Poetry: Fridays | R2BsL
Keep my prayers warm
especially in the dawn of your evening.
Tell the rest, it’s time I rest
my bosom in between your legs
covered with alcoholic hairs.
It’s a turnover leaf for hangovers
cause I’ve got nothing to celebrate
Dear Friday.
My name is a scorn
a horrible taste of your cherry.
She beats the drums of Nkom’boti
when a little page of madness
wet my drunken words.
I will wield working weights
when you turnover to Saturday
in your diaries with fried days.
Ruddapoet
=======================================
After months of push comes a seed
For every beginning itself shall end
Nine to five, suits and ties, all that trend
Profits we seek, budgets we break, we need to feed
So we trade hours for boxes of greed
Betray joys for pennies to spend
Sit beneath foots for crumbs dogs to defend
Shivers to calls too quick to plead
Exhausted to strains we call the sun
For its day to shine we can afford
So slay the bored and raise the glass
Toast to life with gongs and flutes
Call a goon zoom to spots
Seek for hubs here to beyond
Where brains get calmed with drills of chills
Don’t forget to scream ‘thank God is friday’.
Bamvi
==================================
She I love
For she’s friendly and promising
Her face wears a pendant of hope
The one that fits the neck of the hopeless
Unlike her siblings She’s brief
Very playful and stress free
With lenses of love she gaze at all
For all she’s after is rest.
She I love
For she’s friendly and promising
Her face wears a pendant of hope
The one that fits the neck of the hopeless
Met her before the weekends
Hanging out with friends
A clique named Fridays
Having Fun like the first letter of their names.
Bang1.
================================
Once upon a time
Seven brothers lived
The first was aggrieved
He slept on trees because he loved to climb
The second was unsure
Needed the third to replace
He started slow and found a sore he had to cure
The third appeared with a different face
The fourth was just as miserable
The fifth had broken limbs and coughing pockets
He ended a vegetable
He lost his eye sockets
The sixth was the savior
He was a good way to die
The seventh hid his misbehavior
Wiped his soberness into blind eyes
Leon