Abel John Poems

Last time I saw a damsel, virgin
she was,
I knew it was true but she
wasn't so good to look upon
...

Before the sun on her corridor
steps,
In a chat engage I the bamboo
bed;
...

Awoken to behold the demise of
our fathers,
Children born with no father to
cut a navel.
...

O man, art thou perfect?
Made of perfection,
Man in perception cultured.
The eyes and mind none
...

Night's in the
neighbourhood,
As the sun's gone to bed.
A great work it's done,
...

Search your spirit,
Search your heart,
Give an ear to the still little voice;
And you'll find that the things I counsel you of
...

Right from the rising of the sun,
Time crawls like the stepping of chameleon.
The moon laughs at the anxiety in these eyes;
Doors of days shut too sluggishly.
...

Deep down the mind, the yearning of incredibility;
Once an offer of a brotherly love, affection and responsibility,
But what can love, void of romance,
For a belle of absolute glamour bore if not a clamour for a desire?
...

True! 'Being early plucked is sour to taste.'
How fulfilled man could've been, and not in haste;
But for him the tongue choose death
And a brief breath, pieced with paste.
...

Eh! The mouldy walls that bore
our fences have stripped us
naked.
Those with swollen chest that
...