Poet graham Poems
To my Love
by Graham Ereks
She is the apple of my eyes, my backbone and spine;
She's my lifesaver, my life support and oxygen.
She's one of a kind, my parachute, my defender; she's the Great Wall that protects me against forces.
She's my breath, my life and my all, an angel sent from above.
She's my bulletproof and ladder, for whenever I'm down, she raises me up.
She's my world, my pride and one in a gazillion, so outstandingly pulchritudinous that the world envies her; she's a wingless angel born on a Sunday, a Sagittarius!
Words aren't enough to explicate how much I adore her,
Oh! My goddess, my princess, my everything!
In this month of August you've done for me something so ginormous, beyond comparison.
......
Brosterly Love
by Graham Ereks
Mama's no more, papa too has passed on,
So you, my dear, to me they passed on.
Like five and six we now and then are,
Twinkling ad infinitum like the shooting star.
Sophia, my world, I am now, to you, a father
And mother; your all and irreplaceable brother.
I have become to you a husband, a family,
Combatting on your behalf every life's malady.
......
Mama's Son
by Graham Ereks
'I'll be back soonest', he said to mama blithely,
Nescient of the state's cannibalistic hostility.
How can mama take this inhumanity likely?
Tear-drops every day, thanks to brutality.
Bloodthirsty men-in-black, liveried omnipresent
Ambassadors of anarchy, never at all decent.
Haranguers of licitness, promoters of inequity,
Vampires they are,for they are an insignia of nonentity.
......
Martha's Plight
by Graham Ereks
At sixteen Martha outgrew her age,
Thinking to herself, 'I've come of age'.
'Am I not old enough?' She asked in folly,
Captivated by a lifestyle, indubitably phoney.
Mama and papa sought Martha's indulgence
Giving her advice to which she gave no audience.
'Stay away from the male gender', the duo said
But the forbidden fruit she did choose to be fed
With, triggered by post-primary infatuation.
......
Mama's Loved son
by Graham Ereks
Many a time I sit in the sun thinking out loud,
Wondering now and then, lonely as the cloud.
At times, I feel, in all ways, fiendishly dead-ish,
Does caring about myself make me selfish?
I am the quintessential victim of circumstances,
Doomed intoto with relatable instances.
Mama departed to eternity when I was a child,
Now in adulthood, some say I've gone wild.
......
Quest for Ravenous Crutches
by Graham Ereks
In hunger's grasp, I hobble and strain,
Like crutches, my stomach in pain.
Wheelchair dreams, where food does reign.
Through the fridge I lurch and swoop,
Craving snacks like a ravenous troop.
Wheelchair spins, in fridge I stoop.
Cupboards bare, I shuffle and creep,
Crutches clatter, in corners I peep.
......
The Pattering of Hardship
by Graham Ereks
A cold season it was, in the early part of June,
Heaven's pattering pouring with a sound tune.
Deserted roads, streets devoid of life,
Many a man indoors with his wife.
Senors and senoritas indoors unclad unlucky folks in the hood feeling not glad.
Paucity ubiquitous, I wish I'd been prior to now told
Indeed the pattering has made all and all cold.
Presidential silence, Aso Rock's fall,
......
An African's moaning
by Graham Ereks
Entombed in pregnant forlornness,
Entrapped in life's tiffs, lovelessness,
The living-dead man zombie-walked,
Overpowered by the wind, insulted by insects.
He saunters now and then, hither and thither,
Chatting with the trees, mistaken, every so often, for one non compos mentis. He zombies about, unaware of his deeds, super dead-ish.
Alive yet lifeless, he is but a living dead,
Fully alive, yet fully dead.
......
Brosterly Love
by Graham Ereks
Mama's no more, papa too has passed on,
So you, my dear, to me they passed on.
Like five and six we now and then are,
Twinkling ad infinitum like the shooting star.
Sophia, my world, I am now, to you, a father
And mother; your all and irreplaceable brother.
I have become to you a husband, a family,
Combatting on your behalf every life's malady.
......
Cease Messing with my Feelings
by Graham Ereks
Cease messing with my feelings, I pray thee!
Don't be the Zacchaeus in need of a tree.
My feeling's grown up, mega pregnant,
Oscillating now and then, indeed not stagnant.
Ought I to be to you the mendicant at the beautiful gate;
Why treat me like a dry bone? Can't we just date?
I am a living soul, not the entombed Lazarus,
Madly in love with you, for you're so precious.
May I know your code, my jewel, my angel?
......
