Quietness in the Market place- A poem by John Omoku
|Picture of a woman trying to quiet her child |
Again I picked up my pen,
Hoping I would make it bleed as always,
But instead, I stared at my book like a hen,
As I talked with solitude face to face.
I feel nothing, but something,
But something felt like empty
Indeed, empty was no where close to what I felt,
But it was something…
The cold breeze walked down my shoulders smouldering,
And the hairs on my skin, Orgasm
The fierce heart of a winter soldier bleeds,
Love was the needle causing the bleat.
Indeed sadness had a long goatee,
And I was sinking and grinding in it.
By John Omoku Sept.25.2018
This was My first ever poem, and it depicts a broken man, wounded in his emotions… From what obviously was a cut through his heart, a deep cut.