#poetrymonth
I had a dream
I was lost in the desert
I saw your face within the sand dunes
I ran to you, carrying my sorrow
Hope was filling my bones
Tears were watering the drought of my emotions
I was standing beside you
But you were a mirage
And I was all alone once again
That’s when my eyes started to hit my cheeks with guilt
My depth burnt with the words you blazed
Blaming me wasn’t enough
So you woke up my trauma
Now I'm living with that fear
Of losing my hope someday
Even though it’s already gone
So far away
Still I need to hear your soul
Tell me you crave for my love
Say you do
Tell me you care, clamor it loudly to the crowd
Look me in the eye
Say you need me closer
Tell me we won’t die
And when it gets harder
We’ll make it easier
Please tell me why my heart’s still invisible
You walked nearby
It called you, you didn’t hear
So it cuddled you, but you couldn’t feel
Rashly, you pushed it, it fell
You crushed it, you didn’t even notice
You kept moving and it didn’t dare to grumble
Was it a dream or I’m denying this reality
My love, is it true
I heard that you came across your euphoria
Somehow you got helped
You got what you deserve
Those emotions I couldn’t serve
When you were crawling apart
Now I'm feeling so numb
My soul is nowhere to be found
I'm chasing your shadow
But it keeps fluttering into the wild murky yonder
I need your light in the night
To rewind those memories we’ve made
When our hearts were hard to separate
Because darling, I don’t plan to live forever
If we aren’t graying together
And if missing you is a felony
Then I declare myself a perfect sinner
For loving you with hunger
Waiting for you on fire
Knowing that you will never come back to my cavern
Where I’m mummified with guilt and so much regret
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 2:19 PM UTC
In a decades,
beautiful thoughts scattered in
my mind
Dark shadows from the past
hits me so hard
How embarrassed I was
to what I did
I'm ashamed to the words
I write
In the last poem I made.
Shakespeare says,
"What past is prologue."
But how should I start?
Knowing the past,
gives me sadness and grief
As I try to write,
I can't play any single word
And will stagger many times.
The reason,
I give up to write
I'm overwhelmed by
a melancolic ache
I know, you know,
Emotional pain is hard
to dwell
You couldn't find any strenght
to sail back again.
When I look at to the milkyway
Myself console me,
and told me that it's time to go
back and reset everything
No matter how much it cost,
Let the beautiful thoughts
be whole again.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 2:41 PM UTC
Midnight.
Getting into incredible scenes as the southern US dreams
The color of your soul
Where unshackled, dancing spirits take control
Feet contact to terra firma via tactical movements painting its target
You attack, artistically
I resist no longer
Upon your canvas
I fall
Rome
Where (apparently) all roads lead to
Your heart, the coronary Colosseum.
A stronghold I yearn to hold tight
Under the roar of the crowd
And the loudness of your beats
Harmony
There are psalms that Cadillacs crank
Your viscous soul
At the seat of this purple drank think tank
Sticking to my ribs like backyard barbecue
Santoor mallets tapping my heartstrings
Doing 10 in a 65, side-to-side
Front, back
Letting the melodies ride and glide
Air
Whatever words you'd utter, I'd usurp its presence within the second it leaves your lips.
Floating on cloud 9
To catch your breath with my fingertips
Kinda like I want our lungs to be in a relationship
Or something close to enjoying the heights
Then record our previous accords just before
Midnight.
Ifeanyi N. Okoro II - © 2018
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 5:52 AM UTC
The minutia of cotton fledglings, I play them over and over
In my head, the most enjoyable, a layer of dynasty added to
The mallard kingdom. And a rocking horse swims across
Each pond too, its head heaves and nags creating massive, huge,
Undulating circles around circles. One more coat of gesso and then
Even I, in my speckled red paint Commune jeans, and holy holy Protestant tee shirt, I can travel the world; maybe even brush up on my
Cuyp.
Whipping through the sedge-brook grass, busting out, shooting Through the other mucilaginous nimbuses rolling
Outward first, then fled upward into the beacons of the heavens-
Shouting, whistling, oozing albicant heraldic pillars and shields.
Twenty more colours to mix.
Together, the mallards and ewes and rocking horse, and I;
prancing, little dots, filing into order. Where nursing
Against the sunken pillows of grain, I enter each round of
This papyrus jungle. Neatly folding my hands around each
Milky white shade, rushing out into the aurulent sunglow. .
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC