"affined" poems
*clouds of words
from places diverse
come floating to the sky, soaking my heavy mind
they are unconnected and meaningless
stray birds wingless
kept in cage of isolation, no relation to find
when brought together
held close by a tether
they mix up to join, combine and bind
then in a pattern they flow
rise high, fall low
dancing with passion, in a rhythmic fashion aligned
a story they tell
in my thoughts that does dwell
feelings get expression, sincere confession, to soul they're affined
not seeking perfection
but creativity and introspection
my humble quill, tries to spill, colors of several kind
my flawed verse is terse
in emotions it's immersed
it portrays a view, connects with you, as my heart unwinds*
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Cold, cold floors press
against the soles of my feet,
as I roll out of bed
still affined to my sleep.
While my eyes remain low
and quite dauntingly heavy,
my hands moving slow
part them ever so stiffly.
Then, before me a speech,
spoken only in vision,
brings tears to mine eyes
by its glorious image.
Alive yet again,
the sight gives me relief,
for the glorious sun
shan't deliver disbelief.
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 2:58 PM UTC
.
Oh! wicked vicious blindness,
pleasant part of darkness,
Softly called sightlessness.
Your symbol is blackness,
Oh! wicked blindness.
.
Bearing the least resemblance of white,
Stagger and stumble becomes ultimate,
Best friend turns to be the dark night,
Lightlessness's the only thing you await.
Oh! wicked blindness.
.
The very moment they become blind,
Then, sight declined, death affined.
they begin to see the never seen,
For them, the seeings go no theme.
Oh! wicked blindness.
.
My only saviour is the Ear,
No ground for delight in ******
why?. Sorrow is all I hear,
In both physical and spiritual.
Oh! wicked blindness.
.
Hello! To all the sightless fellow,
Known and Unknown in sorrow.
With you, I do feel the pain,
With Maker, we'll break the chain.
And the lightning sight, we'll regain.
.
To hell with the wicked, vicious Blindness..
.
Okoye Chikamso (Mr_Focus)
.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
Again this dusk
I shalt abrook,
Mind million
Thoughts building,
None to listen; I'll
Hear the echoes
Across the ceilings.
I'll acknow the t.v
Screen, picture
Bright pupils dance,
Jotting word's of needing cuddling of poetic romance. Giveth me acquittance O' heavenly father, of these late-night ramblings I'd trade for a flower. To
Sit next to a fool as I, how tonight is
No different from the morrow,
affined to the dingy, as a
Prisoner confined.
©Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC