poetry

The Truth About Forever. 

The truth about forever,
Everyone asks what forever is, and that’s because they think it’s a feeling. Just like love which to some is a feeling and to others a choice. It’s the same as forever.

It’s either you feel your forever is a feeling which means your “forever” could change or even stop. Or its a choice which means your forever lives up to its name as forever.

Though people do really crazy stuff just to know what forever is, but they fail to realize forever could be the smallest thing they do or the smallest decisions they make on a daily. I mean someones forever could last for 2minutes, 5days, 6 weeks, 3 months, 5 years, or it could even be a second. Yess, yess! that’s how forever is at least to me. Most people fail to realize how their everyday decisions affect their forever.

I’m going to link Forever to happiness. You could choose to have your forever everyday. That would mean you would choose to be happy everyday, withstanding what everyone says, even when things might go bad. You look at the positive side even when you think there isn’t one. You just keep your forever going and try and solve the problem. Or you could wait for someone who would spark something in you to make you feel like you have a forever.

The only problem with this, which to me is the most diabolic, is the fact that that someone could choose to leave at anytime. That someone could take your forever from you whenever they feel like, they could take your happiness too.

So which do you Choose? The same thing could be said about love. Do you choose to love yourself and your neighbor no matter what and be happy? Or do you choose to wait for someone to love you before you are happy and then give them the power to take that happiness?

Which is It?

 
Kindest Regards,

Pm Von Cephas.

Love, poetry

Te acuerdas?

 “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”

                                                  -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Denola do you remember?

It was our first year in highschool, I was the round, chubby, quiet girl and you were the rebel in a sweater. You walked up to me one day and told me you liked me, that you thought I was beautiful. Denola do you know that was when I fell in love with you? but our personalities were so different, if you were the sun and I a planet, I would be the farthest one from your orbit. That is the reason why, for three years we ignored each other Denola, you never spoke to me and I was certain that you felt nothing for me.

 

Denola Do you remember?

We had gone to San Diego with a couple of friends for the summer, I couldn’t sleep that night, my boyfriend and I were having problems. What a coincidence it was, that you couldn’t sleep either. I was walking around the hotel where we stayed and found you sitting under the stairs. It’s been many years now, but the memories of what we talked about still make me smile. I fell in love with your personality once again. Your words, your laugh and your boisterous confidence, they overwhelmed me and I couldn’t imagine myself being with anyone other than you. But there was one problem Denola, I was with someone who wasn’t you.

 

Denola do you remember?

It took you three years to admit what you wanted, but Denola don’t you think that was too late? I had a boyfriend you know? He was great. But you came into my life once again. You made me question reality and pulled me into your life of F Scott Fitzgerald, Maya Angelou and all the wonderful writers who made your eyes glisten when you spoke. I had realized, that I would drop everything and anything for you.

 

Denola do you remember?

It was a rainy Saturday night and you took me to go see a movie. You held my hand at the back of the cinema and you told me you loved me for the first time. Im sorry Denola, but I was just a girl and you were matured far beyond your years, I was scared Denola, and that is why I walked away asking “can you hear yourself?”. Till today Denola, I regret uttering those words. If I could take them back, I would. But Denola, it is what it is.

 

Denola do you remember?

Our first kiss Denola, the seasons changed, it was late at night and both of us walked the hallways, we held hands and you sang ‘I want crazy’ by Hunter Hayes which I forced you to learn, I will never forget how terrible your voice sounded, you were hitting all the wrong notes but it made me feel ontop of the world. Suddenly, you stopped me and held me in your arms—and then you kissed me.

 

Denola do you remember?

All those evenings we spent walking aimlessly on the street, my hand in yours, talking about everything and nothing. They were the most amazing moments. I felt safe, and for a long time, I would look forward to those walks.

 

Denola I don’t think you remember this……

Because you never saw it. Denola she was my friend! You had changed Denola, although still the beautiful misfit I fell in love with, you had picked up traits from the boys you used to hang with. Denola you had become like them, you had started to want everything other boys wanted. The moment I realized that Denola, I cried, because I was thankful I got out while I still could.

 

Do you know Denola?

You influenced me in ways I never thought possible, you taught me to love the beautiful things of the world, the places, the people, the music. I began to write, I began to listen to good music, I began to read, I had become a free force of nature, sampling the wonders of life. You taught me passion, you showed me intense emotion. Love, Happiness, even pain. You taught me to embrace it. And so I did.

 

Do you know Denola?

That you are my yard stick, the unit in which I have measured all my other lovers. I can not say all my relationships after you had been rosy, but I do know using you as my yardstick has definitely thinned the herd. A lot of them never understood me the way you did, they never made the effort. They did not understand that I didn’t want good, I didn’t want good enough, they couldn’t understand I wanted that ‘can’t sleep, can’t breathe without you love’. A lot of them didn’t have the depth that you did.

 

Denola do you ever wonder?

