john chizoba vincent

Gold Star - 15,480 Points (18 may 1990 / Aba, Abia stae)

Original Sin - Poem by john chizoba vincent

Her body glows like the sun,
She arouse my feelings and emotions
Each time I watches her pass by with
Her buttock clapping left and right,
She bathe my spirit with pure love
And imprisoned my heart in her bosom.

I have watched her undress and the air
Was tempted by her beauty which radiate
All over the room as I hide behind the extrance of her room.
I long to touch those apples that shoot out
On her fertiled chest with a humble smile;
Those apples I have watched growing up Biblically.
Her beauty I cannot explain with words.

I chase away many men that come near
Just because I love her beyond myself.
I have her in my mind eyes dancing everyday,
Her smiles brings heaven on earth,
Changes the colour of the universe to blues;
In her world is an endless joy of mankind.

I have fallen in love with my blood,
I regain hope on seeing her laugh effortlessly.
Her walks turn me on and on until I could not
Hold it any more than to have her to my bed.
I watches every of her moves in and out,
Making sure she never see any man nor woman,
Protecting her with a husband's envy and jealous.

I am mesmerized by the efficacy of that which descend from her mouth.
I prithee to cut through the weeds of my derailed intellect, with the sharpest edge of her art of beauty.
None! , for the hard-line will always thrust its spear into her victim.
It is visible to the blind; just like it is audible to the deaf, that her words are a platform of gold, relayed before the throne.

We meet at the balcony some day
Our eyes meet and she shy away,
We meet at the inner room, our
Body touch each other but she moves away drastically.
When I tries to hold her hands, to feel her heartbeat
As a sister, she escape through my thought.

My feelings went wild with a venom,
The drive to feel her warm cries aloud,
My urge to touch her emotions materialised.
Then I pretends to be sick on the bed,
I warn that no one brings my food except her,
My mother thought my love was pure;
Then she sent her to my inner room
To take care of my dying soul.

In the court of my room
I grapse her by the hand and,
She watches me innocently as I caress her.
I pull her up to the bed and have my way,
As she struggles and screams like the Eagle
I rape her and takes away her pride,
Her innocent pride and dignity upon the bed.
When I came down, I becomes empty within,
My love for her evaporate like the vapour.
Now, I hated her with passion after eaten the fruit

Topic(s) of this poem: lost love

Form: Anagram

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 5, 2015

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