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MY NAME IS A POEM

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My name is a poem
That single piece of word
Announcing my identity, personality
Ethnicity and nationality
All at once
My name is a poem
That resounding two syllable sound
Attached to everything I do
What I should do
And what I should become
My name is my poem
And I’ve always lived by my name
But life’s pace has gotten faster than I expected
It’s pull dragging me by the collar of my neck
Denying my lungs the fresh air that it needs
Like a paper origami on a flowing lake
On a raining day
Being pulled along by the river tides
Never having the freewill to go this way or that way
Like a paper origami on a flowing lake
On a rainy day

Hurried along by life’s pace
I’ve walked past my name and left my poem behind
Now sitting alone in this darkness
Putting on my regrets like a fully adorned royal regalia
Trying to remember what my name once sounded like
What the melodies of my poems once felt like
Trying to filter out my poem amidst these numerous voices

inside of my head
Biting off bits of my hearts, and
spitting out the chunks
Against the deafening echoes of this silent shadows
Like they were the rotten flesh of my decaying carcass
Sitting alone in this darkness now
Bottle in one hand, regret in the other
Picking up words like they were stones
To fling at the foot of God’s throne

Waiting for some door in a black cloud
To open up but nothing happened
Rain falls, night comes
And i’m still here, sitting alone in this darkness
enveloped in the shadows of what I once used to be
I used to be something good
I used to be words carefully wrapped with beautiful metaphors

I used to be imageries painting emotions anew
I used to be smiles on faces after a genuine I love you straight from the heart

I used to be answers

I used to be fresh ink painting away sorrows on the innocence of white pages

I used to be voices

I used to be echoes echoing off the voices of
Yeats, Shakespeare, and Dickinson
The words that grew wings and fly
I used to be the feelings engraved at the top of your heart

Maya Angelou , Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost

Raise your words, not your voice, It is the rain that grows flowers not thunder

Rumi, Li Bai, Homer

I used to be something meaningful,

Beautiful

But Like a paper origami on a flowing lake
On a raining day
Being pulled along by the river tides
Never having the freewill to go this way or that way
Like a paper origami on a flowing lake
On a rainy day
Hurried along by life’s pace
I’ve walked past my name and left my poem behind

by

Ajijola Habeeb

Source: http://loudthotzpoetry.blogspot.com.ng/

Picture Source: https://kittywinder74.deviantart.com/art/My-name-is-Philip-I-am-a-Poet-666052569

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