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Agboyi Felix Poems
The waters are now raging and the land is fruitless. The hoer hoes only stones. The grave is not a sweeter post. Tell me, tell me the reigns are not by corpes,
The cry of the unknown, is abominable to the untold. That face you see,
In Arms With Life
To spring throuh day-night frost is a twisted ladder, that in view, plays on in awkwardness much an awry soul. A ladder with torns, where to step? In fretful dreams, I dream a triumphal vindication.
My Neighbours In Green
Plea To Nature
Nature, long have I trampled your labor, knowing the verdant beauty of your hands, I still look down your reign. even in civilization, I destroy your virginal purity.
I Dream My Friends
To The Bottle Liver
I despite you not, the bottle liver. Nor do I treasure your talent too.
If You Could
If you could hold within visions, and embrace tomorrow's shadow, at glimpse of ambience, what faith then holds for the poet?
He Lives A Stranger
Through variant ways, he leads his own way. Man on the street, in dirty apron rags,
A Bitter Pleasure
Unflown Ink Within
Comments about Agboyi Felix
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
The waters are now raging and the land is fruitless.
The hoer hoes only stones.
The grave is not a sweeter post.
Tell me, tell me the reigns are not by corpes,
and the seasons allied will bear witness.
What gain 's 't then, if slayed for?
We who know all the goods, but know not the good of being good,
tell me, tell me the mournful voices are seizing
and the cries of bitter sobs will come in messages.
This restless era boosts too much a chaotic seed.
The souls are dead, long gone, sublimed in the acts of crucibles.
Farther than, we've travelled, in lost, ...