Freewill Amon

Freewill Amon Poems


Her eyes glitters like the icing on a cake.
Bosom so smooth like hot loaded bowl of pounded yam
Her breasts are like bunches of grapes
Her kiss is a drug I take and feel so dizzy
Her touch caresses me like the evening breeze

Sometimes I'm up
Sometimes I'm down
Sometimes I smile
Sometimes I frown

Sometimes when they touch me,
they pass me the signal.
And I get bursting,
thinking like a criminal.

Here is what seems like the usual days

But it is actually not the same

I like it when I talk about you, because you're a wonderful person
I like when I hear your voice, because it is like a medicine

I like it when I call you, because I enjoy your endearments

I miss a mother:
Who would be there when she has to be
Who is not afraid of challenges,
But looks them in the eye and deal with them point-blank

I like the way she walks
And the way she talks
And how I like to say her sweet name:

The message you sent to me this morning drove me to ecstasy
And it reminded me of one of my early fantasies
You are like a love embassy;
A channel through which one experience love realities

To me, there's no such thing as a best place.
And there's no best, but a special friend:

Like a raging volcano in the core of the mountain
Like fast running water in the holes of a fountain
Like the vibration from Sagem phones
So excruciating! I'm caught so deep in the bad zone

Her sonorous voice so rings a bell
And melts my heart whenever it freezes.
She's an epitome of beauty
With the most alluring 'figure-eight.'

I staggered around to a corner
And tried to check how much I've achieved
But when I found almost nothing,
I realized I've been sleeping.

There are two things that I like to hear
Which could be my greatest asset for the year:
One is, 'you are now a millionaire! '
And the other is, 'you are safe to go anywhere'

The world goes round
But I don't move with it
Circular movement leads nowhere
Mine is upwards

I was just about to get in
Before I suddenly got hit
The sky spinned round and around
As I rolled on the road

Don't mock me of my skin colour
Because it is not a curse
Don't mock me of my gender
Even that is the worst.

Oh what did I do that I got forced out of my comfy room? ;
An innocent soul cries in her shabby tomb
Why have they decided to say, 'she will not live to see the light? '
Why have they denied me of my right to life?

I've always wanted to shout a loud hallelujah
But I get weakened by the reason of been frustrated
I've expected a miracle in so many church programs
But they came to an end leaving me feeling cheated.

Freewill Amon Biography

I's born and raised in Africa, Nigeria precisely, the third in a family of five.5.9 inch tall and a diploma holder (OND) from a polytechnic school in my country. I's verbally abused by my folks, especially my mum. My growing up was perfect as a kid but miserable and lonely since my teenage years due to a health problem I got at the age of 14 called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I'm born again, though not finding Life In Christ smooth, as some people might make you think-but it's the biggest thing in my life. My poems are the data-base of my inner-most feelings and expression of my ideas and opinions. Just like music, they're my door to happiness and window out of pain-no matter how heavy I might feel about a problem, I feel so free when I lay it down on a paper. Writting poems is more like a fortress in a barren land; it is taking a refuge. Have fun as you read my poems. It's ok to react in any way they make you do. I welcome your comments.)

The Best Poem Of Freewill Amon


Her eyes glitters like the icing on a cake.
Bosom so smooth like hot loaded bowl of pounded yam
Her breasts are like bunches of grapes
Her kiss is a drug I take and feel so dizzy
Her touch caresses me like the evening breeze

The touch of her boottie feels like the influence of alcohol
The aura of her presence is like the aroma from my favourite diet.
The sound of her voice is like that of a loner's pet.
I kiss her on her lips standing at 5 feet,9 inches
I open her bra for a little play and she says, baby please...

Looking at her in her mini-skirt, I feel like trading places
The dark road between her legs, is like a way to a treasury
Her soft pretty lips, tastes like fresh cold palm-wine.
The 'little thingy' between her laps is like a honey comb
She's like mouth-watering dishes brought together as one-
I remember that when I see her in her black panty-hose.

Looking at 'the twin in the balcony, '
I feel like going back to my cradle
They are like gazelles-
Marvels of an extra-ordinary creation.

She looks at me with a fiery eyes
And blood rushes down to my groin
I'm watching as she stands before me in her brief
And that feels like sitting before a fixed hot plate.
She is my cherry and sweat-pea
The special one who spins my head round
Especially when she goes... down....

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