He Won't Bend - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 144: HE WON'T BEND

It's easy to tell the bereaved how not to cry

when the death of his loved one is your design.

It's easy to hush the hungry kid

and deny him his sweet biscuit

when in your hand is that same whip

that flogged his father to his grave.

You tell him, 'look, you can't be brave'

He shrinks,

He sighs,

He paints the sky with teary eyes

and wonder why father couldn't break your arms.

It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,

When this beaten son is feeling infernally mortal;

when it’s ten against one,

and hope there is none,

When he casts the chips down,

and dance the dance

Buckle up!

This little soldier shall charge at you

with placards and a fiery plea

Even your whip, though flung at him,

Shall toughen his skin and feed his will

With that same craving lions have for flesh.

He may not survive your envious whip

But he won't bend to your whim

No he can't.

He'll bring you down
six feet below his father

- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

#365DaysOfPoetry

#Pengician

#SSA

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shy, a poem

bashful, timid, quiet. shy If anyone you know has used these terms to describe you, you're probably a bit shy. Everyone feels that way once in a while. Shyness and social anxiety are common, no matter how old you are. There is one myth about social anxiety and social anxiety disorder that I would like to dispel. The myth says that social anxiety is just exaggerated shyness. This myth encourages the idea that anxious people are merely weak-willed pushovers. It is partially because of this myth, I think, that well-intentioned people offer the relevant but insensitive and patronizing advice like, “Don’t worry about it!” , “Just do it” and “Face your fears.” Thinking on all these, I wrote this poem: shy when a shy person speaks, it's like music from guitar strings. when a shy person smiles, it’s like the sun coming out when a shy person steps out it's like the uncommon visit of gods when a shy person reclines it feels like moon eloped from night when a shy person is 'i

Dustbin And Drafts - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 142: DUSTBIN AND DRAFTS He was the night sky, She was a star, Always together, Never one. He wrote what he felt for her of how her twinkles light up his dark. But they never get to her. One more note was added in his drafts. Fragrant pens and beautiful poems Pink papers and artistic handwriting. She wrote about the beauty in his black of how they make her twinkles shine. but they never got to him. Only the dustbin knows how much she loves him - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Leah Shabiru - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

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