By
Onawale Femi Simeon
THE PAINTER’S HAND
The hand of the painter, moving here and there
Giving the paper a new destiny to bear
The ink enfolds the paper with loving care
Its perfection holds the eye in long stare
It speaks of what is: a reality
It tells tales of that which cannot be: a miracle
Tales which might never be till eternity
That reach the soul without obstacle
A work of Art that rolls drops of love down our eyes
That moulds the face to a smile, to shine with our teeth
And grips the heart to a tighten, to let out a sigh
Setting free that long lock away, and Our being starts to breathe.
LIFE FOR RENT
My life is just for rent
For nothing of mine is truly mine
For it is on a mission I am sent
And while I have the time, i’ll save my nine
For truly my life is just for rent
It is not mine, but the porter’s thine
Only to him, will my head be bent
Strict adherence to his will, all will be fine
I was created with a genuine intent
And I shall live to its full reality
The porter’s power abides with me I shall not relent
For it is in this lies my eternal serenity
Daily do I arise leaving my tent
Smitten by the sun, cold in the rain
I shall bear even the worse of hell’s torment
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