IN MY FATHER’S HOUSE.
There is a house set up in the hill_
A stored meal that heals the ill.
Up the mountain lies savior
Of those in hungers favor.
Get on board comrades_
Off we are with a blazing spade
To mount the house of my father_
There, there’s nothing like hunger.
Come and eat not a few_
Follow me, all is ready and due.
Take the chance and fly
To the Crest where all lie.
THE WINDVANE TOWER.
Just like souls stand so tall;
So is the windvane tower; a wall,
For in it, saints die young,
Just like Jericho stood and fall;
So shall sands mourn this great wall,
For in it greatness is seen as a dung.
Are they not Egyptian of the recent age…
Autocrats and aristocrats in sinful rages,
Merciful at dawn; devil at night,
Women fear the unknown even in their right,
The land is trading anarchy and chaos legally;
Wherein havoc abides; Mr End hovers around hiddenly.
And at sight, the windvane tower,
Is blooming in vanities and so sour,
Because the light faded away its power
But, leaves are made to fade away;
So do some soulful saints go sway,
When the heart had gone astray.
THE HOME DOCTOR.
Far above the roof I lay my head,
For the wonders of breeze I beheld,
What a cooling breezeway?
The gentle air you hissed make the way,
On the bed you lay me sleep,
Like a shepherd care to the sheep.
The four friends with corollary,
The roof dance as mathematical binary,
Strangers you made perpetual visitor,
So far above,yet you’re the home doctor,
Your speed capacity chased the enemy,
Mosquitoes and friends salute as army.
The four cadinal dances a joyful tide,
For sample you are in clockwise ride,
You make the beauty of the mantion,
In hot season you skip death temptation,
Shall air condition take your place?
No no no you’re more than air space .
WINDMILLS OF THE GODS.
Round and round the hand goes
Spinning and controlling the wind as it flows
Its every direction coordinated and tamed
So is our life directed
By the windmills of the gods
We have plans and decisions
But they become moot and end in confusion
Cause the gods direct our lives
Like puppets on strings
We are all slaves
To the windmill of the gods
The minds of the gods
Toss our lives like waves
Just like the needle create the stitches in the cloth
And the wind is tamed from its course
Even so our lives are manipulated
By the windmills of the gods
*E. D. OGHRE*
FAREWELL MY SUMMER LOVE.
You live with gracious shoulders
Chasing your shadow
Like a dog chases his tail.
Beautiful in mystery
As the wind sings your praise.
Gentle as dove
With eyes of liberty
As holy days tell your tale.
All round the yawning blades, there’s a chasm
When the wind blows it’s whistle, the race begins
They keep running sans meeting each other, none has the charm
The greedy clouds summons its army and give dish to their minds
When things fall apart, enjoy the strength of the wind
Cause everything works together, just like the windmill and wind
Some tag me as pheochromocytoma as I search for her
I’m looking for my missing sleeping beauty- haven’t heard from her
Tangled, she’s a beauty; I was no beast. My heart is frozen, I’ve to be brave
Is she like Fiona trapped in a castle? To save her, will I be shriek the ogre?
I didn’t pay attention to her, I was a jerk. Was that why she disappeared?
If I go to the place we created memories, will I find her there?
The place cured sorrows and bitterness
I always had my quiet time there with her, it put smile on my lips
Anytime we’d issues, I brought her there and locked lips
Should I call it a castle or tower or a place of happiness?
I inhale the slattern wind and look at the tower wishing it’s no ruse
As I behold my sleeping beauty, my pacifier, my muse.Cause with her, I’m complete
Oh! My windmill!
A tower adorned with loose petals
Petals that dog the footsteps of each other
At the smashing arrival of the wind.
Though simple, you’re Gordian’s knot
Yet, I freak out on your uniqueness.
You build up life in many forms
You punch up the city
Famine have you scratched out with your blades too
Adam’s ale, you provide as well
Mankind would be a wreck without you –
Oh! My windmill.
ONLY THE CHURCH
That awful and cacophonous sound
Where the atmosphere will defaced itself
And the angel raise his banner
And brought out a cantata, for the final call
On that day..
Men will lament, Women will cry
For it will be unwit to them of the ephemeral
While they’d be clubbing, flexing and gulping
Only the church will fly
That very day..
I’ll never allow the ark to pass me by
I’d pay deaf ears to my thoughts
No girl, No money, No fame
Can hold me back, for I know
Only the church shall fly..
E. D. OGHRE
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