There's A Boy Sitting By The Road | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 263: THERE'S A BOY SITTING BY THE ROAD
there's a boy sitting by the road
he's looking at what I do not know

he's not looking at the sun and gathering clouds
fighting over territories in the sky,
because there's no flicker of awe in his eyes

he's not looking at birds perching on trees
flapping wings in the winds
and floating effortlessly in the air,
because he's not a bit amused

there's a boy sitting by the road,
looking at a future because last night was a nightmare

there's a boy sitting by the road,
resuming another loop of hunger pangs,
patched lips and outstretched hands

there's a boy sitting by the road,
why dash past him with a straight face?

there's a boy sitting by the road,
don't you notice his fading frame?

there's a boy sitting by the road,
a drop from your tap of goodwill would do.

#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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