Tag: Ready

Listen

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What if you knew that I truly would rather not be here?
What if you knew that my knees refuse to be still?
That my pounding heart is the one sound you cannot hear
Would you listen to me still?

What if I told you how unsure I am of this?
That time and chance kidnapped my will and set me up
What if my lines are not yet the truth I want to live?
Would you listen or shut me up?

What if I am confident?
I know what I have put in , I am ready
What if I don’t fit in the box “humility” presents?
Would you be pissed or yet listen to me?

What if I am nothing like what you are expecting
What if you still listened anyways?
What if the content was your hearts longing?
Wouldn’t you be glad you listened anyways?

Ezeonyeka Godswill
© 2019

Fry-day

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Last night, i got laid
Doubt came to me in my dreams
And had an intercourse with my mind
I am five months gone
Carrying these thoughts around
Hoping to abort this abomination
So, let me break open my insecurities
Hoping to make an omelet
Because today is fry-day

Shots fired
Fear has breathed its last
I am shut fire
Ready to explode at last
This is suicide
I die to rise, call it Easter
Fear skews sight
Jesus fixed it, Bethsaida

I love a meal of eggs,
Egg-xactly omelets.
The way we can whisk two together or maybe more,
Like the intercourse of minds, like the grind of spirits.
And isn’t beautiful, the wet and slip of waters, the freshness like a new day, the way it all becomes familiar and new?
As we sit at tables set before enemies ,
Fellowshipping with sips of living tea and chewing bread alive, making alive,
That the omelet served is faith, the abortion to every doubt.
Isn’t it beautiful, the sparks that fly as iron sharpens iron, and ideas are born for the time they arrive?
Don’t you just love a meal of omelets?

Olaoye Adeleye
Ezeonyeka Godswill
St. Davnique
© 2019

#Fry-day
#FreestlyeFriday

I am here with you

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I look ahead, I see the past,
I close my eyes and feel the beat,
Of the chest, I tried but tears dropped,
I challenge my mind, trained my faith,

But all this while,
No better days,
I am trapped in the center, the middle,
Life is hard, much harder when you fail,
I lost before, losing again,

The eyes of the sky is black,
And the womb of hell, blue,
I am ready to go, no more,
Farewell mingling toil and wine,

But,
‘Wait!’ dear farmer If you can,
Accept this hoe for your soil if you will,
For I am the end of all sorrows, a new dawn,

So stop and stoop,
Now till and till again,
Gather all worn out tools,
For I am here with you!

Ugwu David C
© 2018