This Is Poetry Poem by Enoch Cole

THIS IS POETRY
FEATURING ENOCH COLE, IBRAHIM SORIE MANSARAY, EDEM FODEKA, PRINCESS WALTER, OREEOLUWA JOSHUA, WISDOM DANIEL, ESE OSE AND TAMBA JABBIE KENDEMA.

When Dawn ensued on men,
The Sumerian swords were ink and pen.
From beyond this era rose the journey,
Bureaucracies of endless literary army,
In dreadful allusion of ballads and histories,
Beyond visible shades and mysteries,
We've waited long for this day,
To celebrate poetry in a glorious way.
© IBRAHIM SORIE MANSARAY

I want to write.
But, my mind says it is not right.
To put my brains on a paper light.
Well, I didn't pick a fight.
I give it a thought over the night.
There, I know there is a plight,
Which would have been a fight,
That would have created a sight.
Meanwhile, I don't even have the might,
To stand any such fight.

Poetry clothes the world,
With words of adoration.
Poetry feeds the world,
With wisdom and knowledge.
Poetry has the key to literature.
Poetry is beautiful.
© EDEM FODEKA

Our hearts aches from the pummels of years gone before.

Our mouths are heavy with the same dreadful stories of woes.

Our eyes rove 360° round the shores,
But
We are surrounded by foes.

Our ears do not give consent, for our foes will do nothing but silence us.

The more we defer our story telling, the faster our pulse, our hearts quake with great tremor.

'Who will bail us? '
Mother earth must know of the cruel treatment meted out to her peaceful occupants.
Posterity must never forgive cruelty.
Retribution must perform it's prosecutorial duty.

'Who will bail us'? I ask again?
We must let our springs of anguish gush down the alleys of history.

Then our ten tiny fingers squeaked.

'I pledge!
I pledge to tell our stories of woes as awfully as I can.
I pledge to dance to the rhythm of your pulse, my dearest heart.
I pledge to go beyond the territories of the mouth.
I pledge to write till my tips bleed nothing but ink.
I pledge to tell our story to the Mayors of all cities.
I pledge to tell it to the royal children of England.
I pledge to make it a nursery rhyme for the puny children of Africa.
I pledge to smear every generation with the ink of our anguish, till history is unable to erode the stain of my ink.
© PRINCESS WALTER

Poetry: a specie of mystery.
Poetry: an eventuality occurring after the swerving round of not just another imagination, round about a scribbling Servant horizon's territory.
Poetry: volcano of thoughts erupted after an interesting, aught occurrence or scenery.
Poetry: the source of a conceived perculiar expression, the poetic ideas penned down to make them immortal.
Poetry: the factor through which bards muster their minds: a visual.
So if you're one: a poet, the sooner you captivate an inspiration, end the innocent Page's career,
And make poetry a proud mother.
© TALENTROCKS

Beautiful sync of words and quotes,
Symphonic blend of rhymes and sounds,
That tells the tales of love and war,
Or sings ballads of wondrous sights.
It tells us of the news of old,
And speaks of all the great creations,
It bears the pains and woes of history,
And bleeds it down in nursery rhymes,
It shares the burdens of dearest hearts,
In wisest words and deep knowledge,
Carrying along the messages,
Of broken hearts and sleepless nights,
Of broken trusts and bitter truths,
The solitudes and wandering souls,
The illusive charms and the white lies,
All penned down with the stain of ink,
This is the key to literature,
This is the art we call poetry.
© OREEOLUWA JOSHUA

Poetry our soul.
Poetry our hearts.
Poetry our emotions.
Feelings that can never be changed to express in words, with deep meaning.
Poetry our medicine that heals every broken hearts.
A powerful tool used in the diction of language.
A powerful genre of literature, showing the true nature of mankind.
© WISDOM DANIEL

I want to see a million things,
I want to touch a million hearts.
I want to express myself vividly through my art.
Poetry is a mirror to my soul,
A pathway through my concieved thoughts and desires.
Poetry is an instrument through which I convey my emotions.
My love for poetry will never wane,
The gift of this art is a heightened expression of love.
© ESE OSE

Poetry: a specie of mystery.
Poetry: an eventuality occurring after the swerving round of not just another imagination, round about a scribbling Servant horizon's territory.
Poetry: volcano of thoughts erupted after an interesting, aught occurrence or scenery.
Poetry: the source of a conceived perculiar expression, the poetic ideas penned down to make them immortal.
Poetry: the factor through which bards muster their minds: a visual.
So if you're one: a poet, the sooner you captivate an inspiration, end the innocent Page's career,
And make poetry a proud mother.
© TALENTROCKS

Being tyrannically imprisoned,
By my pen and sheet.
Just as did the Emperor of Rome to the seven sleepers.
Looting, inking and cementing varieties of perspectives,
Lyrically in rhythmical lines
Conconing oxymorous event joyously,
Bitter and sweet experiences
Defeats and triumphs,
Struggles and moments of glory,
To soothe my wretched literal soul.
Oh this genre called poetry!
You convey messages embroidered and shaped with lessons for folks to understand.
Disproportionately contributing to tell me stories.
Ones that give didactic virtues,
And tells me more about my genesis
As an immediate path, is how you've made yourself.
Transiting us to become better people,
And be that change we want.
How even can I portray you? !
Should I ascribe you as being the palliative of our weak morals? !
Are you too vegetative to be the fruit,
The fruit that soothingly soothings our minds? !
What if I assuredly describe you as the mother?
For thou art nurture our path in the realm of human existence.
This is poetry.
© TAMBA JABBIE KENDEMA

When the probability of this young lad with a blind - brightening star was all said and done,
To collapse in wonderment and attraction towards this genre, which once fallen in love with can't be armoured with bygone,
Though endowed with pessimism and doubt to ever find it interesting and amusing which could lay his find unimpressive feature on a lawn,
Then came interest, passion and love for this brand, never plead for an access to indulge the lad, it just had it's way like it used a threat gun.
Now this youngster is forever grateful for the delve, his ambience now for this field is an insane run,
Insane run of form, loving this genre to the point been one of it scribblers.
He's even a creator of the epic branch, sampling this precise work, words multiplication gilters.
I'm that lad, I end brills ink careers for fun.
This is poetry.
Though noto a gem wae get fans dem insai me contri,
Yet I asses it as a fantastic and magneficient view.
I loath eyeing it run down like a waste water from a flush pipe view.
I wanna slide it completely from that perspective many people now percept it, as faeces in a latrine.
Many folks no longer respect it's essential nor it's latin.
Above it flames I cook strategies and new genres just to restore it past glories.
I pen down like mad redefining poetry eachday through different stories.
I scribble consistently like making yummy fries, I wanna break marks.
What must I say of myself, poetry police?
Poetry scribbling junta, warch wae a dae extend threatening numbers to John Randal Bradburne.
Still far away, but it's only a matter of time before I dethrone him for most imaginative aftermath: poems.
Poetry is just my second to none, I trust it's process than girls.
Poetry will never lead to a number of brawls.
One love and knowledge to all those who love poetry,
Precisely those having helped this work to be a success.
This shows you're all really passionate, diehard and committed in constantly serving this tea.
I see poetry as there's always an obligation to write after an imaginative, event occurring and a beauty witnessing occurrence.
Poetry is power,
Poetry is life,
Poetry is an amused site,
Poetry is every brilliant feature you think there is.
© Talentrocks ✍️✍️🖌️🖌️