WELCOME TO POETRY INVOICE

POETRY INVOICE PRESENT: TOP THREE POEMS OF THE WEEK 1ST: DEATHS-TINATION . . These lines are dark in complexion I wrote them at the middle of somewhere, heading nowhere They are the crumbs that fell from the art of last night When my pen became the shadows of desolate bodies . I was born on the 26th day of the 12th month- from my mother's womb, i was even I have always thought life would come in same order Till every seconds tick, with a pinch of oddness - a friend left, clinging to death in holy matrimony - my lover says love is sour on my lips, she left - fate played dice with my heart, leaving goodbyes as my soulmate . I was taught to live with the scars Of the bruises in my mother's smile I grew up with the art of deception Wrapped in the attire of beauty in men's words That, it's the only way they set their tongues free To speak their father's language, not to a woman's ears, but between her legs . I die at ev

REFLECTIONS II . There is something my father told me about water: He said it is a mirror where we see diverse reflections, – I see myself sometimes through the flames billowing from his pipes with residues of ashes on his fingers – I see a city whose name I can’t utter unless I see the letters falling from my mouth like leaves reciting the poems of gravity. . This city is a silent night: The other day, I dipped my fingers into the sky and I watched how the clouds squirt the juicy flames of our burnt men, who sank 6ft beneath their boots when they danced with fireflies in the ballroom of Bornu; I saw how the night tore itself into shades of gray as the dark began to filter its hues into tints of shades. The flames of the men found home in our eyelids when they became insomnia - an antidote to blood-stained lullabies. . I watched the other day when my shadow stared at me with tears in its eyes, we both held our hands at the river till it faded into the walls of the w

HOW TO GROW IN ONE'S ART Good evening fellow poets, writers and sages here. My name is Micheal Ace. I want to believe that name rings a bell and if it doesn't, let me tell you little about myself before we proceed. I am a poet, a writer, a blogger and a reader with at least enough knowledge about the basics and rudiments of growth especially in art. I am a product of evolution, transition and consistent learning. I believe the world is too complex for a pen to remain idle. Were you expecting me to talk about my achievements, awards and recognition here? No Those things are secondary goals, to me though. The primary purpose of me being a writer is to impact, to inspire, to heal, to redefine, to build a legacy and to make history. And this is what i want us to understand here, your motive towards your craft determines how far and how well you go. Believe me, as a poet, it’s so easy to get depressed, it's a norm to consider quitting, you’re very prone to get discouraged a

A message for the wise If death is a man That breathes and eat Like every other man Then I will kill him before his death And steal his record So that I will not die forever Then the world will see me as a hero Then I will become a god Then I will be worship But death refuses to be a man How do I safe myself From death? # written Iam_pentalk

TRILOGY Spiritual Songs : Out Of Bound: [For people living out of revelation] This world is coming to an end,soon; Just watch how it cloud your eyes into a dirge song-- & how it could befall on your chest like a wall broken for autumn, Because soon: you will feel not your body again, You will run into houses of no windows, & all you could find is a symbol of darkness, Speaking to you in white language-- But beware,you cannot understand the white language; When your brain is off from your head. Eyes would be open wider, than socket of a god's skin, You will be taught how to wear pain & drink your sisterhood blood too, Everything would become too busy to control, Because this is not the normal sense of life. Look, that day,a man will taste your body, If you resist to poison your eyes like twin shadows-- Or shades of destructive; Blades blasted on your funeral. Your poem would become too wet to read again, Your home would carry the body of a l

SHE IS ONLY 14 . . These words are broken I lost my soul, scribbling them . I do not know when the world Begin to trade a girl child for bloodless currencies When was it aired in the radio, To make mothers from babies? When was it signed into our constitutions To stop chasing women- but their children? When did it all begin? When? When? When? . How do you hold your bodies together Knowing you've held a future in your tongue Passing it down the throat of woundes glories? How do you look at nature with a clear conscience Knowing you just buried a part of her alive? . When do men start to feed on curses for blessing? . Why pluck the stars in her sky To give your lust a lightening? She's only 14- a tree without branches Why seal your conscience like your fathers Who woo women to bury them in their eyes? She's only 14- a music with incomplete lyrics Why force yourself to sing her song, when your heart doesn't even foll

