Poetry

October 15, 2015 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

abstract-painting-with-many-collors

By

Ogunniyi Abayomi

 

 

OUR MOMENT, OUR TIME, OUR HARVEST

 

 

Now the time is ripe for the day
to fight for the land our night
ever toiled,
The time to reap the fruits your
seeds planted beneath the soil
of existence.

 

To stand on our hills,
to see across the borders,
telling the vision beyond trees and
branches of the forest.

 

The birds in the air singing for the
freedom of slaves,
The clouds bear witness to the pain
and torture beneath the foot and
sole of hardship.

 

Our miles are walking dreams in the
distance of nightmares
crying to the clarity of our shadows,
the air of sadness painted by the
clustered deceit of brothers.

 

Our trees are stripped of their roots,
our flowers are crushed by feet of
exploitation.
Our morning are crying,
Our tears are weary to the sore and
misery of the night.

 

Our river are searching for water
amid the drought,
Lake drowning to the mud of
uncertainty swimming on the shore
of no belief.

 

One day roots would fight for his
identity,
the tree would locate their position
in the forest.

 

Our soil would save its grass by the
gray of dust,
Lifting up the leaves by the wealth of
their branches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SCARS

 

 

Stories of the unseen,

cast of time and shade

at the veil of reality.

Clustered dreams of

the mind,

clues of shambled

answers by the breed

of misery and

deceit.

 

 

Scary race by the

nightmare of uncertainty,

questions driven by the

air of time at hills and

nature of reality.

 

 

Beneath the blues of

comfort,

stripes and blisters at

the shades and flow

of survival.

 

 

Twist of tongues by the

crowded spaces of

confusion,

prison to the truth and

reality of our mind by

the shackles of

deceit.

 

 

brutal is the healing of our

hearts

from the bruises of our

depression.

 

 

crying soul of thirst amid the

blissful water of the ocean,

calculating the feet of ages

at the driven line of reality.

 

 

Twist of the air,

bitter tears of the eyes at

the clouded adventure and

dew of the season.

 

 

lost are the words of thy

head;

moving to the solitude of

time,

by the realms of seconds

drilling the air of decision

by the grease of the heart.

 

 

Dangerous are the word of

thy feet in the face of

adversaries,

your steps and move of

belief by the growing seeds

of  your faith.

 

 

 

 

 

 

FB_20150707_18_30_07_Saved_Picture

Ogunniyi Abayomi

I was born in 1991 in the city of Lagos, Nigeria where I today reside. My love for poetry is very strong whereby I consider it a page of my life. I am aspiring to create positive values as a poet to my world.

0 Comments

No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply