Shifting Dreams

I once was a child
with shifting patterns
In my voice
From mute, to solemn
chirpy, Laughter and a smile

And when with time
I was fed words
About the daily plundering of men
In the world of work
Finding cure for the value chain

The most appealing
Were the soldiers who fought diseases
When upon the cost i ruminated
Having to memorize maths with physics
My choice abated

Borrowing a leaf from nature
My flying instincts surfaced
Death locked me in the face
Riding cars in the sky
For life itself was by grace

Seasons and seasons of learned activity
Taught me; i can create my own worlds
not with metals as the mechanics do
Or lines as the architects foresee
But with words



7 thoughts on “Shifting Dreams” by samuel o-e (@benchmark)

  1. with words
    serving as thoughts
    a world can be created
    even if one is demented

    words are ne’er empty
    wild, barking or pristine
    words are substantial
    making nothing confidential

    create your own world
    and live like you’ve been told
    carving, chopping and always in the mood
    to scribble or write beyond the hood

    1. This is beautiful @ innoalifa. I gbadu your style.

  2. @samuel, nice piece. Keep it up!

  3. Oloruntoba Yetunde (@Olushademi)

    With words indeed, you can have all that you want. Nice poem, it is a reminder that there is power in Words.

  4. s'am (@samenyuch)

    hmm. this is nice

  5. Efe Edosio (@EfeEdosio)

    Really nice piece.

  6. thanks @ innoalifa you made me smile
    @uzywhite thanks for you commendation

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