The fountain Arena

Betty Bouncer   Hip the top of hoof All that was heard was school No will of hope to laugh Call them that see and dwell Here is her old lady today So sleek and frenzy she gaze Of winter tone and grass No forty wrinkled her face She called me her nephew  On that name of Birth from different sun  Still shines on same soil I hid my name  Far from the reach of lids  Far from the blazing fire  Far from man's knowledge  She sought the pen of fame And call her sight to seek  The stolen joy of name  And formal stage alike  Then my memory lost the sight  Of Betty fist and all I gave the scroll away  And met the Forte of life Frenzy was her gaze  Docile and prudent that says Until the first eve  I made that call  And the old lady be no more.  

Christ paid a sacrifice on the cross of calvary, this day, many years ago that the world might be free from the shackles of sin. He was betrayed, rejected and abandoned just so that our victory might be won. He has finished it. Thus, the poetry celebrates and mourn with the burden of his death . Crucified Saint   Slowly, he marched to the grave  With bangles of Shames  Burden of thorns  Stripes of wound, and tears, In the chants of a crucifix Unknown born of lonely virgin Seeking to fulfill that last course  A mission assigns to the condemned Faceless and unrecoverable sinner. Cross too large to be held, Heavy and strongs that drags. Yet, he kept on strolling; "Keep going" is what he says, The work is yet to be over  Uncalled priest chosen on choice, With total conformation, he's made. "Mother, behold thy child," This lost child has lost his identity. Condemned by one who made all, Yet, he seeks, "child, behold thy mother " Read Alone by Maya Angelou 

- About the author- Marguerite Ann Johnson AkA Maya Angelou is a resound literary personnel. She is a Grammy winner, literary scholar, writer of many spoken words, poems, novel and she is an actress. Her, works are sources of inspiration to all ages of the world. Her works are rich in genuine outpouring of rage, courage in oneself, power in unity and pride of womanhood. Alone   Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don't believe I'm wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. There are some millionaires With money they can't use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They've got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Now if you listen closely I&

This poetry is dedicated to all the women in the world. It speaks of their strength, beauty and will power. A heroine Woman, a definition of strength  Filled with great ecstacy Minted in dynasty of power. Her will are quirky! Quick to love, quick to anger. Mother of faith,  Powerhouse of kindness. Her toils, Her joys,   Her tears, Her smiles,  Her...beauty... Woman, a creation heritage. Warrior in heart: Virtuous beyond doubt, Relic of hope, fortitude of life. Her prints are carved to schlep The primitive growth  of the world she bore. Woman, an invaluable piece! Pristine in all form League of caregiver  Luminary of destiny wrights. Woman, On her soft lips are susceptible stream. Woman, Her special curve are her strength. Woman, Her prayers are the season's fortune. Woman, Her complexion is a breds brave heart,  Woman,  Her souls speaks of a privy knowledge into man's world. Woman, In her heart are crystal jewel.

  Enoch Is an inspiring journey poetry presenting  an unavoidable situations that follows a man whose heart is solidifies on  God. Stroll through the poetry with poet personal as he unveiled the mystery surrounding Enoch. Enoch Here is the man of tongues Who speaks in enigmatic  Speech that reigns in heart  Trending the uncouth leagues To home above On whose natural wet sole  Denied of pleasure feet Shield Yet they dug deep to make marks  Imprinted at every foot prints That bears no count

  This poetry is a metaphorical poetry that satirises the political malpractices and sociological mis normalities in some countries. The obvious true about how harsh these policians can be and how brutal they can get to see the civilians yield to their bids. Steal freely through this poem and enrich your optimistic touch. Then they came Loads on heads Bent between; We went ahead of drum Beats of unpleasant sauce  Filling our dying thirst and  Rage with unquenched fury. With tears and care They clean our ponds:  On dry sands and spice, Weeding off our passion With metro of fervent pled  For more and more pampering.

