If eyes are windows
to the heart and soul
an inkling of what
lies beneath the skin

Then thank goodness
for locks that veil a face
and hide in waves
what lies within

If eyes are windows
to the heart and soul
then welcome shades
dark or rose tinged

A screen between the I
and the world at day
where none can see
the core within

If eyes are windows
to the heart and soul
a glimpse into fears, tears,
when a heart cries

Then thank goodness
it takes but a moment
to draw down lashes
and close the eyes

Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..

If I hadn't fallen in love
I would have not known
that stars could dance in the eyes
That the moon could whisk me away
That the sun could live in the heart
and warm it and fill it with light
That clouds could shower kisses
And rain could touch like a lover
That the scent of flowers
could linger through the night
That the winds could play love melodies
That sunrises could colour a blush
And sunsets stir romance
That dreams could glisten at dawn
like drops of dew

I would have not known the magic
that is love
If I hadn't fallen in love
With you

These serene days,
Where blue is the wind's muse
And Red the sea's Fume
Where white covers the skies
And grey, separates the cloud from the sky
These days of rushing hours,
Where Men are saddened from thoughs of yore
And children starving from pains of now

In these solemn days
And harsh nights
I will take my chances
And stand
Stand for what is right
In these days of colors

*Ovi Odiete©

Sun flickered 'pon your eyes
    scintillating as the seas,
dappled with the chemistry
   of a thousand swooning moons

Poetry has a sensitive soul
A drive and impulse
Telling stories the way they are
Feelings of soberness
A heart felt word

Poetry has a sensitive heart
Beautifully immense
A heart of gold
Giving values to life
Adding years to life: Poetry is beautiful

Poetry has a sensitive soul
Like streams that meanders slowly
Like a river glorious: It Flows
Poetry has a sensitive heart,
A beautiful soul; A flying Angel.

Poetry is the signal
that
The soul sends into the world
Like the river, it flows into the sea,
yet the sea never gets filled.

Poetry is the fluid for the soul,
The liquid for the yearning of the Mind
That which quenches the fire
Feeding the deepest desires
Poetry is Gold in essence

Ovi Odiete©