Poems

✨HOPE IN SHADOW CLAWS ✨

Hope is meant to be seen in light
Dressed in a bright hue
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*✨HOW ARE YOU? ✨*
How are you?

When I ask you that,
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Pelts and pierces fierce--
They called it a battle
For food, spouse and space;
Win over with might sans grace!
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After the ride he put the torn ticket in his pocket and thought of it no more
Twenty five years latter he cleaned his closet throwing the jacket on the floor
Falling out memories of a love that left him at the bus station
Stained by tears after a life of joy, the darkness of night's separation
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When I was younger I used to lie,
In the long and cool grass under the sky,
I would watch the clouds sail across the endless blue,
And see them pass away into places I never knew,
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Sticky as obsession
Fazed by nothing
Full on the feathered one's jewels
And pearls of the green tree too
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رَوْضَة الصَفاءُ مَليْئَة بِنَغْمَة السِرُ...
ما بالي إِذا كُنْتُ لَسْتُ بِوَردَةِِ في باحَتِها،
ما بالُها بِي، بِٲَنا المَجنونُ وَ المُتَهرِئِ!
مُهنَتي أَنا المَجنونُ
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The Weight of Clean Hands
Two pillars rise from ancestral earth, A dual balance woven before birth.Cosmic law deeply, silently cast, In the soil of the present, the breath of the past.Unbroken equity, a sacred, twin sign, Where truth and justice forever entwine.Ọfọ na Ogu: separate, yet bound, A spiritual court where true might is found.No silver-tongued lie can alter the scale, Where the universe watches and ancestors prevail.The innocent rest in a fortress of peace, While the hands of the guilty find no release.Look to the Ọfọ, the branch made divine, A sacred staff carved in a secret shrine.Held fast by the elders, the kings, and the priests, To quiet the storms and to tame the fierce beasts.Aka jiofo, Ike jiofo—the mandate to speak, To tether the skies to the small and the meek.Yet the staff is but wood without the unseen, The invisible Ogu that keeps a soul clean.The quiet conviction, the lack of a stain, The moral armor through conflict and pain.For the grandest authority crumbles to dust, If the heart of the speaker is cold and unjust.Let the tyrant advance with his weapons and pride, He cannot wield power with guilt at his side.The cosmos remembers, the balance will turn, And the fires of deception will silently burn.So the blameless stand tall, looking up to the sun, Declaring the battle is already won: "Ejiri m gị Ọfọ na Ogu, " they cry, Surrendering truth to the judge in the sky.With hands completely open, transparent and bare, They leave their vindication to the cosmic air.
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My sanctuary heaven
my perfect special place.
This garden bears sweet moments,
My warm and vibrant space.
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'turncoat'


loyalty to one
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A shadow walks, a whispered name,
Not always seen, but feels the same.
A smile can hide a cruel intent,
A helping hand, a trap is sent.
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Ghost Kitchens
By William He

Crack—a bladed chime.
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