Adeosun Olamide

Adeosun Olamide Quotes

  • ''I'm not the devils child. I am Christ.''
    A Traveller
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  • ''We are angels with horns.''
    A Traveller
  • ''And we wait tonight for the arrival of death, to take your freezing soul. We stand by with warmth in ours- watching you pale, watching you come colder.''
    A Traveller
  • ''This moment - there are no remembrances, no memory - your sickness have taken all, have worn us all out, we only remember feeding you, changing your clothes, we only remember the odor of your stool, we only remember a miserable life and all before that is gone.''
    A Traveller
  • ''Your beautiful face, all is gone - we wait for death your messiah, your savior from this misery, our savior- so that tomorrow we won't have thoughts of murder and your thought of suicide won't linger.''
    A Traveller
  • ''And we knew not - the breeze that came was death. And in its arrival - spelled us a slumber as take from our greasy grasp a soul we once loved.''
    A Traveller
  • ''It would be hasty, the burial- so the gods don't withdraw their mercy, punishing us on. And by dawn - shall be a blessing to the worms.''
    A Traveller
  • ''From a slave to being a widow. Now your children can have my little strength, now they can see their mother, now I can keep them warm.''
    A Traveller
  • ''He brings me smile and calls my scars -The cause of my beauty''
    A Traveller
  • ''Go now, sow seeds, plant roses- where shall be your grave, grow daffodils.A stream, course path to hear water through.And a tree as shade.''
    A Traveller

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Best Poem of Adeosun Olamide

Season Of The Coffin Makers

Out here in mist, a virgin widow
With coffin just wedded husband
He died of laughter, she says
That was pure, untouched

In here the mist, a virgin mother
With coffin just wedded daughter
She died of syphilis, she hears
As priest turns her away

Out there in paradise town, a candle light
With coffin of virgin mother
She died of laughter, all says
That twitch sprouts in head hers

And silence in the cathedral
Out here beneath mist
The coffin of its priest
A veiled rapist night before shot- heard

Read the full of Season Of The Coffin Makers

A Walking Shadow.

Crow of the cock calls into pleasant dreams,
The ray from the aged untamed fury sun gladdens and saddens him,
The greet from the aging locust peddler seem a bleating scream,
He forever lay in a mere shell of old ache grim.

The curtains of reminiscence aloof, except for memories unknown,
Mood wavering in desolation and shade as though of lingering rose with no jack,
This, for thought of dabbling feet in flowing stream consumes him,
And all that remains is unpleasant voices humming

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