habib akewusola (3/6/1990 / JOS, NIGERIA)
Bus Stop Filled Wıth Raindrops
In a glance from my farm
I see harmattan moving from
Hand to mouth,
Like the trembling stars
Without request before shine.
I am always on heat
As the steam from
My cooking steel,
Hamattan is this beauty
Queen
Ready to freeze every victim,
I bite various feelings
I never overheard about
The pyramid located in Egypt.
Hamattan enjoys pleasure at
Absence of raindrops,
There's no town named
Favour
Labour brings flavor,
I handled time as she
Was clay soil.
Hamattan finds another
Junction
You know material bliss
Is my custom,
I spread around with
No full stop,
These night I fleet a
Rain drop
Rearranged my gator's
Into vapor,
My name was mentioned
Among traitors.
Rain alone expose the licking
Roof,
And overflows this shallow
Pool,
Am left with one truth
Call on the Great Tool
That service even
The Moon.
Comments about this poem (Bus Stop Filled Wıth Raindrops by habib akewusola )
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