Warrith Olawale

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Like A Falling Star
The sunset began before my eyes,
Angels sinking their heads in soulful cries.
The soldier's thumping footfalls fade away
The oldman now drags his atrophied feet about all day.
The Land Of The Dead
The cold dead wind saunters in this bleak land
Where i dwell breathing inert air
Ears-fed by the tremulous voices of the dead, their tremulous hands
In gloves of numbness serene with the soil's care
Why Call It Love? ?
Why call it love and sing about
If it's only in the summer, it sprouts?
Why do we deceive ourselves at pleasure
That there's no winter with censure?
The Second Blindness
</>We've been blind; we've been blind.
We've walked in the shadows of the night,
Where nothing saw us; we saw nothing
We've been blind.
Life Isn'T Fair
I'd like to say life is fair - - but it isn't.
I'd like to say we'll all have bread-
For breakfast - - but fate shakes its head.


Cristina M. Moldoveanu 17 January 2015
I read a few of your poems and I was delighted to find a genuine feeling of tenderness towards life, an understanding of good or bad things altogether, an acceptance of life with all its beautiful treasures. Everything well expressed.
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Stewart Gideon 01 November 2011
i really love the way you write, the themes you write on and your ideas. good job.
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