What if we had met years later, I mean way later. When I had become a woman, old enough to reciprocate the kind of love you showed me. When we could shut the world out and just be us.

But look how far we’ve come Denola, I still call you, whenever I get my heartbroken by just another guy, and you always tell me “If I ever meet the bloody idiot, I will kill him” . You listen to me rant for hours about how he didn’t do this, or did that and then you would tell me that I deserved better. Yes, Denola, we do, that is why, we beat on, boats against the current, in search of our own greater perhaps.

 

art, Love, poetry

xx

Endi stared out from her overpriced college dorm room, she had cried so much she had no more tears in her, so she just stared. Jon Bellion played loudly from her laptop and her neighbors had yelled “Turn down the volume Endi!” but she didn’t care. Her whole world had been unraveled before her eyes yesterday.

She told her self she was never going to leave her room ever again. Then her phone rang. Nkem, her friend called but she just let it ring, getting used to the rhythmic iPhone ringtone.

 

 

The seven am alarm rang and Endi opened her eyes. For a brief moment she was at peace, not recalling the events of the past two days. But then suddenly it hit her, she realized she had slept off on the ground clutching his old dog tag to her chest. She checked her phone and found three voice mails; one from her mom, one from Nkem and one from Osi her other friend. She wasn’t going to call anyone back, she needed more time alone —and then she saw a text from Ore which she replied:

xx

 

And so she sat there and she screamed and she cried for hours.  She picked up her phone so many times in an attempt to text him, to beg him to take her back but each time, she found a reason not to.

She knew this cycle would not end, so she deleted his number, unfollowed him on social media and cried some more. She re-read their last conversation for the fiftieth time, hoping she miss read it. “It’s over.” She kept on reading that part as if it was going to change. But deep down she knew they were done for good this time.

 

By noon she was numb once again, she told herself he had left because she was not as beautiful as other girls, couldn’t do the things other girls could, she had somehow managed to convince herself that she was a lesser person, that she was broken, damaged and unlovable—and that was the reason he left, she began to tell herself that she was lucky he even stayed for as long as he did, that he put up with her bullshit for over a year but time had ran its course and her fairytale had come to an end.

 

Several lonely hours had passed and it was evening now, she had gotten tired of crying, she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days and she felt like she was falling ill, as she stared into the darkness she realized feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to do her any good. So she took his dog tag and locked it somewhere she wouldn’t be tempted to look for it—then she did something she hadn’t done in a while. She got on her knees and talked to God. She cried to him, begged him, to make her forget her pain, to help her grow into the woman she desired to be. One who would grow in Christ, who would live a happy life, with no regrets.  And then she realized he left because he couldn’t understand that she was this enigmatic, dynamic whirlwind that just couldn’t be understood, she always had several strong emotions that rolled up into her personality and not everyone could handle that and that was fine– it was then she knew that she would be fine, maybe not that day, but eventually she would be okay.

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A piece by Ekpeju Ogbemi.

art, God, Love, poetry

/I/-/JE/

/I
I’ve loved and I’ve lost,

I looked beyond the pines,

I thought I had, I thought I was full,

But that was just an illusion.

Brought about by my selfish thoughts,

I guess I wasn’t as good as I thought,

I guess life after all wasn’t a bed of roses but a long chain of challenges, an unbreakable cycle.

—–

I wanted to be more,

I wanted more,

But it was never enough,

It’s never enough,

For the more you get, the more you want and the more you need.

I used every rule, every trick, in the book of life and yet it wasn’t enough, I wasn’t able to control it, I lost myself, I lost it.

—–

I found hope though in the smallest parts of my humanity,

In the thought of making heaven,

In the thought of being with you,

In the thought of finding myself,

In That single thought, I found hope,

I found my self,

And with my last breath, I’ll hold on to it.

I will.
/

art, poetry

Seeking Touch:The Writers Edition (OZ2)

This intense poem is by a brilliant Writer and Poet, Ozioma Iheagwam.

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Feel free to check out her first post here.

 

Thoughts Of A Caged Tiger.

This is the situation. Thou shall escape. From the clutches of society, from the human expectations of family, from the meaningless goals of friends, from the mediocre wants of the body and soul, from the perceived normality of reality.

I have stirred a little in my sleep, amnesia is now a known force, I have a little bit of control, a little bit of understanding of my adaptive unconscious and it has created a monster.

A monster determined to be set free, to travel, to create beauty, to live, to learn, to create beauty, to live, to learn, to appreciate, to discover the true meaning of being alive, of having a heart beat, of falling in love with all of who I have become.

 

Ozioma Iheagwam.

Hi,  I’m 18 and I like to write because it’s exhilarating, and gives me an outlet to create.

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art, poetry

Seeking Touch: The Writers Edition (Oz)

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Carpé Diem

 

Carpé Diem,
She said.
Get off your feet,
Feed your spiritual substantiality.
The end is almost
Coming to an end,
The truth has been brushed aside.
The demons have taken
Seats of high positions
The angels rot in graves.

