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The Poetic Word

Surface Masks, Unseen Reflections

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Photo by Acton Crawford on Unsplash

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

Photos snapping

Delivery of words that pleases the ears of men

Curriculums receives praises

Grants pour out

Picture perfect solutions,

The government invest

While being comfortable in their beds.

 

A short-term project for others

Are lifelong struggles to some

While some come for the cheque

And can clock out

For some

This is life

No getting out.

 

Behind a case file number

Statistic,

Vulnerability at its highest

Seek for its inner child to be consoled.

Survival without life

Is more colder

Than icebergs singing its Arctic woes.

 

Surface masquerade

Can only fool everyone

Except yourself

Put yourself first

Because your soul will walk with

You

The First

And the last

 

Unseen reflections

That will be quick

To humble

Any egotistic possessed.

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The Poetic Word

Would I Still Love You

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BY GLORIA O’KOYE

In faith,

Would the love that  gets publicly

Professed be like

Clanging cymbals when things don’t

Go exactly as they were prayed.

 

Where every detailed fine print of wants

Instead of needs are not fulfilled,

Will the tongue curse more than counting

All the unspoken grace.

 

Would the thank you shape shift

Into why me and hate you.

Would I love you transition into I wish

I never believed in you.

 

Was the spiritual connection

A one way relationship scandal.

In love

If all the materialistic things disappear

Or prenup

Would it survive till death due us part?

 

Would the physical qualities dim down

Like day and night

Be the reason to set sail to foreign lands

To conquer, forgetting what home was

About.

 

In parenthood,

Would the love be tainted if the bloodlines

Was not solely yours?

Would it be unconditional if challenges

Arise?

 

Would gentle or traditional ways help

Resolve conflicts as first words turn

To power struggles as the babies

Grow, would the love not be tested

By time?

 

Would love be the solution

Like how romanticize society made it to be

Like it answers all.

Is Love without action and only fairytale

Filled words truly mean love?

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The Poetic Word

Womb Carriers

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BY GLORIA O’KOYE

Heavenly bodies

As vessels to nurture life.

When giving birth means opening

The gates of Elysium and Hades

In the same sentence,

So many intrusive thoughts continuously

Distract a vulnerable mind from

Concentrating.

 

Weeks of changes,

Misunderstandings from outsiders

Even within close circles.

Exhaustion confused as laziness

Can bring one healthy spiritual beings

Down to their knees in doubt and sorrow.

 

The final phases cause distress,

Except for those that prepared to take on

This psychological test.

Advocating and entrusting that the body

Knowing what’s best.

 

Let no pressure from institutions to write

Off another patient,

For this gift of creation deserves

Premium attention and nothing less!

 

No more allowing negative influences

Dictate a personal journey into these

Sacred moments.

There is only guidance and milestones

But trust that ancestors will guide

Within miracles in teachings.

 

Divine wisdom

In the tree of life that comes after.

Don’t be haste in severing its ties

When hearing the first cries.

Ceremony comes with time,

And allow rest to ease the soul, body and

Mind.

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The Poetic Word

If it was that easy

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BY GLORIA O’KOYE

If problems were so easy to be solved

Why are they still happening?

If creation provided all the necessities,

Why only a small percentage of humans

Have full control of them.

 

Distribution in small rations to the masses,

While a few feast and even treat luxury of

Resources as waste filling up landfills.

If it was so easy for everyone to take

What is needed

Not out of greed, overfilling their pockets.

 

Leaving scraps for those enlightened

By humility and patience.

If problems were so easy to be solved,

Why our young who are strangers

Taking each other lives,

For the bickering between

Older generations that know one another.

 

For wars fought by those that are full of

Life, the people who live and die for their

Beliefs and propagandas being fed,

Only for disagreements to end with

Signatures on paper

After land and water fill with bloodshed.

 

If problems could be easily solved

At a snap of a finger,

And the people truly have a voice.

Why are the powers that retire

Placed as judges in inquests for

Others in current power.

 

Passing down sentences behind closed

Doors, with no community to be there.

All would be well in ideology,

If human nature didn’t add in the factors.

When solutions are already within reach

Yeh, we make things harder.

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