,
The beggar by the street couldn't have it
And the farmer couldn't preserve it.
Nothing seemed to work.

I was out of luck!

Till I saw a blank page
And dirtied it with the ink of rage.
Then it stayed fixed for years
Until the people read,
Read it out loud to the skies
So everyone on land could hear.
It rained on everyone's ear,
The people on the street were wet with a tear!
The eloquent breeze of trees held it high
And it stick to their heads like glue.
Where it came from they had not a clue!
Wrote this along the lines of August and September. Don't ask me what I was trying to do,I guess I was proving it to myself that I can write free-verse poetry.
548 · Dec 2016
Untitled
Give me your heart
And stay in my hut,
And by earth's oceans I promise:
We shall be happy in our poor times
And more richer in our fortunate primes.

I'll stay with you,if you stay with me,
And as you are mine,I'll set you free!
When your heartbeats sound begins to cease,
Our marriage bond will be much stronger
And through Death's window,our love lasts longer!

When the roads get dark
And you can no longer smile or lark,
And rosy cheeks aren't as pleasant as this;
Because you chose my heart,
Your carriage I'll never depart.

And when sunny days ensue,
And I have sticked to you like glue,
Would it be enough for you a bliss
To spark the truth out of our love
And give me your all even as we starve?
Notice the deeper rhyme? All the third lines in each stanza rhyme. Please give credit to the composer when sharing.
503 · Jan 2017
So he buried his life.
He buried his life in a pile of books,
And blinded himself from dainty looks.
He buried his life in many educations,
Absented himself from youthful occations.

His aquaintances called him folly,
As on soothing nights they got jolly.
His closest friends carried the burden with him,
As his chances of love grew dim.

In those soothing nights,with the book,
All his lifetime he took
Trying to figure out the puzzle of life,
But then the answer was worth more than life!
Feel free to inbox me if you don't get the poem.

Thanks to the eleven people who rushed to follow my account. You make my life a whole lot easier.
479 · Mar 2017
Pride
My pride is as vast as the ocean,
It's boldness carries no caution.
My pride is as vast as the sea,
From truthful horizons it does flee!

I do not need this much pride
But it never leaves my side.
It's making me stray into the dark,
Closing in as I run out of luck.

My pride is a blaze of guns,
A masterful magician doing his stunts!
Welling up the dust in its void,
Till everything has been destroyed!

In its clothing I'm always defeated,
In this game I'm always outwitTed.
I don't need to fall into this trap again,
Getting out will be such a strain!
412 · Dec 2016
A true soldier says:
The battle is won,
Most of my people are gone,
But the war goes on!
I knw I **** at haikus,but I rocked this one.

Note: this is not to encourage war/violence. the meaning of the poem is figurative
384 · Jan 2017
Elegy of the old me
How perfect is he?
He that was once then,now is gone,
He that was once there,disappears
Into the mist of the horizon.

Crucified in the name of change,
His anatomy turns blue and strange.
His colours slowly fade away.
Washed out like the filter on the shore,
Of his innocence we shall hear no more.

Who is he that brims on the past rivers?
In twinkling stars  of the night he shivers.
His truth is hidden in the dark of a new age,
His mystery is covered by the birth of rage.

How this story ends
Is the beginning of another dimension,
Altered and twisted by rash decisions.
When this ones story is born,
We all wish for yesterday to come back
And die to stop the morrow's drum.
Haha,I can also write free verse poetry,well I try.
344 · Mar 2017
Untitled
It's difficult to decipher one's convictions
By just a mere look at their appearance.

— The End —