Carpé Diem,
She said.
Throw away your bed
Feed your intellectual substantiality
The beginning has almost
Began.
Your competition has gone ahead.
You have crushed yourself
Under the rock,
The rock of worry.
You are never getting up,
Are you?
Carpe Diem indeed.

 

A poem by Ozioma I.

Hi,  I’m 18 and I like to write because it’s exhilarating, and gives me an outlet to create.

Feel free to check out her WordPress blog here.

 

Processed with VSCO

 

poetry

Seeking Touch: The Writers Edition (M2)

Another beautiful poem by Marioo .

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I saw him crying
In the dark area of the hallway
How odd it all was
Heartbreaker, cassanova
He was tagged as the emotionless type
Heartless,wicked, asshole, jerk
Those were synonymous with his name
My good angel popped on my shoulder asking me to stretch out a helping hand
Would have ,but for the time he made my best friend cry
“I didn’t even like her ” was his reply to me asking why,
Why he had hurt her so bad
I guess its karma
I walked away
Unknown to me the battle he keeps fighting that has proved here to stay
His father walked out on him
His mother doesn’t care
And now his grandma who’s proved mother,father & grandmama is on her death bed there’s only so much he can cope with
Fear of attachment, fear of loss, fear of emotion.

I walk into the bathroom, i hear sobs behind the stall
I see lily’s bag
I roll my eyes, appalled
Nasty, rude, cruel,superior
Wonder who taught her how to cry
I was definitely not going to saddle myself with why
I mean she’s so mighty and high
She can help herself
I carried my bag and walked out
Not knowing she was crying her eyes out
Her father beats her, makes sure she knows she’s not worth anything
Good for nothing
She’s insecure and broken
She doesn’t like to go home
She’s lashing on everyone
How to love? She’s never known

If i had said a word to Sam
If i had given lily a listening ear
Their broken little hearts would have found solace
And their world would be a better place
Me who knows of love
Me who values attachment
I should be a love spreader, a wound healer, a friend
There would have been a change if i had just stretched out my hand
“Be kind to unkind people, they need it the most ”
Easier said than done, I know
But do it and see people grow.

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Hi I’m Marie and I’m 17. I write to vent, to express myself and also because it’s amazing when I get to put my soul on paper.

A poem by Marie O xx.

 

art, poetry

Seeking Touch: The Writers Edition (M).

This amazing poem is by my very own, Marioo .

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Dear young boy
You’re scared you’re frightened
You want to cry
But the look on your aunty’s face “aren’t you a boy”
Makes you hold back the tears and cry at night.
You want to talk to daddy
You want him to teach you to play
But daddy’s always busy
Forgets your birthday
Dear teenage boy
You’re sad you’re frustrated
You’ve learnt that you cant cry
You’ll be rediculed & you cant even tell people why
Daddy beats you the slightest chance he gets
To express his frustration that you’re growing up
All you want to do is laugh with him
But he’s preoccupied with his knowledge and prestige
Dear newly turned adult boy
You’re a little hopeful
That as you’re now older
Maybe you’ll be enough for him
Maybe he’ll finally want to know what’s going on with you
Come to your room to talk things through
Share your views opposing or same
Argue them out and reach an equal ground
But he sees your opposing views as challenging him
He’s angered that you don’t think with his brain
His lack of love seeps through his words and actions
The hope you had increases the pain
Dear man
You’re indifferent & emotionless you don’t have any more hopes of a relationship with him
You don’t expect him to call
You wouldn’t know what to say, it’d be awkward
You never learnt how to love
Just pain, you were thought that expressive love is not for a man
The man you wanted to guide you through
Never took your hand
You’re grown now with no clue how to guide
Dear father
You’re lost and confused
You decided to do what your father did
Beat him up when you’re frustrated
Leave him to grow up alone
Your views are the only ones worthy of being known
Please remember the pain you went through
He is your son
We have to end this vicious cycle
Don’t let him hurt the way you did
Please please teach him how to love as he should.

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Hi I’m Marie and I’m 17. I write to vent, to express myself and also because it’s amazing when I get to put my soul on paper.

A poem by Marie O xx.

Love, poetry

Simple et Doux.

Simple and Sweet:                                                                                                                                                    She’s the definition of beautiful,
Her smile sophisticated yet simple,
The sweet smell of her hair,
Glitter in her eyes.

Nothing compares to the feel of her lips on mine,
The magic she brought with her wherever she went,
Being able to attract the attention of everyone and everything around.
And so I ask myself, “is this normal ?”
“Does she know what she does to me ?”

Feeling this way,
Oh! what a blessing and a curse to feel so much,
I could never explain it.

She is like the feeling you get when reading a good book.

A good romantic book.

But, She’s more,
Oh, She’s more.

She’s simple..

Simple and sweet

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