Leonell EchaS-E-P-T-E-M-B-E-R
And so on the 9th of SeptembER
The case broke to reveal this gendER
Thumb weak but graspIng like new eyes askIng
It sat still, still nothing so tendER
Then it moved and stopped and moved agAIn
Its eyes got clouded as if to rAIn
Then the sweat DROPS began to gain presence
Little it STOPS, but breathing in strAIned.
Then it went calm, its thumb had fallEn
On this 9th i saw it had no spleEn
And so in September, It found a life
But shutting It, was its story wIn. – Leon
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September! Yes, I remember yoU
You meant Christmas and everything nEW
We enjoyed the thrILLS and mom got the bILLS
On your sham bed of roses we grEW
You once had a smile, beautiful fACE
If year is a game, you were the ACE
Your beauty’s faDED what let to this change
All is shredDED from her ere fine fENCE
September, sad month to rememBER
Mom slipped off your hands into slumBER
It was a cold rainy sundAY morning
Now in dread I prAY better emBER. Tee2emm
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Those stories we made will find your EARS
according to books, that has your fEARS.
Nine after nine trUE words finally cUE
In September, let us find new gEARS.
In September, we had no more sun,
She lost her future, that only son
Her heart has become so cold like an ice,
Will hate now come, and take everyone?
I’ll hold no records from now till thEN,
September may just be on the pEN
to write about my story’s stAGE and phase.
It may be the AGE, egg lay a hEN. – Rudolph
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With the solemn air of an old nun
With the bold bravery of the hot sun
I tame time’s request of a needed rest
I am something of a proud wild Hun
Yet i was given a breathing fare
To see September burst in star flair
As i but plower through my gifted days
I feel the power in its lush flared
Days aglow of sweetness like a bee
Time hurries in a wet playful glee
All my days i could go on and walk, flee,
All times and on September be free.-Omolola
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Prisca; definition of pure gOTH
Stout as a bottle; clad in black clOTH
Her chest housed black lUNG and bad breath it flUNG
Her man does not mind, his name is JOTH.
Running southwards, minding time and lINE
The meaningless drift towards vain mINE
Like a slow ping pONG, this one sure does bore
Just like cow dUNG stain on my fine blIND
Hate is all a September is wORTH
Especially those born on the fOURTH
This will be such an empty lONG poem
Just like a tuneless sONG, I bring fORTH. Hybrid
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Evoke anger from this heart of mine.
Alot has happened but we still dine.
I remember you, I was one or two.
But we raise up our glasses of wine.
Oh it’s you our little September.
I can recount you in a number
Should have been fourteen but who even cares.
I’m still a teen in party slumber.
What’s it about you all in this year
Ticked on my diary but I just stare.
Still in few of your days Am steel, lost though.
Yet you are so real, and bring a tear. – Hypermind
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A story was once said of a bOY
Who murdered his only brother rOY
His birth caused CURSES to his mum’s NURSES
True confession it’s fiction; decOY
Another tale was told of a giRL
Born in a ninth month she called a huRL
She hated the FACT her mama was raped
September ACT as doom amidst pearls
Girls exist that hate the ninth month staRE
To others like you it comes with caRE
Anniversaries, weddings, SMILES it brings
But don’t forget MILES of pains still daRE.-Bamvy
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Waves of memories awake withIN
As i felt its hands stroke my left chIN
Slowly the wind thREADS, as its chill breeze spREADS
In a wild circle i real and spIN
Songs of September rides behind tIME
For now the squeaky school bells can chIME
Southern birds fly hOME, because the tides change
Run to this dOME, waiting begat crIMES
This is to hellos and goodbyes tOO
Tired of the old, time turns skies blUE
Blink back those awful pangs of tEARS away
Bar them in, be fIERCE and remain yOU. Vera
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These memories of long vacaTION
You sent to me,what’s your intenTION
You make me hAPPY,it feels so snAPPY
Tell me stories of your duraTION
Though better than December it’s clEAR
Putting on the jersey nine each yEAR
When will you come fIRST,it’s rhetorical
But i will bURST, if i am not chEERED
Counting a year without you can’t bE
This thought I write today just for thEE
You can make something out of thIS I’ll Box
For your lips I kISS,this theme from vEE. -Bangwan.