Still Born [For him] We are strangers of diverse tongues, Bearing the tone of dark poems, When our shadows are epitome of anger, Walking wider than the range of sex waters. There's a problem hung inside our bones: It's a sloppy anthem of calculus voices, Running into rivers of a paradoxical skin. That time,we were born of agrophobia, When our eyes were still finding bulbs, To hold like lightning & a lyric of opera Which freshen the sour in our shattered hearts--   Look into the body of a boy: -he said his name is a little broken ant -he said he lives like a bullet wet with water -he said he lives like a home broken into socket -he said his teeth is a rainbow of 365 doors -he said his mother wears another god's skin in a white land -he said his sister is a song that has 4 eyes -he said his father's name is always burning inside his stomach Because there's clashing of skins in a parallel storms, Leading into bitterness of dead sea. Remember,

ELEMENTS OF WRITING BY POET IGE Elements of writing, picking each word in the topic one after the other, *elements* simply means composition, thus, we can rephrase the topic as *The composition in writing* [11/19, 8:39 PM] Ige: *writing* in my own words, is the process of penning down a thought, whatever must be written down must have passed through the corridor of the brain before the ink will exhibit it [11/19, 8:39 PM] Ige: Now, attributing that to Literature (poetry in particular) [11/19, 8:40 PM] Ige: Literature- is from the word 'literate' ability to write and read [11/19, 8:41 PM] Ige: However, poetry in my definition is the expression of emotion [11/19, 8:41 PM] Ige: Idea, concept [11/19, 8:41 PM] Ige: In a *unique* way [11/19, 8:41 PM] Ige: What makes poetry to differ from other genres of Literature is the uniqueness [11/19, 8:43 PM] Ige: As a poet, you are synonymous to a blacksmith, we don't coin cutlass or knife but we coin *words* [11/19, 8:45 PM] I

ON YOUR WAY HOME . . This path is filled with the carcass of bodies with desolate cities There are voices buried on its soil Of boys who live with broken shadows To quench the fire on their tongue And of girls who fold the moon in their breast To carry the beauty of the night . On this path, you don’t ask men for direction Some are living beings in dead bodies- life made them who they are . Home are not found in maps We trace our ways through the echoes of our mother’s voice Maps are sometimes wanderers They are images painted by men with stolen dreams . On your way home -you’ll find boys chewing their pains by carrying their mothers on their head -some people must die before they live, some must live before they die- but not all would see their home again -there would be maidens who became dusty lanes for searching for love outside their heart -you’ll see dead memories fighting to stay alive -some battles must be lost to be won -you’ll

PIANO AND DRUMS REVIEW BY THE VOICE CREW Piano and Drums by Gabriel Okara When at break of day at a riverside I hear jungle drums telegraphing the mystic rhythm, urgent, raw like bleeding flesh, speaking of primal youth and the beginning, I see the panther ready to pounce, the leopard snarling about to leap and the hunters crouch with spears poised. And my blood ripples, turns torrent, topples the years and at once I’m in my mother’s laps a suckling; at once I’m walking simple paths with no innovations rugged, fashioned with the naked warmth of hurrying feet and groping hearts in green leaves and wild flowers pulsing. Then I hear a wailing piano solo speaking of complex ways in tear- furrowed concerto; of far away lands and new horizons with coaxing diminuendo, counterpoint, crescendo, but lost in the labyrinth of its complexities, it ends in the middle of a phrase at a daggerpoint And I lost in the morning mist of an age at a riverside keep wandering in th

Wet Roads Wet roads, Muddy, Sticky and Puddly manifestations of a maimed past Wet roads from thriving years, well groomed on your laps, stirred your heart's sail westward, laced round your enshrouding bodice,  stripped you of all sanctimonious sanity. You gazed through misty windows and met nothing but floors floored with laws and human flaws. At the altar where you kneel, the Eucharistic wine that sojourns down your throat entangles with a stale wine in a red-painted chamber, befuddled with blood. Your lips now laps for joyous waters and shores where dragnets of filth lie in your bosom reverting all resustications of self-love and calm. Let your soul seek peace Like a thirsty traveller and lien your quest on Heaven alone. @ Rita George

