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brian odongo Mar 2018
Love is a beautiful seed
growing in a field of weeds
Love is a rose in a garden of thorns
Its pickers  endure ****** and scorns
Love blossoms hope in all seasons
Though sometimes fear  give reasons
Love is a plant that forever grows
Even in pitch darkness it glows
A rose crushed produces a sweet balm
Love tested is like a well written psalm
A plant  flourishes  in a fertile farm
Our hearts is the soil where love work its charm
poetry is far more beautiful than prose
So let's our love endure forever unlike a rose
brian odongo Feb 2018
We lit a flame in an opaque  world
Not from wood but from a  candle
For woods sparkles bright
But produce ashes that cause blight
But candles melts to produces a stronger wax
Such is our flame burning to only reproduce a greater love
We lit a flame that first set our hearts on fire
And the fire spreads and then put our whole soul a blaze
Our flame is not shaken by violent winds
But it sways side by side dancing even to its violent  rhythms
Hand in hand ,heart in heart we lit a flame
A flame that does not burn down but builds up
A flame that that light our own souls and other souls too
For such is a candle it burns not for its own sake
  Jan 2018 brian odongo
deliriumattic
mediocre and
faded
the average poem
no longer strikes chords
in the heart's harp
use extravagant vocabulary
weave your words tight
until they seem uncomfortable
the original meaning lost
between the claustrophobic corners
covered in lace and pretentious boasting
try but don't try so hard
that no one but the classic readers
would be able to understand
the words you've worked so hard to convey
do not force a poem out
or it will stick your fingers and
it will create a mess
similar to a teenage boy
it will be long and uncomfortable with itself
unknowing of how to adjust
into this thing that is supposed to be
mature now despite wanting to be simple
do not rush poetry
find quiet inspiration
in silent observations
of yourself, of nature
rushing poetry makes it fast
too many unfilled thoughts
racing around in one space
not meeting each other
despite being so close together
tell a story with imagery
with delicate words of morality
tell a story with flashbacks
with soft lips and with stained shirts
tell a story with love
make your poems with care
brian odongo Jan 2018
A tale of love
Brian Odongo.

Countable times in history
Two separate lives become one story
Such as was between Jacob and Rachel
A tale more beautiful than a fable

A tale not as a result of fate
But a plan in divine date
A tale of two hearts
That cannot be torn to parts

Even by ink it can only be faintly described
But in their hearts it is masterfully inscribed
A tale that lives for generations
And defies all common expectations

Such is my tale with this fair Lady
Fairest than the beautiful daisy
The only beloved daughter of her father
And the joy of the family when they gather

She is of rare charm and mind
“A virtuous woman who can find? "
Her heart is most pure
Her smile every pain cure

Seasons before us seem so long
But each day will be filled with a love song
Then all the rounds and bends of time
Will be far much worth than countless dimes

Not every step forward will be simple
But happenstances will not our love dwindle
For our tale of love  is not just a normal  ritual
But this tale that we coauthor is forever habitual

And if life be long and youth turn to old age
We will make more beautiful every page
And this by divine grace shall be our tale
That even time will not turn stale
brian odongo May 2017
THE MUSIC OF THE STARS

Today the night sky shines bright
As though to mock the moon
That each eventide arises
Taking the mantle from the sun
All united in an assignment
To light the way for earthly treaders
The radiant stars endlessly move
Age to age whispering its great adventures
Tis music of the stars
Singing of the past,present and future
Singing of a long past left in traces of unwritten history
Singing of the presence experienced by the audience
Singing of a future concelead to mortal eyes
Tis the music of the stars

The inaudible lyrics of the stars
That need no lute nor lyre
To sooth the listeners' heart
The grace of the 'heavenly singers'
Like a spell enchants the audience
Its glory inspires the astronomer
Its music moves the poets hand
Tis the music of the stars
Singing to the 'deaf' mortal
Singing how like a porcelain his life is brittle
Singing how his life is brief at its best
Tis the music of the stars

The music of the stars :
Tis a melody that wanes
Like a script come to an end
Tis a rhythm that diminishes
The beats slowed by the dawning day
Tis a harmony that disaccords
Like a string broken from the harp
Tis the music of the stars
Singing comfort to the lonely seafarer
Singing hope to the night pilgrim
Singing praises to the night watcher
The 'night singers' leave the stage
The morning stars echoes the refrain
Tis the music of the stars.
Inspiration gotten from being at night on a country side
brian odongo Dec 2016
On new year eve when the sun on the west hung low
And the east wind on dead leaves blow
I paced to the yellow woods
And sat on my favourite wood
Where not long after I fell into a trance
Not of any divine trace
But a dream from my person
And I saw a vision backwards:
365 days ago, not long ago
I was on the same spot
For the familiar new year ritual
That of writing my aspirations
My fickle fingers wrote my dreams on the hard earth
On the passing sands of time
But no traces of them was left
Perchance carried by the furious wind
To the store house of wasted words
I continued in the vision backwards
When I heard a voice from me saying
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart "
I woke from my short trance
When the crimson moon was awake above
And the night owl hooting echoed through the woods
Left the woods without performing my ritual
Because i heard a vision backwards
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart."
  Dec 2016 brian odongo
Mike Essig
βλέπω*

Hope flickers in gathering darkness.
War, sickness, death, poverty, loss:
we must suffer them all again.
The dark heart of being
wears the weary soul.
The common world of pain,
a place we all know best.
Yet even as night falls,
a new morning of light beckons.
Hope flickers but does not falter.
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