  The poem is trying to convey the ills, sufferings and traumatic experience kids who are orphans go through. CRYING STREAMS He walked towards the rock hills The atmosphere seemed to be at a stand-still The sun smiled at him; And the green leaves on the tree, Were waving him farewell. He stared at the herds of lamb and smiled Alas! Those creatures could bring joy to his sad-stricken soul. Up he looked To the sky in anticipation He was seeking treasure Not one that could be measured Nor one that gives pleasure Yeah, it was a very unique treasure. One that brings comfort; confidence, joy and warmth. Alas! A beautiful creature appeared to him........; An epitome of beauty She stared at him and wept. Her tears entered the river banks; They overflowed. "Mother!" He cried out In a loud creaky voice; Sad-stricken with grief. He half-ran; But she was already gone.  Little as he was Innocent as the lambs; Helpless but not hopeless Embedded with loneliness He looked around. The lambs w

  When we are lost in the pleasure of sin, we own the devil an advance of our lives. Yet, in a bit to repay the debt, Christ the king died and paid the devil what we have own. Read and source for more mystery in debt and the repayment. HE PAID   I know a man from a magnificent Palace whose castle is crescent Shinny and dazzling Caring less of his stars Lost in the mist of nuance Faithful hoodlums  Gathering their daily catch of sin  And funeral of faiths; patients and service To offers at the sanctimonious palace Filled with damnation were their sofa He made from them, himself family  Gathering brethren to his clan One of simple faith and simple truth Who is he that we're made save?  Who is he that exchange pleasure for fav'r? We are no Thomas as he is no Adam either He drains his red liquid to fill  Our Wages piggy bank anew  That we might be made his general His brother, sister, and family Truly He paid it all  Without blemish  This man made them relish My miscalled pleasure—

  Sea encapsulates the true feeling of tears when shed affectionately. It runs through how the tears flows and rage like raging of the sea itself. These poem made use of large auditory imagery to transit you to sea world were tears and sea taste alike. SEA Forty first pain  Struck my neat skin with mixed stain Not worthy of a path  But Ready to scorn and succumb A hash mixed tale that cub My guilty light for a bath. Lead, lead me yet a float  To sail through this thorny fit Waiting to suck the blue tide  Out of my mellowing grain  Nine night near the nothingness gain Still, I await this faith momentum ride Read more: Missed this poem click to read  

Jesus loves is a poetry that reflects the egregious compassion of God. He has given us his begotten son—Jesus, who did not only gave his live for us, but love us endlessly.   JESUS LOVES When your frets fail to cease And those burdens overwhelms thee Your faith begins to wane And it seems like eternity; the breaking of dawn Know that he is there with you To give you peace 'Cos he LOVES you When loneliness begins to embrace your thoughts And then you face the darkness in depths Know that you are not facing it on your own He would never leave you alone Read also:  Agbojedi : a poem on politics 

The Nigeria popular herb, Àgbo, can  either be used purely or with gin. The one used ordinarily works equally and effectively as that of the gin mixed. However, the drunk prefer the alcohol mixed drink to the ordinary just as to derive their alcoholic pleasure rather than healing. Same, ideology sink into many countries political system where the newly elected political leaders are expected to be a cure to the previous ones, instead they are more of a headache than a cure. Follow through the poem to unfold more mysteries.  "Agbo ti de!" He chimes his bowl Summoning the host  Of unseen souls into doom "We prevent your illness But kill the soul; We are the bitter sweet seller"  Come buy doom!  Come buy Agbojedi!! "Agbo ti de!" He needs your soul  Since you worship pleasure He brings to you this in leisure  To heighten your mystery In the cool sea of alcohol. "Jẹdi ni, jẹdi gidi!.(it's gedi, it's the original) We don't sell hope; we exchange

The beauty of a work of art is its sound effect. It resonate with your heart rhythm promoting a cordial agreement with sound and pleasure. This poetry will heal that thirst . The talking drum roars in fierce melody Still, her silence speaks volume than it's rhythm. Who has charmed her? Could it be fear? Whose chains confines her will. Being her lover, Her vision is his prisoner. Her voice drowns in his love Alas! The streams of hope aflow Her vision could have a bath 

  Love, a name the world is built on is a mystical feeling that attracts every human regardless of their colour, gender or believe. Thus, it can only be understood by those in one. So then, the question is, when and how will it find you?   Little clouds hover Beyond my naked skin, Seeking refuge from a forgotten maggot Swallowed by doubt tossed by sanity twist Of a weak malice and delaying cover. Will my mind ever felt What it meant to bathe in sun dust? Cleaning my lingering stance of faith  In the eclipse of love over hate Fishing the sea for treasure hidden in myth.

