So the shafts that itch,
The occiput that scrawl to blind,
Determination away hale eminence,
Your fore to hold, shall no more to teach,
And as I to sail out to shore,
Fairest to the ground I shall enkindle,
The clouds, by my right to sight,
Sculptures it mould, hence must I to decript,
Too long a path,
Your staff have I gripped,
As when a great,
Hath now grandmother the alpenstock,
The sand of your time,
Appease no more to my seizure,
Let go off your haft, now do I,
As to eventuality, shall I contrive.
When the cock crow’s the morning,
It’s true, there is a night before ringing.
But Beauty-woe that sleeps in time,
Can be wake county the past dime,
A snail that race across the road,
Is he not weigh down by his load?
Tell him to break his yester shell,
saving himself from his spitting smell,
When the path have passed,
But remaining never to path,
The future tears into cup of time,
Because it’s gold remain un-mine,
When tomorrow cries to my earrings,
Let the breeze play away my past string,
Leaving for me the gold-key have sung,
Let me dance to the brightness of the new sun.
Poem BY : ADEOSUN DAMILOLA RICHARD a.k.a DAMADE
ADEBAYO OLAMIDE a.k.a DAH AESTHETE.
#Poetry with meaning.
©DAMADE – 2016.