Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
When I was a little child, I looked at stars often
I liked the way they shone.
Daddy taught me that, a group of stars is called a constellation.
But I had but one star
and it shone in the East
day and night.
My mother told me that,
whenever I felt lost
I should look up into the sky, at my star, and it would
guide me home.
But my star died, and its shine was gone
I felt lost, for a long, long time.

When I grew up, I had but two stars.
I found them one day when you set your eyes on me
and I never understood why I felt childlike,
whenever I was with you.
Little did I know that, it was your eyes.
The way they shinned, like my star
so bright.
Whenever I felt lost
I just looked into your eyes
and always they would guide me home.
But no matter how bright they shinned,
your eyes never died,
and soon enough I had three stars,
the other was …
you.

As we grew older, I had seven stars
But I needed them not to find my way home,
because they became our home.
And the other four, shone just like you
like your eyes.
And I watched them grow, day and night
year after year
and you made them grow
and you made me grow
into a shinning star
your shinning star.
I wrote this whilst listening to a song by Emeli Sande
There are times when you can just look up into the night,
and smile.
And you wonder…
Whether a big bang could be powerful enough
to produce this whole beautiful sequence of events?
Where everything has its place
and the sun sets as the moon rises
and water flows downhill
and seasons come and go as they please
without misplacing a step.

There’s so much that science does not yet know.
So much that the scientist cannot explain.
Simple things, like a cool summer breeze and
the green of the leaves.
But Isaac is persistent, I know.
So is Thomas and Albert.
So whilst I wait for the scientist to come forth and tell me
that all I’d previously believed in is a farce.
Let me just look up into the night…
and smile.
Wierdly inspired by Monument Valley and a certain coldplay song.
Nobody can know everything, only God can,
Yet the same God asked Adam where he hid.
But that’s none of my business,
Because everything happens for a reason.

And babies cry for a reason,
And seasons come and go, for a reason.
I love Carlos for a reason,
and he’s dad died in my father’s arms...
for a reason.

Everything we do has consequence, intentional or not.
Good or bad.
And everything we experience comes with a lesson
Because experience is the best teacher.

Nobody calls you when they have everything,
Unless of course you are a part of that everything.
And almost everything is noise,
So whatever is important…love, friendship, family,
happiness.
Should be kept sacred.

Everybody is somebody’s everything,
Nobody is nothing.
And everything that I write,
Is either for or about…
Us
Because I love you so.

But of course, nothing gives me joy
Like good poetry
Because when all falls down
Writing is…
my Everything.
I know stronger men have come before me, but you know that i got you.
My desire for you is strong
My heart beats for your heart,
Like drums of war.
I'm at war, for you.
I'll fight for you, for us
I got you.

I know i no get Range Rover, but you know that i got you.
No amount of cows could carve leather as soft as my touch
My kiss
My feelings.
No amount of massage seats will ever come close to the sensation
Of my finger prints stained all over your body
like a crime scene.

I know
That i don't wear designer
But you know i got you.
The design of my heart is pure
My love for your soul is top grain.
it's hand stitched by the angels themselves.
The universe conspired, the stars aligned.
You're free my dear, to search far and wide
but you'll never find quality like this.

I got you.
When i discovered that Yemi Alade was actually good.
My ancestors ran
Thats why I'm not American, or British, or Jamaican.
it's because, they ran.
Away from the slave traders
away from the greedy chiefs who clinged glass with the slave traders.
They ran...
That's why I'm sitting on hard bench with no money and wallet
That's why i will go home after writing this poem to no electricity
and no water
and no polony.

My ancestors ran,
that's why I'm a coward and I'm alive today.
Because great great great grandfather slept in a cave instead of die in a slaveship.
Great Great great grandfather would have won the marathon.
Great great great grandfather is a hero
because he ran.

— The End —