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 May 2014
Shailesh Otari
Feared by unenlightened mind
death is seen as an act unkind,
in ignorance lies the truth
of death’s beautiful design.

What is called the end of life
Is merely a severing knife
Dis-joining one’s worldly crawl
From a blissful abode divine.

Death is truly opening of door
To release a bird caged before
Freeing its soul to fly away
Into the permanence of time.
May 29, 2014
 May 2014
Raphael Uzor
Round tables      and cocktails
Cuisines and   Champagne
Candles and moonlight
Whispers and laughter
Tuxedos and dresses
Flowers and kisses
Jazz and piano
You and I*



© Raphael Uzor
 May 2014
Raphael Uzor
“You are the leaders of tomorrow”
They told us over and over
Right from the tender age of three
Through childhood and adolescence.
We have outgrown our youth
We are now mature men
We have come of age to lead
Just as promised decades ago.

At a recent gathering
Our *leaders of yesterday

Stricken with age and power
And long overdue for retirement
Addressed us, saying,
“Bla bla bla, bla bla, bla bla bla…”
“You are the leaders of tomorrow”*
That last statement jolted me awake
From his uninspiring, boring speech.

Then it dawned on me
We are a sleeping generation
We have long been waiting- sleeping!
When we should be leading
Our greedy, power-drunk leaders,
Will die in active service!
They will NOT hand over to us!
Not if we sit and wait for them.

I had a *revelation
that the “tomorrow”,
We were promised “yesterday”
Is fast becoming yesterday, today!
And while the Nigerian youth sleeps
His chance is being usurped by his fathers
Yesterday we heard this promise
Today we hear the same promise
But come tomorrow, we will be too old to lead
And our children’s turn, it will be.

We have been scammed of our future
By the very ones we entrusted them with
And like turns in a game of scrabble,
We have missed ours- forever!
Our leaders are old men
Who have no faith in youths
And come tomorrow, our children,
Will have graves to look up to

Because we would have no experience
From which to advise them…
And like an unwanted track on a CD
Our generation would have been skipped
By the geriatric push of a ⇒ button!


© Raphael Uzor
A practical instance of "tomorrow never dies"
I have no words for so many things.

when god's brush slips from his hand
his colors splatter over the sky
the joy it brings in an autumn morn
as swims gaily white rafts on blue ocean
I find no words

for then my emotions
leave me for the kingdom of mountains
of many shapes and faces
landing only when
the sweet waft of jasmine
reminds of the anchor on this shore
where my root drinks soil's nectar
when filled to the brim
rests in melancholic dream
under homing bird sky
for a home
away from this home!
Summer's additions
can no longer cope
with my winter's deductions!
Poetry starts and ends with me
it's as far as it should go
between me and me
unshackled free
tilling the mind
shoveling the dirt
all mine
each part of it
bitter sweet
poem's words
even if unlettered unstructured
lacking grace finesse
all mine
I own them
each line
to save me
my self
never writing with the worry
out there is a jury
reading analyzing
liking disliking
but me
and me
knowing that's the length it travels
between me and me
and that's enough of a journey
for my poetry.
I bow to Poet Stephen E Yocum who has inspired this write.
"It was written and intended all for me, from the beginning.
Which is what all writer's and poets should always do,
write for themselves not a Jury. There is a real freedom in that."
Stephen E Yocum
This great poet is a must read.
 May 2014
Chloé
Yet we are all different and still so simillar
 May 2014
Chloé
A poet finds peace in his poems
A poet finds a escape of the hurt in his poems
A poet is often lonely
A poet talks to his poems
 May 2014
Chloé
so
so they want you to tell everything about your problems and in the end they dont understand you not becaucse they cant no no because they dont want to they dont want to understand your sadness your anger they dont want to understand you ..
 May 2014
Chloé
How do you help somebody who doesn't want help..
But screams without voice for help
 May 2014
L
10w
Your love
is a gift
I am not worthy of.
Another for R.
I miss my love.

**
Leigh
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