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My gold

Gold

If you were the rod
Straight, bent or round
Your shades will be gold.
Never you look down,
Walking down the road
None should make you fold.

You are the King’s crown
Better than silvers
And copper made bronze..
Don’t be misled
By social values
You worth more than those.

Silvers may reflect
The rays of sun light
But you are their fright.
A gold dust same as
Mega tonnes of diamonds
Sparking under light…

You are not an iron
So common in town,
Nor dark shades that rust.
You are not a wood
A bug food that rots;
You are made of gold.

Heavy, light or thick,
You are not a steel
Prone to fatigue.
You are the premium
Superior to all
Yellow shade to hold.

Prologue : Nostalgia

I once had a painting
Giga-shades of adoring;
In a familiar surrounding…
Scrawling and crawling,

It was an hallmark glory
Of my sweet untold story;
In the years, I owned a lorry…
She was devil cute, but holy.

My crayons couldn’t surpass,
Her beauty wasn’t in disguise;
In the bittersweet of my past…
She was an art, a lady of class.

Sweet pretty face, with lashes,
Dark hairs, black to thickness;
In absence, was homesickness…
All boys longed for her fineness.

She is a diva, none can harass,
Well configured as a classic lass;
Innocent child, a righteous pass
She was like a visible colorless gas.

An uncommon beauty in class
Her fineness breaths new life
In nostalgia, she had hot sparks
That unfroze my ice-cold heart.

Prologue: Behind the glass

Photograph of Uchechi U.

The best thing
Is as fine as sin;
Behind the glass
Is a fantastic glance.

I wish to canvass
For her bee frass;
Behind the glass,
Ferried sugar bypass…

Without guns,
I made plans;
Behind the glass
I got a brass;

From the bullets
In daydreams
Behind the glass
Is a lady of class.

Prologue: Approaching

Photograph of Lola Oj by V. Collins

Approaching you
Was never a problem
But the sweet key words to say…

Accurate in any view;
Wish I ruled your realm
By despair, I admire you at the bay…

Attimes I saw us two;
Walking in my head, as same
But the realities were mine to pray…

Approaching you
Was never a problem
But the heavy no, that you might say…

Autumns brought you through,
Winter came; I passed a blame
By the moment you pass my way…

A drop of your dew
Water my woody phellem
Between God and man, you slay…

Approaching you
Was never a problem
But I was inexperience and dull as jay…

Attempts I made were few
With the way you bloom
Bet, in my dreams, you were my hay…

A great deal of holy jew
With soft lips of a kiss emblem
Blowing cool germfree air, so to say…

Approaching you
Was never a problem
But I wanted all faults to be a fay…

Awesome as new
Wave hot like ylem
Believe me, you are a cosmos clay…

Apparently moulded too
White eyes, you’re a golem
Bright and loveable all night and day…

Approaching you
Was never my problem
But how to properly handle your ray…

Prologue: School days

Back in school days
My best friends
And I;
Where the few people
Who knew
How much I admired you…

They would often
Make jokes of it
And I;
Knew it was no lie
That I
Had a soft spot for you…

But I was so scared
To man up and walk up
To you;
For you might say no
And worse,
Forever not look my way…

These were the assumptions
I made, back in school days…
To me;
You were the sun reservoir
To me,
You were a storeroom of stars..

I saw reflections in your eyes
I tried to resist forward push
From friends,
But; the magnet of adorations
In my heart,
Kept pushing me forward to you…

Tales Of A Wife: She Can’t Wait

she can't wait

she can’t wait

She is an accident of nature
Totally beautiful from head to toes
She once stood next to him
Things are certainly not as before
She can’t wait because he is not Bill Gate

This girls voice is still an organ in his soul
She knew his voice, the smell of his soul
That; that shines, no longer brightens their souls
She looks into the future with eyes of fear
The man she sees got Wills she thinks are mere wishes.

She just can’t wait
To join him complete his paintings
She doesn’t want
To be an old beautiful lady
Sitting next to him in a work of art.

Though all wives are married
Surely, not all married are wives
Tears on her eyes
She still looks into the future with eyes of fears
The truth she sighs, she just can’t wait.

written by: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka
© 2012
(D²rupoesy)℠ thetruepoesy™
https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

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