Random Musings | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

I know the 'WHYs' that precede your tears:

Brace up, you're not the first!

I know that sigh, that silence:

It reminds me you wish I'm there.

I know how 'I love you' ends:

Talk of recycled tales.

I know you now regard me less:

You got the jewel. So what's left?

I know you think it's useless:

Don't give up, it's just a fleeting process.

I know genuine sorrow, friends:

Sun dry your crocodile tears.

I know the peace of death:

Goodbye is just a recess.

I know the cramps of ink fest:

I'm just a menstruating poetess.

I know the stench of emotional mess:

blame the wanton goddess.

I know that crowd moment,

when one feels rather friendless.

I know the schedule of eternity Godless:

Time for burning is endless.

I know the guile of pretense:

just when did I lose my essence?

I know the stain of greases:

makes saints of gypsies.

I know the weight of crosses:

Leaves one between heaven and abyss.

I know perilous times:

They peel away smiles.

I know the pang of weakness:

It pricks like an eternal illness.

I know the taste of sweetness:

of course, she left me tasteless.

I know the sound of sadness:

It groans in silence.

You know, God knows our hearts aches:

He promised. He won't fail.

Eureka will soon rent the air.

Only this, I know not when.

#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

POEM 136: FOR LEAH SHABIRU I can't find the words right To describe Leah's plight. I hope this little piece of mine Awakens our voiceless unconcern. Does she feel giddy? Does she still cry? Does she look out the window and heave a sigh? How long shall this gravity Hold her down to these rascals? I know she kicks but in vain I know she whispers prayers to her God Or maybe she now doubts his existence. Does she wish her breathe be gone? But she's just a teenager Who dreamt of leaving her deadbeat town One day she went to chase dreams The next she was never found Sunrise and sunset have come and gone and Leah is still in the devil's lair. You and I, we eat, we sleep She's not our own, we care not a bit Until same fate cross our path Trample our wives And rip our hearts Only then shall we realize in Leah died our very soul. - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends

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