THE LONELY POET; a collection of poem
The lonely poet
A collection of poems written by Adegboyega Steven O.
Author's note
When we think about loneliness, we tend to squirm. But it could be a good and beautiful tool if used to write and think.
I hope, coming to my world you may see more than you expect and you may see less than you anticipated.
I wish you will have an open mind and yet understand my train of thoughts and intentions. For an open mind sees more than a thousand eye.
When you love
When you love a girl
Love her with her gall
For shes liable to fall.
When you love your woman
You love her as human
For to err is a woman’s
When you love your beauty
Love her with her dainty
For beauty is not so saintly
When you love your angel
Love her when she’s aged
For angels do get faded
When you love your spouse
Love her with her doubt
For yours she is somehow
When you love your friend
Love her with all her fiend
For hate is the beginning of the end
When you love her out of the blues
Love her for she is due
To fall in your hands like the morning dew
When you love your honey
Bees will sting you so horny
For from bees you get honey
When you love your darling
And the days begin to darken
Never forget to kiss her for daring
When you love your sweetie
Love not for her cuties
But for her reasons
When you love to be alone
Learn to cry alone
And prepare to die atoned
When you love a ghoul
With peace of mind like gold
Then be sure of peace like so
When you love your ladyAnd loves her so pretty
Beware, else you’ll loose her to a teddy
When you love your wife
Love her all your life
For you are in it, black or white.
RUN AWAY
Woke up this morning
Had a splitting headache
Cos yesterday I Worked myself to the bone
Till I thought I’d fall and break
Never to stand up again
Today I know
I’ll feel the same way still
Cos I found like I always do
Life revolves round nothing else
So I hope to run away from it all someday
I’m not lazy, I hope to God I am
But I want something else, an adventure.
A cure to the ever going circle
I hope I find it all someday
I long for some things
I know I’ll never get In the end
But I yearn all the same
Soon I find out
All I get, all I become
Are hindrances, and my desires
Are never satisfied
Knowledge is first
Yet, in design of greater things, the least
But like a pet, I acquire it anyway
Still it fills no void, nor crosses any ford
Nor water my obsession in the least,
The only thing I now want is
To run away from it all someday……
Sunday night in the market
Standing alone in the street
Observing the world around me
The people going about their lives
Like they don’t care if you’re alright
Lonliness makes us see perspectives
We don’t see when distracted
It is night and the sun is asleep
For those about this hour, not a wink
And none till all business
Is satisfactorily concluded
And business is productive
When the sun has retracted
Barbecue stands, children hawking crabs
Small cafeterias, tempting with hotdog stands
Pieces of junks, covering the grounds
Uncompleted road with girders all about
And smokes from the cooking fires
Giving the streets a ghostly haze
Opposite the grounds, The market can be found
Amid dins and noises, where faceless faces abound
A pictural depiction of chaos and disorder
Stalls in clusters, the market contains no further
Neon lights from the stalls, showing its mire
And its misunderstood urban craze
Automobiles on the dusty bumpy road red as rust
Clusters, moving forward and backward amid noise and dust
The gusts of dust spews into the unholy mess
Of the hotdog stands, small cafetarias and market
Showering all in a storm of sandy finesse
What beauty, what ordered chaos, a lonely poet seem to find
In a typical Nigerian market night.
Designs and things
We are lab rats
Made and fed thin
Or fed fat
All on the master’s whim
To carry out
Designs and things
Whether good or foul.
Try what we may
We can never be free
And we never can fail
To fulfill the master’s wish
Even in sleep and death
His design must be reached,
Fulfilled and felt.
Two unseen forces fight
For every human heart
Good can’t stop being the light
Evil can’t stop being dark
Both are shut tight
In the grim and uncontrollable fact
They both have no choice!
So say what you will
Crucify me if you can
But what I gain from all this
Is that everything is by design
Que sera sera, and always is
For Only the master can
Steer the plane of time.
The poet made
She made me do it
Although she didn't know
It all started at her feet
At First it was a streak
it grew to be an identifiable flow
My friends took it all so slow
Sudden change always is.
She thought it was a farce
A device i use to get
At her already gotten heart
But it was more than that
It was a force heavily felt
Since then had never slept
A fountain of the rare art.
It was like a swift current
Dammed by a thin wall
Waiting and anticipating a little torrent
To free it from its torment
She brought down the wall
But it swept her off;
Her feet along with the torrent.
It didn't stop its rush
Even after she knew and felt
Herself sink deep in it's turbulent rush
Then the current won't stop
But kept gushing till it met
With tranquil peace as it set
Spilling steadily at the slightest touch
The poet in me gushed
As a result of her enchantment
Records of what i feel, taste and touch
I write in verses well torched
Now there is but one commandment
Which proffers no room for adjustment
"Write poetry of thy thoughts!"
