Kolawole Emmanuel

Biography: A Nigerian SHORT STORY WRITER POEM RIDER AYORINDE EMMANUEL OLOWOEYO KNOWN AS "KOLAWOLE EMMANUEL WHATAPP: +2348113035689 THANKS YOU VERY MUCH PLEASE KINDLY RATE MY POEM THANKS YOU

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Kolawole Emmanuel
Thursday 5 January 2023

Reflection

Please criticize.........

I said those out of intention

Because am already dead proclaimed

----------------------

What a long rope of hope to cope with

hope : a long rope to cope with.

A rope too long to cope with.

All this point towards a point.


Sometimes,

Those dear to my heart

Will be the unwanted art,

Those I can't do without

Are my major cast-out.


It's a pity,

They are my perfection victim 

A thing of the past.


Sara

You stole my heart

On just a sight,

You make me speechless

With care excluding excess,

So nourishing to my soul

That I have to strife

To make you mine,

Though you don't concur to be mine.


Just last week

You told me;

"You are hot tempered"

That am not a true reformer

Co's I block you on this messenger.


Am so sorry dear

I can't keep you near.

To you ,am  attracted

To Jah , am distracted

I can't serve two master.


It's a pity

You are my perfection victim

A thing of the past.

.

.

.

.

.

Nifemi

Yellow like pawpaw

Everybody like pawpaw,

That why I want you

To make you my pawpaw.


Sincerely I love you

I remember those night, 

When our love is renewed.


Now,

Am so sorry dear

Not that am not fair,

But I have a master to fear

Cos he is more than dear.


It's a pity

You are my perfection victim

A thing of the past.

.

.

.

.

Dear kunle,

My bosom blossom friend

Our love has no trending end.

We are more better than Cain and Abel

United's than the sons of isreal.


Together we suck breast of  gentle trouble

Making our neighborhood continuously confused.


But I regret my actions.

Thanks for making me function in a mission

From a vision of eternal damnation.

Thanks for taking me on a journey

That makes me sting like honey.


It over between us

This ends our course

We are now different horse

I have to carry my cross.


It's a pity

You are my perfection victim

A thing of the past.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Dear henry,

a friend that we shit in the same pit

spreading the same sheet on a shit.

we vomit the same unpleasant product 

product that stink like a liquid from a used condom.


I remember those days.

When our parent and teachers cry when we cry

When tears of regret flows the eyes of regret-tiers

But we found joy in those tears,whenever they appear.


We are not meant to meet

We are cars of different fleet.

We are no more the same

Co's I am now dead ; proclaimed.


It's a pity

You are my perfection victim

A thing of the past



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