IMAGERY IN POETRY BY KATOONSPEAKS A very resplendent evening to POETRY INVOICE and the occupants of this "abode" I am Oladele Taiwo O (Katoonspeaks) Imagery is a feature of written and spoken language and occurs whenever someone has chosen to use language in a non-literal way. Imagery is a way of describing something symbolically, using words to create a picture in the reader's imagination... Imagery frequently conveys more than just meaning. Imagery is a broad concept and in divulging my very shallow knowledge I will crave the indulgence of anyone with more insights on the topic to start scribbling down their ideas for when we will call for questions and contributions. Imagery is the conjuring of the metaphysical nature of words to appease and to appeal the reader Imagery is the " how" a poet decides to let the reader see (without sighting), feel (without touching), hear (without the bang), taste (without the spice), smell (without the scent), get high (w

POETRY INVOICE📝 INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ELEVEN Submitted Writers: prince joe Judiasky Young prince Ayodeji Ibnmudeer Sir.patrick Emperor Xela Dkings Chosen star Undiluted poet Quote: "Fate is a named word of God" (Prince joe) __________________ Quote: "Not all stories are meant to end, some become histories that were never told" (Undiluted Poet) _________________ Quote: "The birth of man is the beginning of his end. The end which links to the beginning of a new life. New life; a function of the journey between Begin and end". (Young prince) ___________________ Quote: "Greatness start with vision and focus" (Chosen Star) ___________________ Quote: " A cripple man do not get killed in a divulged war" (Judiasky) __________________ Quote: "A man without vision, purpose and focus will only live to tell the success of others" (Dkings) __________________ Quote: "Life has no fixed structur

PROFFERING SOLUTION TO PROBLEMS(POETRY) BY BAMIGBOLA SILAS. Our society is insane already, please as  poets don't add to the insanity. The world is full of problems that need solutions and it needs people to rise up to proffer solutions to those problems. And you as a poet must have a purpose. So as a poet, what is your purpose? We all write poetry for a reason. If I ask us all why we write poetry, "most" us should be able to say why we write poetry. At least: If you have a purpose as a poet you begin to solve those problems. Every literary works including poetry should be aimed at providing solutions to the problems we have on ground. You shouldn't add to the problems with your poems. Don't just write for fun or writing sake. Write for a greater purpose. I know the potency of words and I'm sure we all know the potency of words. Please don't ever hold back as poets, if you will be a solution you must be a defiant and fearless. Cowards don'

Songs: we do not sing with voices wowed with sweet volume, We walk, wallowing swallowing the seeds That travels like drops of rain In our throats. ... We get addicted easily to the salty tears that stands on our foreheads Whenever we break the shell of a new dawn And keep the new eggs of life tortures . .... We break the yolk in our eyes Round like rim of tyres Bleeding hotness And pain yawning through our voices. .... We feed the sunshine rising under our armpits, We admit the moon is like a boy who feels the same too. We rise and fall farther than our hearts can reach, We preach of justice, but burden keeps lurking around us like spirits. .... We tell of tales sung as songs around a table Where we build trust, trusting time will never fail. We buy offerings and bury our pamphlets under our pillows, We are welcomed, where our fathers didn't build his stable. ..... Songs sometimes become a dwelling place Where we forgot to teach our souls how to pray, Son

LOYAL DOG Loyal Dog, Tail dance at the sight of Master, All for a Piece of Bone, Every step, Looking to and fro for intruder to devour. Oh Dog! Think Think, Master devour Thousands of Fresh meats, But your teeth consume the Bones, Yet he said Bones are your favourite. Master Live under a Roof But here you are Watching In the Scorching sun In the merciless Rain, Wash and dry. Pains and Tears, All to serve a pot belly fool. Who spend his night Snoring like a Satisfied Pig. Oh Loyal Dog! You race after Enemies, With Life at high risk, All for a Bone to crack, Yet master has never look at you And bestow to you a room out of his Mansions. Yet your loyalty knew no bound. Loyal Dog! Think Think Think You all the time, If You die, Life Goes on. Oh thou Loyal Dog, Think, Think, Think. -JOSEPH JASEF 2017©

