Of Poetry And Rhymes - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 138: OF POETRY AND RHYMES

They laugh when I tell them I dislike free verse

because odes and rhymes in it are disperse.

This is my poetry, it cannot be worse

permit me or not, you don't fill my purse.

Forgotten how rhyming makes poetry on fleek?

A mic and a poet; oh what sweet music!

Such joy it brings when verses I ink

Tell me, why should I change it to a prose like thing?

If I take rhyme out of poetry everything goes wrong

It's like refusing sweetness and feasting on dung.

It's like erasing taste buds out of the tongue

Like shoving the melody out of a song.

Like taking the sound off onomatopoeia

or hunting bush meat with otapiapia.

Like telling horror tales that make children laugh

or ending this verse without making you laugh.

Like taking humour away from Nigeria

or removing Mecca from Saudi Arabia.

Like robbing a poor poet of his solitude

or saying Oha 'gainst Ogbono is better a soup.

You see how of no sense is poetry with a rhyme?

It makes poetry an unpleasant pepper spiced wine.

I'll always have my poems punctuated with rhymes

Always. Yes always, though it fetch me no dime

Like my Ugandan poet friend who believes page poetry ain't cool

you could write me off as a romantic fool,

but with the stubbornness of a Fulani mule

I'll always rhyme when poetry I spool!

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Glossary:

Fleek: Slang. (usually used in the adjectival phrase on fleek) flawlessly styled, groomed, etc

Otapiapia: A locally made insecticide.

Oha & Ogbono: Soups native to the Igbo people.

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- 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

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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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