What A World
While I am in the office in the morning in Lagos,
Someone, somewhere in London is preparing for work.
A Newyorker is still sleeping
Moscow is preparing for lunch.
We don't all sleep at the same time even when we love each other.
We don't all eat together even when we have vowed.
Life goes on even when after death.
We will not all be together in the next worlds.
poem by Mudashiru Shittu Yomi
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Related quotes
Preparing To Fly
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
Im in love all over again
Im head over heels
I cant even begin
To tell you how it feels
She lives on a rock
Surrounded by light
Shes young and shes wild
And shes treating me right
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
I shed some light
I change my address
I havent felt so great
Since I first went west
Ive got brilliant intentions
Unthinkable plans
Ive got sparks and electric shocks
Just exploding from my hands
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
Im back in the saddle
Im out in the clear
I got no regrets
Ive got nothing to fear
Ive battled my demons
Come out on top
Im gonna love you as hard as I can
Never gonna stop
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A mother is a school, preparing her is like preparing a good nation.
Clouds
A visible mass of droplets,
Frozen crystals, in the air.
Suspended in the atmosphere,
Clouds floating everywhere.
Sometimes light and fleecy,
Softly floating by.
Other days dark and angry,
As they begin to cry.
Raindrops gently falling,
Frozen crystals melt away.
Drying up their eyes,
Preparing for another day.
As they continue on their
journey,
On the ground they lay.
Preparing nature for
tomorrow,
Preparing for another day.
poem by Heather Burns
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Lovina
My birth place is the Earth but,
I am preparing myself to go to heaven;
For the sun is shining on me and the flowers are blooming to respect my muse,
But the hope of the unseen heaven is all that i have in mind.
I am preparing myself to go to heaven!
And like the sound of silence and the sound of love;
But the troubles of this Earth are like the sounds of war and the sound of peace,
And like the golden banana and the golden pineapples.
I have to run faster trhan the lion!
Because, i need to overcome the troubles around me to reach the heavens;
But, this Earth is my birthplace.
I am now reaching to heaven! !
And i am very hot like a trip from Oshodi to Yaba in Lagos (Nigeria):
But, my lovely name is Lovina,
And you are as cold as ever.
There is always the power to love and the power of dreams,
And like a monkey hanging on a tree;
But, you are like a gold miner ready for my love,
However, the hope of this unseen heaven is always in my mind.
I have the code of the heaven's gate to share with you,
And like my love so sweet in the land of peace and beauty;
But pride comes before a fall in life,
However, i will get off on this dream to get to heaven!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Today work
With out work
Is work for
Today...
All are sleeping for
After the lunch break...
At my office...
(I am also) ...
haaaa...ha....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Interactive Poetry
when i wake up this morning
sleep is still sleeping
and i slip out of the blanket
not to disturb sleep which
is still soundly snoring
last night we did not pretend
that we were two dead people
sleep was tightly curled upon itself
its arms were not around me
and i could not remember anymore
exactly
whatever happened
to me
or us
if there ever be
this morning
sleep is dead
and i survive
to meet another face of death
in the kitchen
and also in the rest room
and also outside the house
into the road and in the office
where i am working
there are so many faces of death
in my own world
and i am not the loyal subject of sleep
which is death's younger sister
neither am i a friend of death
nor its foe
for out of this everyday encounter
death becomes nothing
but another furniture in the hall
another rock in the garden
part of the numerous leaves in the air
one of those many ' its'
that does not
really disturb me anymore
tonight i will sleep with sleep again
(it is dead and unburied)
i do not name sleep for you
since i too does not know about its true details
or identity
its name its age
when it was born
though i know exactly when it really died
as i have already told you
and what totally is it exactly
the whole truth about its snores and sleep walks and talks
its secrets inside those thick blankets
for in truth in this journey
we sleep with sleep
most of the time
(do i hear ninety percent approving?)
we do not know much of it anyway
or frankly
much less
perhaps
at any rate
(and this may have bored you
to an ending that
bears no significance to your present work)
how can we be interested with such an ordinary matter
that occurs
every minute of the hour?
and what is it that is really worth
writing and
understanding in this world
that does not listen?
(do i hear 95% of you screaming?)
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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The whisper(sun)
When we were sleeping early in the morning
Rays of sun comes into our room
Knock our doors
Hello........man of God
Hurry up, get up, ready for work
When we were working, at noon
Sun comes straight on our head
Says, hey man, , , , , stop your work
Have your lunch
Take a nap
When we were close to finish the day
Sun turns it, s attitude, becomes kind heart
says us, leave your work, you have tired
it, s sufficient for today, sleep itself also
April 4,2008
Abdulrazaq
poem by Abdul Razaq
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This is London
How long will london remain a famished country where houses are damcing like a city, This morning,the moon had become an oddysey of being famous, Things have fallen apart and the sweet girl of london was asking for childrens, This is london , Can we drink our beer and cry the anarchy of our beautiful life, when will sarah become a household name, How will the women of cambridge drink their beer. Abayomi Habib,Lagos.
poem by Abayomi Habib from Off my brain, translated by abayomi Habib
Submitted by Abayomi Habib
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Stunned
Confused and wary like a
spermwhale, you are
nosediving; -
through the shadows
of terrible pain
ejecting ambergris.
