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 ...
Fading With The Stars! The difference is very plain to see, no matter how much you try to ignore the skies above your head. You can try your best to walk as straight as possible without lifting your head up but guess what? The horizon will flip you back to the skies: the space in between is where our thoughts fly easily without any impediments. Would you believe it if I told you that you really do not need wings to fly? God gave all the wings to the birds of heaven and to His holy angels. Angels and birds need no imaginations to know how flying is like. We are the real birds of heaven when it comes to flying and soaring. When I was a boy, it was hard for me to walk around with my head bowed without bumping against somebody walking in the opposite direction. My world and my town did not look anything like what I see today: everything has changed. I feel like my original artist who first painted my world had died; what is going on? Fading with the stars may seem like ...
Checkmate! What would you say, if I suggested to you that life is one hell of a game, began with teams of players and continued to play till all the original teammates were dead? No matter how you look around your once busy world, this place is getting lonelier. My mind keeps on jumping backwards, painfully reminding me of my lost world. Just the other day. I was going through my old photos, looking at these unforgettable pictures of my colleagues I shot back in our offices. Why does it never occur to our minds to be observant of all the things we do and the way we do them? Why does no one, ever look around and say, people, let us enjoy this day together as if it was the end of the world? This life is not a 200m dash race but a life-long marathon. Checkmate! It is life itself in a game of chess where we all play together as a unified team against life. We try our best to outpace life in exchange for length of days. Sadly, one by one, checkmated by life. We lose ...
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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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