Poetry: A Song I Never Wrote

In my mind it plays
Humming silently for days
Mind, hand, pen and paper contravene
Maybe they settle under morning rays

As events unfold
Memory mind holds
Words come to form
Eyes closed to bask
Imagery the norm
Distant chirp, warm
Honking horns, serene
Leaves in alphabet mask
Muse can’t be contained in a cask
Still wouldn’t flow
Again I gaze beyond the screen
Tall short trees yellow and green
Woe tales, sad, mournful rites bestow
Words disappear like melted snow

In my mind it plays
Humming silently for days
Mind, hand, pen and paper contravene
Maybe they settle under morning rays

Hijab Gurl
========================
I could write you a song
About right and not wrong
But my thoughts would disappear
If sincerity won’t come along

A song i never wrote
Is a song I’ll never write
About war, hate and the darkness in daylight
About animal diseases caused by human faeces.
I hear stripes are earned from jail sentences
And jail birds are pardoned without clemency
How language is the weapon of a native
Struggling to hide her shame in a casket
How truth is washed up by the rain
Yet cannot produce a single grain.
About countless journeys traveled on the tracks of my palm
Seeking firm grips in abandoned buildings
And how knuckles only see their cracks in their freedom
While forgetting that pain is how a fist is formed.

I could write you a song
About right and not wrong
But my thoughts would disappear
If sincerity don’t come along

LEON
========================
The lyrics I always had
The voices of my words,sound bad
The walls of my pen’s throat’s badly cracked
Over working my song. How sad.

This song tied an ashobi
Round the neck of
I will one day write a song abi?
The possibility didn’t seem tough
Cause what will be,will be.
In the voice of I must write a song
No matter how long
I kept my promises of procrastination strong
Right there I never saw any wrong
In writing a song I never wrote.
Cause just like any other
It is also called a song.
So I wrote a poem
That ended with a song I never wrote.

The lyrics I always had
The voices of my words,sound bad
The walls of my pen’s throat’s badly cracked
Over working my song. How sad.

Bang wan.
========================
Many poems I have written
stories that are unforgotten’.
This is a song I never wrote
in my dearth, it leaves me beaten

Do you not hear my beating drum?
It does not hang loose like a thrum
Listen with your heart, feel its beat
let your feet leave the ground-stale plum.
The guitar accompanies it
your ears, heart, soul feel the heat
burning in these words that I wrote
look in deeply, enjoy this treat
of music that turned into words
so it heals your death with ripped chords.
Do not let this page slip your sleep
for your eyes are from many cords.
When this was written it whistled
into notes and lyrics of you.

Many poems I have written
stories that are unforgotten’.
This is a song I never wrote
in my dearth, it leaves me beaten

Rudolph Ruddapoet
=========================
For sure was not told
To leave me in the cold
Where should I go?
To my land full of gold?

To the pages I failed to read
Nor the song my heart fails to sing
Can this piece make up for the diss?
Diss-tance I created between the pen and piece
Forgive me if your lyrics reeked of laziness
I just wanted an easy path to greatness
So I feasted on lack and pain
The only audience who knew you was my intestine
They respond to every chord humming Oh oh oh
To the song I never wrote
The grave will rock the boat
The dust will speak but no one will heed
In seconds it fails to cleave
The name will leave

For sure was not told
To leave me in the cold
Where should I go?
To my land full of gold?

Rachel Charles
=========================
Your chorus is sung in silence
Muted with the knob of inhumane experience
The words I dreamt I wrote, the same I forgot
Your non-existent verse is written in the ink of violence

Blood oozing from the north
Tears flooding from the south
Somewhere in the middle in the confluence.
Puss collecting from the west
Bad blood budding in the east
Somewhere in the middle is the point of convergence.
Your borders were caved wrong
Your anthem is still unsung
The center bleeds like a heart with a hole
The hearts that conceived you are a fraud
The hands building you are corrupt and flawed
Every brick laid leads back to the foundation.

Your chorus is sung in silence
Muted with the knob of inhumane experience
The words I dreamt I wrote, the same I forgot
Your non-existent verse is written in the ink of violence.

Tee2emm
========================
Should i sing about the coffin boy?
My words stabbed him, no joy
For i sang about my interment
How I’ll leave the waters coy

Merging with their fluid form
My fleshy parts becoming watery dusts
Raw to algae and effervescent
Fizzy with freedom
Little darling boy,
Your craft sway me
Your oblong boxes tempt me
When they ask you where i lay
You’ll spread your hands across waters
Motes of me everywhere
Reminding you of soul eccentric
Telling how i sought freedom
Even at the hands of death,
I hate the idea of boxes

Should i sing about the coffin boy?
My words stabbed him, no joy
For i sang about my interment
How I’ll leave the waters coy…

Omolola Onigbinde

================================

Through the cracks in your heart
I hear the footsteps of trust depart
Let me show you beautiful colours
Fireworks, rainbows, dreams that shoot like a dart!

I love you, you said
I miss you, you said too
Come let me hold you, let me dry your tears
Love and more you offered me
We held hands, we sang songs
We roamed the solitary highlands
And swore to the earth
That our kisses tastes of heaven
Watching you leave is a song
But not one that I wrote
Your sobs gently breaking
Is music for imps and ghouls
I love you, I should have wrote
long before you read the lies in his eyes

Through the cracks in your heart
I hear the footsteps of trust depart
Let me show you beautiful colours
Fireworks, rainbows, dreams that shoot like a dart

OracLe

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