Writers XXXIX, di Stephen O Amadi | poesie, saggi e racconti nel Poeticous

Stephen O Amadi

Stephen O Amadi

Writers XXXIX

When you

Are young

You

Could

Only

Write what

You feel

And see

And it

Will

Overpower

Nothing

But when

You are old

You could

Write death

At the feet

Of experience.

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Cory Garcia

Stephen O Amadi

Altre opere di Stephen O Amadi...

Atleast I Have love For something That is not secured

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Unforgotten memory

What more can you ask for? A momentum memorial of my art you… Or a possibility of the future of… Through my words you will ever rem… I will leave the lake and the seas…

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Night in the dark

A night in the dark with the crick… Undefined moaning of flashy eyes c… The hatching of egg sound with pie… From a very tall stripped tree, The moon and the stars paints;

I call you Art Beautiful, interesting Expressive, talented And yet so delicate.

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If I Could Sleep In My Dreams

If I could sleep in my dream; Gazing lightly with my brow for a… When the snowy candles begins to w… I would sleep in peace for million… Knowing my sight will become blue…

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I don’t try too hard They can’t help Enough but loosen Their shacks and Jump down from their

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Midsummer Night

Is that still you sitting on a bul… Or am i just dreaming, maybe Not a bull after-all or is it a ho… Am i just whinnying, Is that the end of the road

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Close your eyes What do you see? Light Or darkness They are as bad as Each other, too

I write when am lonely When the world is at its Wicked peak, I write when am scared When the thunder is kissing

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8

My engagement speech

To the SS What do we call love? We would call love war Because our passions raw, We would call love friends,

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Things you don’t have to be to do

You don’t have to be in distress t… Just like you don’t have to breath… You don’t have to be tall to leap You certainly don’t have to be sho… You don’t have to be loud to sing

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I do not write my poetry for no-on… And every dawn, i do not reason wh… —On about mystic my work chaperon… Mystic is me but with more time yo… You will break the mystery and lea…

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I read a lot of Bukwoski Drunk And spitting words on Paper, And a little of Oliver

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I was born anew and i was born now… strongly at me with my tiny hands… ceased to cover my face, leer at all this creature lingerin… and delighted am free.

Tell me the verse this may be And let all lye in thoughts Of what you or i may get Or beg out of life, Life of deceits and a freshly new…

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