Let the banner fly Let the name be heard  Of a new nation  Above dump and misdeed  Let a new reign be heard  Just and glory again We love and set our trust high On our green hope and victory uphold Our land is green  Our land is furnished with tongues as high  As Everest and sky

 Have you ever wondered if Nigeria was an animal character? O! What an amiable one she would be. She would detest the vulture and embrace the hen. Her claws won’t feast on her own  Those eyes will bulge only to protect and not to devour  Her walls would shield and not grow wings to fly. She would be an eagle; Not a predatious one. She would possess a tenacious vision; With defiant strength,

  Love is best replenish in one's youth. Because that is where its union is best enjoyed. But after the dark(old) age sets in, there might be misplace of what or how endless the concept of love is. Therefore, there is an instance urge for one to enroll into a relationship quickly. Learn from the poet side of argument about this ideology in this poem. Leap to me Dear sunny sea of solemn sit Fit your globe of pulchritude With the season visit To adore our union feast. To be my love, and be mine. Leap to me When your radiant is cloud; I will be your light.  Seek  me, When the peacocks are striped; I will be the sun that brighten your mind. be my love, and be mine. Read also: the forgotten tears Leap to me  Before the summer turns winter; And the might of ages declines. I will feed you endlessly. So, be my love and be mine.

Photo:Twitter Can a child who is born for freedom fly when its wings are out? or can a mother whose stomach had housed a child for 9 months be denied her baby's growth? How then can we enjoy the sensation of freedom when we are caged? This is a quick poem that entangles the mystery of imprisonment and it impact on the live of one who are bond and their infinite desire for freedom. Sitting still on swollen word lips  Hands on-shore and gaze on steels I heard their voracious laughter Cheering my tearful plead In menace  "Set my caged feather to sail" I moan in a voice of unheard harmony Read also the call Lazy bird is only lazy in stillness But potential it will in freedom For her lips will sing harmoniously To everything that breath continuously But in the rings surrounded by white hunters Her bravery is graciously locked In her heart's corners Her stomach craved the tantalizing Spice of freedom recipe  Courting down the lips and racing  teeth Of the difference sloops 

Photo credit: pixel.com When the sun set gently  Under the sky's duvet sweetly, I gazed at the fortune glory of its days Towering my head to console my heavy face; Seeing the soul moulding my fort  Lining in a state of consumed hope Birthed for a prided miracle by past seas. On, I play the squid contest  That seized my panting facade of Mystery debt to soul and dreams, Sending every momentary pleasure onward. I heard this friendly old self saying, "You've walked the part We set together Forcefully, Holding thy fragile heart still You've kept us in the snow-burning abyss  Where all our comfort is rekindled  Either for mystery or a cold bath." Hear self, hear  Give heed to trophy sage; Spice your sour courage aright And Keep your hunted feet onshore. On this twilight scene, I gaze on  To witness the death of a dying sun, And its rising from the suffering rest; When the light was flirt on looted shine Afar and then. Again, I told self in a hush voice Loud enough to

The cold is pampering my gentle skin Piping my seized breath Away from warming snow  As the refrigerator would  To preserve my lacerated bones a stick That race endlessly without a rival My teeth dance naked to an unheard beat Swinging its white crystals in shattered joy Hurrying to glance through all frozen arm  And lukewarm tears which Streams like a foreign guest to my stock body Afflicting my tormented skin anew  Blending every region into an antarctic station Taiwo Ayeni ©2022 Brief analysis Four seasons birth the circle of a year; the summer season, the winter,the autumn or fall and the spring. Each season with their effect on nature and human in its. As for this poem, it concerns itself with the aesthetics and soft pampering of the winter call. The prevailing imagery metamorphosis the visual imagery ( as refrigerator would) and tactile imagery ( pampering my gentle skin ) to recreate the effect of winter chilling that romance the poet skin, "blending every region into an a

photo credit: pxhere.com His still voice awakens our burden mist Out of its overstayed fast Even our weary feet Seized to tarry any yonder without Its masters sitting in His steadfast court Praising our thirsty effort Forth in a glory call READ HELLO AUGUST    His call, Our first sermon harvested from a fertile soil awaiting fetish word Galloping every wasted dream   Panting,           racing,                     praying and seeking Endlessly As our days of sobering is dead And a new gate of patience is here   The glory of our latter Will surely be greater than the former; The gate of our locked seed will be opened For bountiful ripe   Scaling through all uncouth sky Bowing all frustrated honor With royal glamour Setting our light high   Yeshua shall set us all right Pouring on us endlessly His ceaseless light For our brighter glory delight Even forsaken for us to be the elect READ:  SUNDAY MORN     We shall shine