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The End of the Beginning The switch from a king bed to a twinHurts more than the passage through adolescenceIn its icy confirmationOf a love frosted over. Can’t shake the habit of folding two pillowcasesAnd reaching for her shoulder in the middle of the night,Enduring the five stages of grief:Denial, Denial, Denial, Denial, Denial.…
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The Breeze by My Wings I vent way downInto the pit of my glottisVying for the vibrancyOf a sweet-sounding pealChiming its way to the top. It ripples the air fast asThe gurgling of waterOn its way to the river,Then changes to swishingOf leaves on a gusty bright day. I swing my wingsClimbing high above…
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My House Is not a Home “When you getto your mothertell her how longit took youto find home”. – PilgrimageBy Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau I carry my father’s name aroundAs I bear another man’s portrait.The truth is a stranger, it onlyBreaks from anger. I’m five times my mother’s prayer requestThan an answer.That is to say,…
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FOR FATHER, FOR THRENODY father, the day you closed your eyes and refused to open it, i felt my bones crushed into pulps, i was silent like the lifelessness in you.i tried finding it in that painting, the one you hung in your room/ in this poem/ in the bottles i drank/ in cigarettes…
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Nature’s Love. The Tree said to the Sea;you are one of a kindyou shower so much care on mankindyou provide splendid seafood from yourbelly—fishes, crabs, lobsters & jelly! The Sea smiled gently and said;you see, my dear Tree,what can man do without thee?you gulp down carbon dioxideand bless them with oxygenso that they may…
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In my previous poem I was a boy & yet again, like a seamster,I want to weave my past into my present. O Lord, help release a butterfly from thisnetwork of webs; I want to savour every blossoming petal in this garden & not feela thorn in my wings. I want to lie at…
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Come… let us poem it out – I One could begin with the present andSay “the beginning of this poem is lostLike the knowledge of God’s beginning”What matters is the message to be meltedLike rubber– smooching fire, into theEar of he who needs to hear the news.If this poem was in stanzas, the firstCould…
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Therapy for Dark Torsos i grew up to be sieged by the nothingness of mind.like a spiegeleisen,it takes multitudes of dust to submerge a homo sapiens to the farthest micron. the least time passes the eyebrow & i watch Morpheusdupe my grounds like a scammer. in order not to plumage my body with doomi…
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Self Portrait at 19 it’s 5:00 in the morning. I tiptoe towardsthe room’s oldest mirror in my birthdaysuit, examining what parts of my father’ssilhouette I have carried into myself. Ithrow my body into several equations,solving for the closest i would equal toa rooster. & this poem? a rough sheet saying [ ]1I have grown…