SATURDAY'S LECTURE LIFE BEFORE,DURING AND AFTER SCHOOL BY POET EMMANUEL. As an intro, let's all look into the real world today. What do you see? What do I see? What do we all see together? ... Am happy to tell you that we see reality! And this reality is that EDUCATION in this part of our world heads towards asylum. But, firstly I'd love to ask this question. WHAT IS EDUCATION??? ... Just one responder please Well .... Education from my own perspective of which I know applies to the whole people living in this part of the world I reside, is defined as a process of; 1) Learning 2) Unlearning 3) Countering Knowledge 4) Creating Knowledge 5) Living. Hence, if anything you involve in doesn't do all of this above listed points, Then it shouldn't be regarded as being EDUCATION. and here exactly lies the problem!.. ... This part of the world we are believe that EDUCATION is simply the act of sitting inside a four jointed wall in the form of a room w

For the school children that lost their lives on an Abuja highway . Sighs falling down my face, my wrinkles quaking like broken walls, my hairs are stretched like pines, bumbs building on my skin & obstructing the waves of my sweat, . the tv screen painting the walls of of my room with images of children that kissed the dust on an highway road of Abuja . Their ghosts are seeking asylum somewhere in my eyes, the speakers are wetting my ears with blood, carrion has taken its toll, it's building a nest on their bodies with its beak, its bald head is a wall where the children's names are plastered, its wings are ready to spread their carcasses in the wind... . the moon is crescent tonight, like the shape of a curved sword, I remembered holding the full moon on a platter of idioms, memories are waiting to ferry the crescent moon into my hands. . DEATH!!! Vengeance is coming on the day of reckoning where shadows will fight back to repay for the tears yo

POETRY INVOICE📝 INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES TEN Submitted writers: Prince joe Bigger Al-Islam Kannada Joseph jasef Obinna Allwrite Judiasky Priscilla Chisco Aybam Jamiu Ahmed Olagbaz The poetryApostle Hat ___________________________________ Quote: "A goal archived is another open door for temptation" (Prince joe) ______________ Quote: "Women are like WiFi, when the signal is strong they attract a great deal of users, but when weak and slow no one bothers to log in". (Bigger Al-Islam Kabanda) _________________ Quote: "I am your friend Not because we are MEANT to be but because we MET to be" ( Joseph Jasef) _________________ Quote: "Creativity is a Child born out of wedlock" (Obinna Allwrite) __________________ Quote: "The only test that approves anything worthy is the test of time" (Judiasky) ___________________ Quote: "poets aren't those that write poetry for the sake of writing but those who that

INDEPENDENCE DAY (STORY ) The verdant joy filled the atmosphere like an escaped gases released from a closed cylinder that has been kept for several years. Happiness engulfed the cloudy clime, as Nigerians were about to be freed from the shackles of the British. Gloria was a little girl, she loves dancing, which made her teacher choose her as the dancing group leader of her school. She approached her dad who was sitting at the dinning room waiting for her wife to bring the hot water for tea. "Daddy I'm happy I will be meeting Queen Elizabeth today" she said. Her father replied, "You are right my daughter, Queen Elizabeth is coming today to declared Nigeria freedom". "Wow, That's great daddy, I'm really happy", she said in a playful manner, she moved closer a bit to her daddy. "You should be, my daughter.  For Nigeria will be free from the British, hence we are no longer a slave", He said while touching the cheek of her daugh

A TWO LANGUAGE POETRY. IGBO & YORUBA TITLED ONYE AKA MMEPU _(Free Hotspot)_ BY:- JOSEPH JASEF Price paid, Purchased and Claimed, The beautiful Damsel, ADAMMA 1 of our Century, OSUKWU, Our awaiting "BEAUTIFUL ONES ARE YET TO BE BORN" Her skin glitters like a Diamond, Producing rays at sun shine. His Long time girlfriend, Finally Hooked to him for better for worse. The mother of his Unborn babies, Now she step her feet into the House. NKITA, Ring is never a barrier, The way for all men, After pledging never to cheat, After pledging to remain faithful forever, Yet Men lay with her on the Matrimonial bed. ONYE AKA MMEPU, A free hotspot all men connect to. MA OCHA, MA OJI, MA OGOLOGO HA NINE DI YA MMA N'AHU "UWA SIRI IKE ! " Ignorant man Suffer tommy fasting, Yes because the Dog he married is barren, I Pity you dear Husband. O BURU NA NWANYI NA AKWA IKU EBUGHI ONWE YA, OGBUO DI YA. Why wont she be, After severals of Secret Abort