Life's Routes
I From the sages of my tribe, I've heard tales of "kini omode mo " And as a child, i toyed with life like stacks of strings, My fingerprints made on its plank, Like land mark of the giants. II From my clan, "make hays while the sun shines" As a grown man i pulled and pushed on, Pursued life like it's my last breath, No sight i got, not even the odd, Just for lines to emerge from my pen. III Not even the sound of its tunes, Or the pitch of its melody, Nor the lyrics of its poetry, That life was ready to part with, Making all deafened like ears sealed with mortical wools. IV But from the "morals of the prodigal," I will pick the cracked shells again in its pieces, To cover my scars even while I'm scarred, To be fearless even in my fearful lines, Paying heed to every sounds in the realm of its whispers. V To dance to the beat in the tunes, Rocking my path to the gate of peace, Not as a wanderer but as a poet, With ink-filled influx of creativity. . Thomas Oluwatosin © Fearless Lines
2021-08-04 08:41:42
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Why?
I was alone. I am alone. I will be alone. But why People always lie? I can't hear it Every time! And then They try to come Back. And i Don't understand it. Why?
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وردةٌ قبِيحة
و مَا الّذي يجعلُ مصطلحُ الوردة قبِيحة؟ -مَا الّذي تنتظرهُ من وردةٍ واجهت ريَاح عاتية ؛ وتُربة قَاحلة و بتلَاتٍ منهَا قَد ترَاخت أرضًا ، مَا الّذي ستصبحهُ برأيك؟
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