The fountain Arena

  As the dark night dim my soul ride in a wet  celestial canoe. sailing deeply on,  awaiting the morn of my funeral. I have leap a thousand times  for the day of my demised  which, reached sooner,  as autumn wind. deliberately piercing my nude skin now it's dawn, my lifeless creature lay still in world most adore ornaments. epithet that soar in a passer-by  lazy consciousness wit, commune "world of Fortune has he dwell, mundane guest of mercy gain birth " beyond, a golden silhouette spoke. "have the world prime  yielding endless starts still holds you?" morn of departure still lingers how should it be this morn? why would this brusque knave  ameliorate me in my hope valley? where would my  weeping senile lady  weary hand holds now soul journey began where the paths leads is yet unknown but my saint testament guide me on. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Click here to view next post Read: Lucid Photo credit: pexel

  The days of naivity dissipate as soul eclipse offers a new shine for an hunted soul vengeance like a torrent of a blind rain whose staff found shelter in race now the pants of truth torment our lies sending furore shivering endlessly to our desolate soul of a lost monastery molesting the company of ego in exchange of a funfair at parrot feast once, our lost act suffers clamour  for a debt settled lost we offered plain and wavy banters leftover unfolding past of courting deceit loosing self for a clearer lift and now, the joy of knowing embraces  our mesmerized soul to stupor and the imperial lids gain its sight In a cosmos sail. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Read: Other poems from this blog previous post   Photo by pexel

Mother, The gift of nature to MANkind; giver of joy of all kind; bearer of hope and classless band. Mother,  the uncoach musician, on whose mouth flows soft symphony that lures my lagging eyes to rest. Mother, the mirror of my being, the goddess of my world, the warrior without a shield. Click  to read she-idol Thou, crafter of timeless spell, a bound carriage of cryptic cell whom traveller of paradise sought. Mother, in thy eyes are written chronicles records of untold ode. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Photo credit: pexel Tap to read more poems read previous post

  He who owns all souls; Comfort me still , Melt my wounded spirit , Inspire my wandering heart. He who owns all souls  Make my sun  blue and gold  Built in your vineyard  Filled with a desire against the world. He who owns all souls; Save my suffering eyes  To see your merciful sides  In comforting mounting cries. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Read: Other poetry from this blog previous post  Photo credit: pexel

  Front page has recorded our names. Calling on every ages and sames; Even our hunted males . For monthly food lames. We've been served fat, Rich in wealth of mucor and salt, Garnished for their gluttonous fill Not a game but for fame. Ghosting our daily bread  In exchange for famished tears  Covering the ground in rain ing fears  Our cold heart seeks of a restorer of years We are their scorn, The scorn is disgust, The disgust is employed, The employed is paid, The paid becomes their prey. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Previous post  Click here to read other poems from the same author previous post  Photo credit: pexel

The light is darken  Sending blind chill around  As the waking rain harken It's cool morning wash Cleaning every swollen face  In a future call Forgetting every past seasons Waiting as the coming of harvest We unloads our burden birth Ayeni Taiwo ©2022   Read next poetry  from Ayeni Taiwo  Photo credit: pexel Read previous post  

The sky rose to meet me courtesy of furnished hope  hanging above in  mer'ment slope on a new found shelter  memes of delight has gladiates  the forgotten Sue fortunes genes full of ravishing stars  before the folk diets replete of curiosity bargain  as we feast the night again I search the stars tentacle for leads to my lost nirvana but in my dubiety I heard the sky symphony uttering the bounty of the day phony Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Photo credit: pexel Now  Read more  poetry from this poet View previous post