Goodbyes
She might as well see my heart
I might as well pity her
She might as well see herself
From my mirror
I might as well see myself in hers
We might have gone down a different path
Things might not have gone sour
I might not have used her for my fame
She might not have used me for gain
We might have been a goodly poem
Written by so happy a poet
But I might not have seen her bonds
I might not have helped loosen her
For she might then want to stay
And I might have gone astray
I might not have been here
I might have been in grief
For the pain she would give
And the brunt I would bear
She might not have been happy
She might have been in tears
A shard that would tear away at me
And end me completely
A consequence if we had stayed
I have done wrong by her
She had done more by me
We both knew what each did
But we stayed for mutual reasons
I wanted fame she wanted gain
And we tore love in the middle
Each holding one half
But never making it complete
And we lived a world of lies
“I love you” was a torment
We went through for our friends
We had different thoughts we knew we had
We were quite improperly balanced
Yet we learned and taught each other sincerely
I believe I learned a lot
From our short lived relationship
I know for a fact, she did.
So it was better we reached the divide
Where our purpose to each other was done
And we went down different path
She may remember me if she will
But our prints on each other
Shall remain a part of us.
The countryside battle
I forged ahead, trudging all the way
The sun is parallel to the horizon
Blood red and low; the end of the day
I squint around for a mansion
A place to lay down and rest and stay
A sanctuary for the stock and scion
Against the wear, on my body lay
But what do i find in this battleground
Where the lesser and subtle take their stand?
A rotten tumbledown shack
That once was the glory of civilization
Ravaging through this countryside
But nature; being the less and powerful obliviator
has brought civilization to its last stand
A few meters from me, the only protection
Gently and steadily besieged from the side,
yet putting a brave and weak contention
Against a foe outnumbering it in the fight
Inside the shack, the grasses grow tall
Where formerly trod and stood men's feet
Perhaps a parlor or a meeting place of sort
But now a place where grasses meet
The walls rumble a greeting or warning call
Perhaps unaccustomed to weary feet
And the roof rumbles and threatens a tired fall
As the wind shakes in its face, a bumbling defeat
Nowhere in this grassy, mossy hall
Can a weary traveller lean at ease
I thought, as i left to be a spectator
In this battle between the strong and weak
The cold, heavy winds that usher the fall
With thick black clouds full of water in freeze
raining wind and hail like shawl
An onslaught, a final attack from the highest peak
And a grinning moon sees them all,
Blinking and about to laugh at their defeat.
protecting myself to better see the brawl
I hid inside a cave formed by a knarled root tree
Watching with horror amazement and awe
As nature made a feast of the shack, watched excitedly by the tree
Painfully and knowingly I watch it fight
For a battle, it's gradually loosing ground
And wood and stone and blocks and sand
Inch by inch, till it'll no longer be found
Only a huge, lovely bushy lump of brown
Will show where the final lonely house
Took its dignified knockout round
With nobody but me and the dark rolling clouds,
as the full bright moon grinning, shines round
Pointing a laughing beam at where the brave fell down.
Perhaps a wild rose may gently frown
Where the shack was once found
A final insult to man, shouted aloud
By the trees and grass and mound
But I'll long have gone down,
Out and away from the battleground
World apart
If you say 'I've arrived'
Based on what you have
And then you put God aside
And think 'i don't need him'
Let's see how you'll survive
Your self-imprisonment
In your own world apart
Faceless!
She walked down the aisle
All eyes on her
Not for putting on airs
For she had none
Not for her charm
No charisma around her
But for a certain thing
i can't place a fore finger on.
I'm not praising her
On the contrary I'm a poetic critic
Why is everything suspended
As a reel movie on pause
Why are the charming ladies
Having a jealous scowl
Why are the men staring with awe
Why do i feel so tough and yet
unbelievably tender towards her
I think it's her aloofness,
her untamed, unfathomable spirit
I think it's her difference to those ladies
That makes me love her so crazily
I think its her faults that drives me insane
Yet comforts me so much i honestly can't rage
I think its her love that keeps me standing straight
Waiting and anticipating her come down
The aisle to place her hand on mine
While we waltz under forty pairs
Of jealous gazes.
And that is what all the men wished for
Silently throwing their hearts to her
As she made her way down the red carpet
Beside me, away from me and beyond the
Reach of my outstretched heart.
Lost or lust?
I'll throw it behind like a bouquet
Forgetting its pleasure
Catch it if you can, i will you not to
For in your hands is not the flower you expect
Its the decay and rot i want to expel
All decadence has its trill, i admit
Its aroma don't hide the fact its fermenting
It only gives a phasing pleasure
The smell is evidence of its rot.
the thoughts of my heart
is lust or is lost?
