#poetryprison

[ayodapoet-blog]

who I am .

who am I in shackles  or in freedom ?

a bird or my window?

Im trailing this path to fill in the balance 

while I swing  like a pendulum.

Reliving scars  in a conundrum

was  equal to stepping  on thorns 

escaping death like a connoisseur .

 I have failed even before I arrived 

from different dimensions that  the earth has priced.

I lost and have  won 

from different scars  I inflicted in my ignorance. 

Unapologetically, who I am is not resumed 

in any form, shape or matter . 

Im the human in constant evolution 

like the drums for my feet.

Who I am is a conscious process that breath 

thin air and  push  resilience in the face of despair.

 all right reserved @drtosinayodele 2022

[1ofthecats-blog-blog]

I will write again.

Behind these rusty

yet robust bars,

Lies memories which are waiting to be forgotten

yet can't seems to fade away.

On a Forlorn Friday,

The guard handed me a few pieces of paper

and told me,

"Here, pen a letter to your loved ones

reassuring them that you're doing fine here."

Who was I suppose to write to?

The man whom I gave my love to,

has now become a stranger to me.

Just that he's still tied with a string of hearts,

and one of them is mine.

The family whom I devoted my life to meeting their expectations,

is nowhere to be found in town.

Buried with embarrassment.

At that blank piece of paper,

flawless and free of pencil markings,

it made me reminisce of the good old days when I used to write.

Beneath those lines,

are just kept memories.

Prisoned by reality,

Thrown with nothing but imagination.

I say, "I will write again."

It will not be a letter, but a piece of work I'll feel proud of myself after decades.

Submission for 'Tumblr Poet Challenge' by poeticallyundead

Topic: 'Words from prison'

Original post: 

http://poeticallyundead.tumblr.com/post/6386629003/tumblr-poet-challenge

[ayodapoet-blog]

The Tale Of An Activist

My precious Heart, i know the state of mind you presently dwell in, so i write down this bitter words not as a letter but as words to console my idleness,heart break and archive my encounter. Its been a year old my love has been assassinated, placing my spouse and unborn child into trial of life sentence, In the sober corner layeth my poisoned heart, it has been assassinated by injustice. Apparently because my tender tone was the voice for the common men speaking extremely loud causing disorder to the cerebro of whom it concerns, my felicity in the hands of the perforated hearts who lacks mercy and bleeds cruelity, they filled my tunes with sorrowful piano keys, wife in gestation period, hope ponders how she struggles the darkest night alone. My tears becomes my luxury liquor it consoles my soured mouth and makes my emotion cold what is life when it's domain is stolen? my nights migrated into an anomalistic month prolonging poignancy. —- my only hope now is time off for good behavior. This challenge shall be a tough one and I may have to escape back to the world sooner, but for now I’m a just a reader. http://poeticallyundead.tumblr.com/post/6235248500/tumblr-poet-challenge