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The author would really appreciate your constructive comments based on how you understood and interpret each poem. Poems can mean different things to different persons and all views can be correct as long as they conform to the contents thereof. This is the beauty of Poetry.

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THESE STREETS!

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These Streets! One cannot forget these intimidating up and down stares furiously targeting the good citizens of this town. Who are these people, these faceless bullies and where did they come from? We used to fill and occupy these streets from corner to corner and screamed all day long as kids. Hey. We feared nothing at all because these streets belonged to us. We will not allow our streets to be deserted in broad daylight as if we’re back to pandemic days! My mother and father were born and met on these streets. I lived under their shadows after they introduced me to these same streets. I grew up on these streets, I know and speak the language of these streets and unreservedly own these streets. These streets gifted me my place in the sun and all the wokeness that comes with my birthright. I wrote these verbs, prose, and verbiage for you because I can.  To remind all and sundry that Pikelela left his footprints on these timeless streets. Yep, these streets are mine, and I own the ...
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MY EPILITHIC BEAUTY!

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  MY EPILITHIC BEAUTY! My Epilithic Beauty. She doesn't have the seductive eyes of Abigail nor misleading charms and swerving curves of Delilah. She's no Cleopatra nor Queen of Sheba. She charms no one. Her smiles and laughs, all belong to her. My Epilithic Beauty. She carries no sword nor brandishes her natural assets to attract men: She's simply a woman with nature. She's no soul snatcher and takes no prisoners with her! She only holds sway over her man. All famous women, famously known by their seductive beauty, and feminine strength: to tame great renown men of valour. They turned their beauty into swords to beat heroes and mighty kings in their own games. Kingdoms and Empires were brought down to their knees. All famously accredited for leaving famous trails of blood of feared men: heads of kings brandished as medals. Fearless and most regal men, believe and think that playing with dangerous seductive women: is just another game inside the theatre of death....
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MY BUTTERFLY!

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  My Butterfly! Living in my lofty apartment and glaring down these industrial buildings they call modern development. The loss of touch with Mother Nature is nausea for my soul. Waking up each morning without the choirs of birds singing for me is worse than the deadliest snakebite. Sounds of machinery, cars, and delivery trucks doing their day and night routine is nothing but jarring music to my soul. With due respect to the birds out there. What else can they do if my community has no trees? There can be no chirping birds without trees, no singing nightingales. Trees are natural platforms for birds. Looking through my windows, I can see jovial swallows heralding the coming rain. It is hard for me to believe this is the same town where I grew up as a boy. O God, we had all kinds of trees and types of fruits for free. But today? Walking down the open fields, we used to be surrounded by thousands of butterfly species all day long! Butterflies would fearlessly land al...
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