I'll throw it all back like a bouquet
On a wedding what dwells on your mind,
What do you think in the blink of an heart?
Food, wine, drinks, perhaps a fling or two?
Then you came to crash the party!
Fashion, friends, flowers, perhaps the bridal train?
Then you are a friend of the bride!
Meet a friend from high school, have a beer or two?
Then you are the groom's pal!
But what of the bride and groom?
What are they thinking?
*Submit Even Ten!
In latin, that's what I'd be thinking!
I'll throw it behind like a bouquet
My friend loves me but can't have me
What she doesn't know is
My thoughts run wild anytime i see her;
A sensual feeling, like being bashed in the nose
Painful and yet oozing gas like onions
An arousal, one moment seemingly
unquenched unless sated,
another moment, nauseating.
Reining in wild horses of my thoughts
Wild horses still break their fences.
When the open fields call
Her walking, talking, actions
Which can turn people off (my chums told me)
Are open fields which makes the horses gallop!
My bestie made my life miserable
But she knows how sorely tempted i am
After all, she's my best friend!
I think she loves having a little power
Over me more.
i'll throw it once more like a bouquet
The obscenities i say, do not catch it
It is quite contagious, all decays do
even so, i think of unholy things
Things i don't dare try
Even if she dares to tempt me
I don't have the guts
I may have rotten thoughts
But i am still made to fear.
Like a true child of religion.
Like fire that can't burn
I can only dream and fantasize
But in reality, I'm afraid I'll lost my way
If i plunge in the maze of lust with her
I'm wild but I'm also afraid,
I'm lost but i can be saved,
If i can run from my bestie.
She's a lot like me, but with much pluck
I'm just a rotten bouquet
that has lost his scent and beauty
Into the dreamland!
Restless dreams I've walked alone
Silent streets of marbled stones
Untrod, but worn by ceaseless
And wandering wanderers
Old and young dream travelers
Carrying nothing, holding everything
Seeming respite this place is for every being
Yet does not bode well in the end
Because its a welcome to dreamland!
A land i go to in sleepy silence
I leave in climax violence
The streets i tread, a backdrop of decay
Adventures of serious, surreal images
Leading me like a mare of the dark ages,
Or getting entangled in labyrinthine mess
Flitting in and out of consciousness,
Or giving my spirit a sleepy smile
I'm deep in the dreamland
To some, it can teach, kill, inspire
To some, it can distort, contort or retire
To some, something to fear and respect
To me, it's an extension, a tool
A getaway from my lonely groove
There, colours are tasted, cares are sated
A world of stereotype, where results are not fated
Where all occurence are results of what we carry
Into the no man's land we call dreamland.
I find that i get things better
If i re-live it in my dreams, taking the beta
and let a phantom take the lead
Doing everything i did act for act
This way i judge where i go wrong
Perhaps I correct myself forbetter
So i can account occurences further
With all the tastes and sights and colours
I gained from the dreamland.
My imaginations and base thoughts
Explodes and go loose in the fogs
Of the ethereal world of dreams
I can play the hero or the damned
And build all forms of obstacles in a kind
I take it as my personal turf
Where my demons do their stuff
But in the real world I appear as soft
As i was tough in the dreamland.
Its my safety mechanism
That keeps me sane amongst monotonism.
Try daring in the real world and you won't last.
Although in dreams, it don't worth a fart
Yet it feeds my wild conjexture fat
To make me dabble in poetic craziness,
Where i feel crazy freedom and liveliness.
Only fellow dreamers can understand,
Who has repeatedly been in the dreamland.
Odio has a brother
*Odio has a brother,
Partners in mischief.
His herald, his fore-runner
*Amargo is the name of the chief
*Mientras golpean, another tumbles one on the other
*Rabia is the clumsy noisy thief
*Que te robe el alma
*Una bestia it makes of you
intoxicating, a berserker on a high horse
When sated, you are made the fool
*Rabia has robbed you leaving remorse
*Desesperado brings the bull
*Cuyo solo cuernos your heart have struck
*Para roberte el alma
*Sublir of powers
And fall of same
Comes from these brothers.
*Rabia also in the game
*Porque ellos golpean and power tumbles one on the other
*Mansedumbre only can stop their game
*De roberte el alma
Notes on translations
*Submit Even Ten > Summitto Etiamsi X (SEX)
Odio> Hate
Amargo> Bitter
Mientras golpean> as they strike
Rabia> Rage
Que te robe el alma> that rob you of your soul
Una Bestia> a Beast
Desesperado> despairing
Cuyo solo cuernos>
Para roberte el alma> To rob you of your soul
Sublir> rise
Porque ellos golpean> for they strike
Mansedumbre> Meekness
De roberte el alma> of robbing you of your soul
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