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  Apr 2019 skye
Emeka Mokeme
There is poetry
in nature.
The way you
breath is poetry.
Meandering of the
river is poetry.
There's poetry
in rainfall.
The songs of
the wind is poetry.
The harsh anger
of the cyclone
is poetry.
There's poetry in
a child's laughter.
The piecing eyes
and the toothless
grin of a
child and the
elderly is poetry.
Poetry is written
everywhere,
even in glistering
star in the
galaxy.
Beauty is poetry,
and the ugliness
of discarded things
are poetry too.
There's poetry
hidden everywhere
you look.
The art of
cooking is poetry.
The heart expresses
itself in poetry.
Love is poetry.
Life itself is
poetry written in
the sand of time.
There's poetry
everywhere and in
everything,
if only you
can look.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
  Apr 2019 skye
Sharmila Juliet
She is a poem of his heart
He never disclosed
In front of anyone.
In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.
  Apr 2019 skye
enid jerzt looper
“I dont know”
was my response
when you asked me if
I still love you

the world stopped
for the both of us
as I wondered on the thought
of me, being selfish
or being true
and yours upon the
realization that
maybe, just maybe
my love for you
is fleeting

neither of us was speaking
and the silence echoed
through the depths of my head
and you uttered
‘oh’

that moment, I knew
that you gave up
on me, and my inner
indecisiveness

I crumbled upon
the guilt of telling you
those words, so instead
I let my tongue do
the talking and said
'maybe'

cause it was never hard to say

but it is always hard to face

the reality of being responsible
to someone

as if I have to breathe
through somebody’s pair of lungs
and scratch the loneliness
with someone else’s fingers

we parted
I changed numbers

cause I had to stay afloat
on the clouds of solitude
free from attachments.
  Apr 2019 skye
be-no-one
it wasn't until the sun rose
that I realized
just how much
I was in love with the moon
  Apr 2019 skye
Poetress2
Within these lonely walls of mine,
sometimes I wish that I could die;
I curl up in my Mickey Mouse sheets,
and quickly pretend, that I'm asleep.
~
Just like the nights I've faced before,
I hear them open up my door;
They quietly lay down in my bed,
and I truly wish that I were dead.
~
I push their hands down, everytime,
but to no avail, they begin to rise;
The shame and guilt seems all too real,
for that is almost all I feel.
~
They leave me torn,
they leave me shamed;
They leave me damaged,
yet it's me I blame.
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