Teazhy's Pen

A SEQUEL TO YESTERDAY BY OLUWAKAYODE TAIWO Tomorrow is a dreary sky , darkened the rays of my forthcoming sun, The altitude, form and thickness of the clouds, become factors affecting the cooling of my Earth. Tomorrow is a twisted roadmap, Full of faint track, nocuous path, and a tricky trail, It sometimes thrills or scares my paces, It's a route of rough road and rugged transit. Tomorrow is an elusive phantasm, Presents to my eyes, my mild mind, and my saint soul, A future of fortuitous events or imaginative fortunes, Dreams of wishful thinking or life of desperate changes. Tomorrow is a rainbow of possibilities, Presents to my eyes, my mild mind, and my saint soul, A sensory overload of beautiful colors, Passionate love or danger-bearing emotions, Days of joy or overwhelming periods of sorrow, Years of success, or deadly durations of failure. Tomorrow is an unseen paradise, Presents to my eyes, my mild mind, and my saint soul, A home full of bliss, peace and delight,

(A SEQUEL TO YESTERDAY BY OLUWAKAYODE TAIWO ) Tomorrow is a distant feather Crowned in her shadow She propels my bullet in a starlike shape She twitters in my ears like a mistral When I face the North from the South She perches at the West. Tomorrow is a pregnant elephant in her barrenness She breastfeeds my hands With her dry and gushing milk She howls at chance The end could be the pride of her neighbor. Tomorrow is a Shakespearean poet She paints her lines in colours Deep from her Greekish heart She rattles Greeks to my ache. Tomorrow is the active baker of my bread She pampers my lips in suspense My teeth may kiss themselves in pleasure My face may squeeze into my trusted tray. Tomorrow is an itinerant peddler The street is not even her home She toils my sweat in a circle But only to spread the diminution of yesterday. Tomorrow is a shapeless mirror She feeds me not with my own shadow But her face will always show the fate of my faith. © Dominic Achile

Heaven is a four storey building I heard how is afterlife and how are you my dear? life is horrible we know, is heaven horrible too? is the life you live up there a stem or a root? tell me about things you do up above there Is there a frowning sun or a smiling moon? Did your soul left with you or it's in your body? Is heaven a studio or you just have nobody! Nobody to call on when friends cry a river did you get sick; like malaria, headache or fever? Granny said heaven is a replica of this earth Is it true or her guess is just a mysterious mirth? Dear Larry,Big Dad and those we pour sand  is heaven a whitish fog or just an earthy land This letter is to know how you are feeling Is there a room up there with slate and ceiling?. A day would come when I'll die like you too will I get an apartment with bed and tv too? Did you look down to see us miss you at night? Did you regret your wrongs and wish they were right? When we die friends cry for week or month but the grief expired so

Yesterday Yesterday is blue begonias Planted in a purple vase beside my window Yesterday is a smiling moon in the sky It's a stainless cone on an empty shelf where there's an empty poems and prose to write, to read and to show dramatic lines. Yesterday is a lonely highway the road that leads to the lands of regret It's an artist with a quill, a board and colors Yesterday is a broken canvas, shattered dreams  a bent pine tree where birds sit carefree. Yesterday is the rumbling wave of the deep blue sea  a milestone founded under the long bridge where street children are tattered rags whirled by winds Yesterday is brown, pink, maroon and white It is an iroko tree where I was told a ghost lived where vultures took a turn to eat the dead Yesterday is the reggae song granny puts on repeat It is the thud of Mama's feet on blank nights when electricity is like fallen London bridge. Yesterday is a calendar, a date and a number It is a pallid gown worn by a trooping ghoul Yeste

If the rhyme of black is back slack and crack will work with clack if bat is said to be rhymed with cat matching heart and hat is not perfect chat don't take glow to match a stroll  when there's droll, scroll and roll why will you rhyme fold with coal have you forgotten foal and also goal? don't rhyme deep with pimp when there's sleep  end rhymes if not carefully used might bleep  and the poem will become a black sheep grief is not a perfect partner for give but thief and chief can allign with brief even though end rhyme is so common and there are some cheats we can summon to make it perfect you need something common common in words, spelling rhythm and sound like bound, ground, pound, found and round try to repeat these words twice or thrice rice, dice, mice, nice, slice and spice can you feel the rhythm in your tongue how it sings ding ding ding with no dung? poetry is a honey when the rhyme is clean  to the readers it'll be like a fitted jean pronounce the word o

A night like this is an umbrella covering my shuddering feelings,  feets and frozen eyes too  as green coffee's smells draws a boundary line to sleep and Me whilst your loose violet pyjamas  swings lifelessly on a rope behind the wall filling the air with vanilla smells of your skin and reviving the lost egos we both purchase.  A night like this is an evening breeze  brushing my memory of you in a subway  making it swings and fly in the wind with thought of feeling the warmth of your hands on mine once more as we plant a happy smiles on our cheeks cruising around our right and wrongs.  A night like this is like Lagos traffic that fills the air with hoots and honks lousy noises and profusing sweats for me to remember the uncertainty  we both ride through  when coming up with different views as we howl at each other like a hungry wolf yet, we'd cuddle before dawn.  A night like this is like a springboard  to days our heart meltdown and the fire burning in our skin