My Poetry Diary

Perfect night, starry eyes; Nothing is as beautiful as the color of your eyes, It shines like the sun and gives like the trees, It echoes like a melody and soothes like the breeze. Silky dresses, as dark as the night; Wantonly, what a craving sight; It mesmerizes and every men want to say hi, Nothing is as sensual as the rhythm of your sighs, There a fairy with the hair as white as snow; Her countenance teaches the light to glow, Delicately wrapped in Tiina Talumees’s blue; She is the most perfect of the beau. Gafar Odubote, “Perfect”, copyright 2020

We found a spot on the pipeline along the way, We cracked her open so the golden fluid gushed and spewed the hay: Our jerrycans wantonly filled and like rain we got soaked in its splash; We struggled for the fountain but without a clash; Alas, we sprouted chaos in the clans that it’s a gift drawn from our soil, So we fought the authority to give us good return from our oil. Amidst shouts and excitement, my clansmen drew the carbon blood, Then came a bang from the hay amidst the flood, The fluid o’er the stone and flesh starting to burn, While she spewed, danced and glittered in the sun, The day suddenly dawned and I knew we were wrong; I pushed beyond the crowd but the inferno came with a thirsty tongue, It licked our mixed sweets and the innocent eyes far aloof; I lifted my head and I saw the vultures hovering above, This was the last thing I saw and I knew it was the end; We cracked the pipeline and we are dead. Gafar Odubote, “Golden Fluid”...

On this street, O’ what a sudden cease; The beauty came but we couldn’t hug and bloom, O’ what a plague, my nose cannot savor the breeze; Or being tickled and wantonly sneeze. If this should pass, I will hang out more to see the moon, I will run free and perceive all earthly scents, I will shake hands with clansmen and strangers alike, At the market square, will I pitch my tents, To talk more about having a clean earth; I will walk in the rain and watch as each thunder strikes. I will be at crowded beaches in splashes of waves, Rolling on crowds at every ‘thank God is Friday’ Drinking from the same bottle with Usman and Daves, Beastly shouts as African braves; And watch Manchester United at every single matchday. If this should pass, I will come home early from work, To be at SEA and KOE’s bedside and sing some lullaby, Sharing bedtime stories with a subtle tuck, No more excuses for Agbeke or scouting for an alibi. Gafar Odubote, “If thi...

When death takes the flesh! In an harvest of time when unmellowed; Earthly tears rolls through the serpent mesh; Hurriedly taken unhallowed; Then the light went off the erstwhile spunky eyes; After the fall and rise of turbulent quests; Her soul has gone with the butterflies 🦋  A vivacious soul has gone to rest. Resting In the firmament beyond the sky; In paradise to heed to the subtle call; Maybe you rise and say goodbye; You left without one and I mourn. Alas, you gave us memories and though we wept; Thank you for toiling for better humanity till last breath. Gafar Odubote, “Serpent Mesh”, copyright 2020 (To Marit; a cheerful soul - rest on)

Those eyes I saw, Held me nigh like a crystal ball; O’ Mirror, Mirror thou watching the world; I know already she is the prettiest of all! So succulent, So raw! Wildly enticing, I wanted more. But I knew those eyes I saw; Thou a goddess basking by the shore, Entangled thou bid me to thy eyes; slowly I met at thy flirty stare; Thy magical voice is a fire and an ice; Thou so seductive, thou so rare; Those eyes burns like the sun; I seek thy heartbeats, I found none; In thy grasps the flesh heaved to spun; Awestruck, thy webbed arrogantly won. Those eyes; O’  Näkk  they cunningly stuns; Thou so seductive, thou so rare; Thine hypnotic murmur wantonly burns; O’ charmer of the lakes, thou with snowy flaming hair, Thy charms had me wantonly in thy snare; In a quicksand I dare fight not in thy lair. By the river in thy abode I knew where, Those eyes I saw are magical, I swear. Gafar Odubote, “Eyes of Näkk”, copyright 2019 ...

The accuser of the brethren came stealthily with scythe and dye, Bow now! he said with this breath of ash, Alas! He struck and the wheat bleeds crimson and die, And thro’ the dye he faked wounded with a slash; The wheat stooped but deeply rooted with the tide, The crucifer grinned and climaxed in front of the sire; He accused again with a flirty wind of pride; Let’s burn his stalk, he said with a fire; The Sire nodded and said not in my eyes; The leaves are yours but the root is not for thee; The wheat heaved to the opinion of the wise,  Mother Earth whispered, ‘i will nurture thine fibrous feet to a tree’, The sage pleaded for a truce and not much. Howbeit thou bury a dust on the urge at thy please? Gloatingly he strutted, and that’s the end of such. For eternity, the tree is at bliss. Gafar Odubote, “the accuser and the Wheat”, copyright 2019

O' beautiful morning breeze, sated in thee; Thou my lover, a pure magic indeed; A little more sunshine and tidings will be, This is pure magic, like the Nordic singing bee; At such a time when paradise is far, The youth at its prime, gazing the star; Alas he said, "what a sight to grope", "To see the star, a pure magic i hope“ O’ what a sight, when the lily wakes and smile, A sight to behold as I breathlessly wait for a while, The petals unfolds to thirst the morning dew; This is pure magic, a magnificent view  But a pure magic i divinely seek, To see Africa radiantly at its peak, Only love and unity and no parasite, And the environment is clean like a paradise Gafar Odubote, “this is pure magic”, copyright 2019