The fountain Arena

We have hosted men of delight  With hands of gold and  adroit Colossal heads of invented saint And company of sinister fellow Our day has sucked the night And the night swallowed by the sun Speaking of the Sodom myth seat  Laying ego of flagged song Yester amelioration shed our pants Now, we don't dream of our nirvana seas Now, we are beaten by your plague Not anymore you foster child of vanity  We've  grown wings  Our heart has received suits  We now ride in ceaseless praise We've set sail for a new eternity Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Read also Life  At 22 Photo by pexel Previous post

  Words made Lillie's ornament For your blessed feet monument Tinkles sounds of joy forte Dancing on every soul and moon  For your enigmatic fame You are sculpted by Him  Your soul maker, birth in his prime Favoured beyond mirror chime For on your lips he adores sweets name As sets of record wit.  Why not smile a bit  And make the moon bite and sit The night darkness shine Paving ways for fantasy lite A word architect, rider of truth You are a damsel of light with Virtues far beyond space and earth She is a she-lord and woman of pious wealth. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 For Christian ...🤗 Photo credit: pexel Read sorry earth . Previous post  

  A fortress we are made; Through the mounting praise  We have raised To the triune canonical lord. Whose hands have raised our lives. By one man we are beaten  By another, we have risen  In his heart, he lifts the unsound soul Fasten to the boundless pit again  At a priceless sinner prided pain. Soft and slowly; mundane and strong, Solo and brass, chord and string; The heart that's bruised is here to sing, New worship, of a new age. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Read: Other poems from this blog Previous post Photo credit: pixebay

Photo source: pixel.com It arrives as the babel rebirth Dreaming higher and stronger For a resourceful teller Offering your lust to our Hypothesized hope gauger Mounting upon hills as its frivolity pathway For the lost worker we blend with On the hope that our heart will merry  Across the deserted stars  And the bloody moons amidst blind sky  Shaped by the movement of the restless cloud Sketching tales of unknown folklore As our wandering eyes dwells sail Awaiting her handsomest bride Holding all heads on to the lark crest As we sail gentle into your days water Looping in your grandeurs and Utopic breath Calling from times immemorial  Till today's of memory craft Come swiftly, shine more thou lonely sojourner. You You native sailor of unknown, drive freely along the green skies  to lead our hunted desire in its own forthcoming dinner glamours. Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Read more: other poem from this blog Previous post Image credit: pexel

Our souls wake on a Sunday morn Budding up with its maker con The bell chime in a crescendo Saying a cryptic psalm in piano Of hymn or a solo lines Making my Sunday morn merriments. We pam the word on a Sunday morn Daring the sun to play the pipe  Bouncing in places in symphony Blending the Clergy lyric with the pipe Piping a sonorous phone I won't ask my maker money on a Sunday morn For I saw his angel on this dawn With forty frosty miles bands of lost directors Swapping notes in melodious rhymes As we chants the Sunday morn ode Ayeni Taiwo ©2022 Read:  other poetry from this blog Previous post Photo credit: pexel

  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