Who was getting
the bribery
to fix the belly button?
This was not revolution.
It was evolution-
of a stinking city.
The gods were sleeping
on the lips of a pride.
Nurses were preparing the bed.
How far the sane voice
will reach, to deliver
the relics of a salted dynasty?
•
Unbodied, how do I touch you
groping? The message was not
clear. How to kill oneself on stage?
A beehive falls on
your head. Are you going
to scream?
Entire town was going
for a pilgrimage. The saint
was preparing for a self-burial.
A hundred thousand moons
were placed on your crown.
The sun was going to roll.
Charred bodies
were turning in graves.
Who was becoming untouchable now?
Give me a kiss of cobra.
My bandaged life
wants to sleep in peace.
•
His severed legs were
tucked under his head to serve as a pillow.
He was half-eaten.
Howling
was silencing all the shames
Woman, I am not coming home.
poem by Satish Verma
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My Dear Friend
Good morning
Get up the bed
Smile to love...
Eat break fast
Eat to love...
Work will be
Work to love...
Speak to your's
Familey members
And friend's to love
Eat lunch to love
Evening play to love
Take rest to love
Go to bed to love
Fuke will be do to love
Eat dinner to love
Sleep the bed too love
Do do love
Each every time to love
Not only today
Do every day too love...!
Good night
Bye kiss
With love your's friend...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Men have conceived a twofold use of sleep; it is a refreshing of the body in this life, and a preparing of the soul for the next.
quote by John Donne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do beseech you to direct your efforts more to preparing youth for the path and less to preparing the path for the youth.
quote by Ben Lindsey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know You Live A Very Simple Life
i know my friend that
you live a very simple life out there
waking up in the morning
working in the office
buying food in the market
watch tv
sleep early at night
wake up early again
listen to the morning news
a visit in the chapel
work in the office again
a chat with friends
a little drink of cali with them
sometimes
and no broken heart to nourish
like a wound that does not heal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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135
i know you live a very simple life
i know my friend that
you live a very simple life out there
waking up in the morning
working in the office
buying food in the market
watch tv
sleep early at night
wake up early again
listen to the morning news
a visit in the chapel
work in the office again
a chat with friends
a little drink of cali with them
sometimes
and no broken heart to nourish
like a wound that does not heal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Lagos
'This is Lagos'!
And you have to be very careful to learn from what you see,
For life over here is faster than Harlem in New York!
And it is faster than the bee as well.
Life is very hot and rough over here in Lagos,
But it goes along with the wise and the fool;
Since the people are always ready to share with you.
'This is Lagos'!
And it is too real to believe what you see at times;
But this place is still part of Nigeria.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Work To-Day
Youth's the time; Youth's the season!
Learn and labor while you may,
Hear the voice of age and reason,-
Work to-day.
Labor hard in morning's prime,
Hasten on without delay,
Make the most of early time-
Work to-day.
Up betimes, nor let the sun
Find you sleeping or at play,
Sleep enough when life is done-
Work to-day.
Cull the sweets from ev'ry flower,
Seize the moments while you may,
Nor idly pass one sunny hour-
Work to-day.
poem by James McCauley
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When I was doing half-hour shows, I loved it and was preparing myself for the hour shows. Then when I did the hour shows, I was preparing myself for the specials and features.
quote by Richard Donner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cycle Of My Life
wake up in the morning
remembering some dreams
take a walk in the oval
and come back for breakfast
then take a bath
dress myself
then go to the office for work
the whole day is spent
within the walls and closed glass windows
then come back for home
eat dinner
pray and sleep to bed
dream and at dawn have little sex
with wife
and sleep again and wake up in the morning
and take a walk and take breakfast and
back to the office again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem That Makes You Alive
from the office the paper works pile up
like a mountain where you walk only a few steps
where it is so steep
and you want to rest on the grass because you feel like
you are dying in a minute
and they understand why sometimes you have to stop
and get some air from the window facing the sea
when you go home for lunch
with your wife
your shoulder hangs a little bit down
like a hanging plant from a branch of an old tree
your eyes are drooping
and you lose your appetite
not the food but for life itself
you have been doing things by compulsion
this bread and butter thing
this normal course
this work that is dictated upon us
society moves like a clockwork
office like a jail
the world like a cell to you
you keep your computer open
after lunch you sit in front of it again
punch the letters and tell the screen
this is my life
this could have been my work
writing poems, this poem and the rest of the poems
this makes you alive
without milk without the cradle without the bottle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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