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I’d rather write than speak
My pen is always responsive
My ink doesn’t judge my mistakes
My paper doesn’t argue
My lines never cross me
My sentences never disappoint
And my words will never leave me
Yes,
I am a poet.
I dream while awake,
expressing the ability
to heal with my words.
I have faith.
Poetry is my therapy.
My pen and my words
are my weapons,
of war,
of mass destruction,
of peace,
of love and happiness,
of friendship.
My pen,
is the commander in chief,
the director,
not a dictator,
with an accessible space,
and the key to the
nuclear weapon
i can direct it
to make war or peace,
just as I choose.
I got me a brush to
paint words with
melancholic overtone,
of ecstatic bliss,
for my thoughts to flow,
on the canvas,
with different shades
of colourful words,
time to dwell
and ponder
and meditate on life matters.
The issues of the mind,
and of what the heart feels,
i translate into reality.
The control of the united emotions
of my feelings and thoughts are in
the hand holding the pen to paint
the words of living in the canvas of life.
Poets have the power to make
the invisible things to manifest,
thoughts hidden and
not heard to have a face.
The secular world,
the whole cosmos,
the galaxy is at their command.
I am a poet,
I make the mind see the heart,
I make the heart of man flow
in ecstatic bliss.
To dream is unwritten poetry.
A poets joy lies in the portal
of the divine.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
 Jun 2018 Speaking Eyes
Isabelle
it lingers
amongst the pillow
the roses you left on the vase
it lingers
in the air I breath
on my closet
the scent of you
it lingers everywhere
leaving me yearn for you
***
 May 2018 Speaking Eyes
Lily
Always
 May 2018 Speaking Eyes
Lily
Always there, never wavering,
Always there, always stabling,
Always through tears,
Always through fears,
Always as the end draws near;
Always e'en though there's nothing to fear,
When he's right by my side, being my
Always.
 May 2018 Speaking Eyes
Eve
I will forever remember
Those beautiful deep brown eyes
That you thought were so plain.
But darling, you could not see:
how could you possibly see?
The way they shined in the sun
breathtaking hues of mahogany
Melting into golden rays
Circling an eclipse
your “plain brown eyes”
truly aren’t plain at all
they are a stunning mixture
of every color known to man
The most beautiful sunset on earth.
Your eyes are the most vivid memory I have of you, even after all of these months. You always used to call your eyes "boring and plain" and even called them "**** brown." But to me, your eyes were the most beautiful color I've ever seen. You know when you mix a bunch of colors together and it all turns brown? Thats how I viewed your eyes... The deep brown was just a mixture of everything you could offer the world.
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