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Could this be love

Could this be love, I crave all day,
Could this be love, to know your ways,
You are an egg and Roses on tray
If this is love, I need no pay…
But push harder for more time play.

Could this be love that makes me pray?
For you to look my eyes that sways
Could this be love, no words to say
But fantasies that misbehaves
To a point we lay by a grave.

Could this be love that turns me lame
Eachtime my wax burnout of flame
Seeing your face, hearing your name…
Could this be love, sugar with pain
Brain so crazy, simple and plain.

Title: Could this be love
Author: Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
© 2017, Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Form: 8-8-8-8-8
Lines: 15 lines

Ghazal: Never love me (1)

To a lady who
Should never love me

I understand you;
You understand too

I once had
A message for you.

It’s really so hard;
My eyes rained so bad

Eachtime but
You failed to listen.

You never love,
… You never loved me.

I threw the fingers;
I made lot of signs

Demonstrating
A love so true…

I longed to tell you;
I really loved you,

But then you were
So deaf to hear.

You never love
… You never loved me.

Vinz (2017)
(C) Vinpoetry.wordpress.com

To a lady who should… NEVER LOVE ME.

#16 lines: Inestimable

She is an erratic princess
A beauty never witnessed,
A sporadic soft babe
Not meant for any Abe.

She is an intermittent lady,
A wonder in the galaxy.
Uncommon, none can pay
She shines at night and day.

She is an inestimable stone,
Precisely a treasure to own.
Hating her kills a star,
Loving her pretty scar.

She is a strain of gorgeous
Her beauty is so intense,
Scarce and raw intelligence
Inestimable is her existence.

Isioma

Photograph of Isioma Rachel Asiwe

She is a rose of all colors
Her cute small nose exhale diamonds.

A pretty blue African Lily
Hypnotic, sedative blue-angel.

She is a gold to hold not fold
Sweet pleasure with a good measure.

She is an African, hometown babe
Someones dish crush, everyones good wish.

Fox and honey, fine like money
She is a naugthy sweet hottie.

She is a stunner, love smasher
A patootie peach, breezy beach.

Tasty man trap, a weed to wrap
Ravish lulu, cute magician.

She is a Deltan, Ika born babe
Good head, Isioma is her name.

Tragedy of Jon and Mel

Room quiet as a graveyard
Clock ticking in loud sound
Even the water from the taps
Drop echoing reoccurrences.

Jon was caught up in a mood
To cuddle someone he adores;
Mel was his floor and flood
Queen of his heart, he applauds.

The windy weather was wet
Honey cold and cozy he felt;
He drove to a pharmacy store
Procured pills for fun not flaw.

Zooming in the counts of five,
He got back home early alive
Dinner, his flat stomach wish
To eat, so he prepared a dish.

Bunch of roses Mel had got
Last two fridays, that just past
Added a romantic fragrance
To a song playing background.

Ecstasies grew, on the phone
He reminded her of the plan;
She jeered in reassurance
She will be home, hot by six.

Reclining, stretching pills
He drank in anticipations
Singing and lighting candles,
Dressing the kingsize bed.

Few hours after, he redialled
her number, at the other end
of the telephone, Mel ran into
a van and didn’t make it through.

Tick… tick; time ran so fast
In foil, Jon waited for hours
With several swallowed pills
All night long, by the bluebells.

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