A Civil Servant cum Brand Consultant with a Passion for Change through the act of writing more »
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Omolola David Poems
My life, A Mirror of Many Antagonism A Believe in Deception Rooted in love surrounded by Thorns
A Chick in a River.
So tiny was I. Happy could I remember Forgetting my hen And accepting to be a duckling.
The day is new With lots to spit out With all characters borrowed Surprise suppressing the silent lamb
The Other Side
I live with almost all but nothing yet lacked Yet I haven't enough. Took the best from the best
I Meet Billy
Along the narrow path Seeth, but a few. A desert with prints A zone coated red.
Many times I wonder How life seem to put one asunder Leaving one but a wanderer In a world of many blunders.
I Miss My Baby
I miss my baby, My precious jewel My inestimable companion of priceless pearls One with whom lies my heart without fear
Mirror Of Deceit
Before them I stand With nothing but praises and accolades My heart fills with pride With great sense of the aisle bride
Oh Mother Of Mine
She’s beautiful So beautiful she is Like the crown of the royals Like the garment of Zeus
Letter to Kabbite
Great was my dream As I saw life as an endless stream Flowing with obstacles inconsequential Nevertheless within our world of many consequences
Darkness falls upon the Earth An eclipse in the Break of Dawn A rain of universal tears With Blood on Dance Floors.
WHERE DO WE STEER
Life they say is Short with many leaving as each day passes To live is to Fear But not to live is to be Foolish
Within my little world lies my little self Confused and pursued Running aimlessly with no defense With just one question that has no face
Letter To Tola
I write not because it's what I want to do, Rather, this is what I must do. I write not because there's nothing else to say, But because you're everything I ever prayed.
Comments about Omolola David
(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)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Mirror of Many Antagonism
A Believe in Deception
Rooted in love surrounded by Thorns
Beautiful it may seem
But Beyond anyone can see
Lies the fallacy of their visual scenes
Embedded in fear
Yet surrounded by flair
With uncertainty not so fair
Its a Shadow of what I Feel
A Mirage of what they See
Yet, an Irony of what we all Perceive
Though not my Picture
Yet my Future
A Paradigm shift into Confusion
My life is defined by the Things I do
Yet the Things I beg ...