My Sister’s Room

I have plans for my sister’s room
Which I’ve renamed the den of doom,
While she is gone for three days (three!)
With plans to have more fun than me.

There’s ice cream for her pillowcase
(Nice and sticky for her face).
Rubber spiders for her sheets,
(A nice and soothing bed-time treat.)
I’ll read her journal — glue it shut,
And tell my mom it’s filled with smut.
I’ll stuff her shoes with pistachios,
Her posters I’ll mustachio.

Give me time, I’ll think of more.
What’s that? My sister locked her door!?!
I’m so angry I could bust.
It’s sad when sisters don’t have trust.

Denise Rodgers

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life is like a stage

sorrow upon sorrow, sound
beat like a death of drum
life is like a stage when going
and coming back is shaving

olaitan tunde

A Journey In Train

On the way to Mumbai in train,
People see many mountains and plain.
Some people sneeze and cough,
whereas others loudly laugh.
Some devour up books full of pages
Which are to read for all ages.
Some children play with Portable Play Stations;
When others look at passing stations.
Vendors move in and out the comparment
Like air moving in and out an apartment,
Selling CDs, key chains and chocolates sweet
Along with relishing and tasty food to eat.
Many babies there cry and cry
With no reason to ask why…
Moves the train between greenery around
With more than a thousand varities abound.
Finally, it ends snoring a the terminal station
And all get down from an awesome vacation,
Without any history dates and math formulae in brain;
And by enjoying a lovely journey in TRAIN …

Aditi Vijayan

Source: http://www.poemsclub.com
www.PoemsClub.com

Goodness

Skin same color of a perfectly aged cognac
hair that mirrors a pitch black storming down her back
chest built like the over lapping mountains in Peru
midsection as flat as the ocean surface when low tides pass through
valley as vast as the ones in Sydney
canal as beautiful as magdeburg in Germany limbs long and smooth as hundred year mahogany tree
backside as curved as an crescent moonon a starry night
walk as graceful as an well tainted murghese
Goodness

Royale Jones

problem people face

do not be shame of every problem you face
or every challenges. do not give up whenever
you rest, you will be defeated, do not lay your
life for ungodly soul, you will perish without edifice
try to be sanctitas.

olaitan tunde

all of my life

all of my life have find a way to say sorry
to the thing i known i should do not done.
i known the way that a sear a challenge
thou have love a cherry or the time not, the
challenge or face lover for ever not never.

olaitan tunde

i love my son

'I LOVE MY SON..........................
I KISS MY SON, ..........................
THOU IS LIKE A BLOKES, AMONG THE BLOKES, BUT NOT LIKE RAIN
THAT SEAR TEARS, UNBELIEVABLE, THY WAY OF ENABLE, NOT DISABLE.
'I WANT MY SON TO BE MORE THAN A ROUT, NOT ONE THAT FALL IN SWARD
AND ENTER INTO THE DEEP RED RAIN WITH MORTEN.

olaitan tunde

On The Death of My Grandfather

Touching your cheek
Pinching your beards and lips
I grew up.
I grew up
Looking your brightening appearance
And walking in your shadow.
When you took me in your embrace
Went to our gardens, farms, and ponds
Telling me
“See, these are your
Why do you cry?
Bath in the rivers
Eat these fruits…”

I remember
Then I used to smile
Hiding my face in his shoulders.
And after playing some times
We returned to home.

But today you have gone
Leaving me in sorrows
Leaving me alone!
And now you will never return
My holy angel!
You will never hold me to your chest
Never will you smile
On mistakes I make…

But from the loving cage of my heart
“Baba” you will never be apart!
Alok Mishra

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My Friend, Death

Suicide
An escape from the world
From all the sorrow
The pain
The hurt
An escape from the darkness
Into the darkness
Never to come back out
I've looked for other ways
I've found other doors
But all of them were locked
The only door opened is death
Death will cradle me
Death will wipe my tears away
Death will comfort me
Death will love me
Death will do what no one else could
Death will understand
Death will be my friend
Rachie West

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pungent

'pungent belong to those who loath,
my nation, my African; cross thy way of
sword, during colonize full of black, slavery
blood sell to other countries for M
I African stand in one nation shall
never bow down for the loath white
'tree'

olaitan tunde