Poetry is like painting,
the way artists gives life to a blank canvas,
beautifying the world with colours.
Is the same way writers give life to a blank page,
making the world beautiful with words.

this silence between us,
is like an egg,
the answers we seek is inside,
but we're just too scared to break it.

hiding in the dark
a retreat to solitude
the trees hold my hand

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

Not too long ago
When I was broken and forlorn of love
My heart yearned for no lady but one
A lady with whom I have seen no equal
One with whom my heart is at peace I stretched out hands of love to her
To my surprise and Joy
She reached out to take my hands
O what a joy inexplicable that I felt
With Milady Oroma Princess Albert I am content
For as a lilly is amongst thorns
So is Milady amongst Ladies
I love u Milady my Pride.
Together Forever, Nothing between

Happy Love Anniversary to us

Once again I hail Milady Princeeroma
The one in whom is filled much Effizy
Yet shez not lazy
Among all women shez the best lady
At her beauty i will ever go crazy
For her love am ever ready.
With her am willing to write my story
As God takes me from glory to glory
Milady, your smile sets my soul ablaze, and your voice carries like song
You lift me up from feeling down when every thing goes wrong
You complete my puzzle and were the piece I could not find
But now together with you in life I can not get you off my mind
You are MY WORLD BEST.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WORLD BEST