MY BIRTH DAY

I shyly grow into features of my parents

When they are no longer for my birthday,
Seasons winding my hours I foresee now
It was hidden in those childhood days.

Few leaves are left in the trees of winter
Withered in snow reminds my early spring
A startled bird for softest songs of his lover
Marveled for world in its primeval color.

I swing in freedom as beyond any illusion
The boatman for the other side of shore
It was a short journey though long to appear
I glance back in a glimpse from beginning to end.

All it was trust and love in my gentle bearing
Turning me timeless never to be weaned,
Living with God and his creations evergreen
Each hour gives me thoughts of thousand years.

I see a distant house where I was born in morn
A small town was in jubilation of my arrival here
Smiles of miles on every lip who gathered there
On this very day to love and live with all.

Composed and Copyrighted By Rajendra K. Padhi

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VANILLA FLAVOR

Masks are sweet coats
Dinosaur skins for lizards,
Scalpers are coke 
Melt in water profiting taste,
Scrabbled- words
Extricated thoughts,
Music of speedy worms 

MEW-MEW

I am your pussy cat 

Mewing in my dialectics of slavery,
You are a good tyrant
In your clean game of power
Want me in your back and call.

My love is the plastic butterfly in vase
Tied in a stick of flowers without root,
I love your wallet for fishes at lunch
Kisses are return profits, wax of a candle.

I am jealous of parrots in your cage
Playfully repeating words you have taught,
I only do mew-mew funny to hear
Crocodile tears bring you near
Politics are evil wits all masters are tied.

I am your pussy cat
You will catch me when I fall
When you fail
I will find a new master.

I will play the same game
Facts are faces I see in the streets
Debits are not to be credited
Images in mirror change over the years.

Composed and copyright by Rajendra K. Padhi

WINTER IN ME

The night smiles upon my winter 

THE POET’S ART

The poet’ art deathlessly lay as waves of bay
His voice is heard ceaselessly night and day,
The nightingale never sings for a reward from man
But fills up the silence of forlorn summer morn.

The fame is but the ice on sea that melts in the sun
As if it is the sand where we stand looking at waves
Singing they reach us, the sand remains unseen
Poet’s songs travel from age to age without death.

A true poet is seen sitting in a park with sunshine
Listening the music of rain in the cloudy night
Reading the eyes of the crowd to find true words
We never find him noisy like a child crazy for a reward.

God as great poet wonder’s our eyes though unseen
But hear his golden voice when a bird sings in spring,
The mystery of the everlasting will to delight the world
Music endless, thoughts new, feelings memorable.

Composed and copyright: Rajendra K. Padhi

Chris Abani a Nigerian American author

Christopher "Chris" Abani (born 27 December 1966) is a Nigerian and American author. He is part of a new generation of Nigerian writers
working to convey to an English-speaking audience the experience of those born and raised in "that troubled African nation".
Biography
Abani was born in Afikpo , Nigeria. His father was Igbo , while his mother was of English descent.
He published his first novel, Masters of the Board , in 1985 at the age of 16. It was a political thriller, the plot of which was an allegory based on a coup that was carried out in Nigeria just before it was written. He was imprisoned for six months on suspicion of an attempt to overthrow the government. He
continued to write after his release from jail, but was imprisoned for one year after the publication of his 1987 novel Sirocco . After he was released from jail this time, he composed several anti-government plays that were performed on the street near government offices for two years. He was imprisoned a
third time and was placed on death row.
Luckily, his friends had bribed government officials for his release in 1991, and immediately Abani moved to the United Kingdom, living there until 1999. He then moved to the United States, where he now lives.
Education and career
Abani holds a B.A. in English and Literary
Studies from Imo State University, Nigeria; an M.A. in Gender and Culture from Birkbeck College , University of London , an M.A. in English from the University of Southern California; and a Ph.D. in Creative Writing and Literature from the University of Southern
California .
Abani has been awarded a PEN/Barbara
Goldsmith Freedom to Write Award, the 2001 Prince Claus Awards , a Lannan Literary Fellowship , a California Book Award, a Hurston-Wright Legacy Award and the Hemingway Foundation/PEN Award. Selections of his poetry appear in the online journal Blackbird. From 2007–2012, he was Professor of Creative Writing at the University of
California, Riverside. He is currently a Board of Trustees Professor of English at Northwestern University.
His book of poetry, Sanctificum ( Copper
Canyon Press, 2010), is a sequence of linked poems, bringing together religious ritual, the Igbo language of his Nigerian homeland, and reggae rhythms in a postracial, liturgical love song.
Abani's foray into publishing has led to the formation of the Black Goat poetry series, which is an imprint of New York-based Akashic Books. Poets Kwame Dawes, Christina Garcia, Kate Durbin, Karen Harryman, Uche Nduka , Percival Everett, Khadijah Queen and Gabriela Jauregui have all been published by
Black Goat.

Literary Icon

Born in the year 1934 July 13, at Abeokuta Ogun state. His birth name Akinwande Oluwole Soyinka popularly known as wole Soyinka. His an author, poet and playwright. He won the Nobel prize literature in 1986. He has been married thrice, and divorced twice, he also had children from his three marriages.

 Wole Soyinka has performed and still performing excellently well in both Educational and political system of Nigeria. His involvement in politics has greatly helped Nigerians and how he has shaped our educational system.

O' Mademoiselle

Blush at me, blush at me
Blush at me O' Mademoiselle!
Why you offer a shy?
A mellifluous sonnet,
I am ready to pen
Care I don't..
If 'tis a truth or a lie!

Smile at me, smile at me
Smile at me O' Mademoiselle!
Why you care to deny?
A beauty of a thought,
I am ready to lend
Care I don't..
If 'tis a how or a why!

Come to me, come to me
Come to me O' Mademoiselle!
Why you wish to fly?
An abode of love,
I am ready to rent -
For you!
Care I don't..
If 'tis a sigh or a good bye!

The love I do
Is like a poetry of dews
With each awakening dawn..
The drops are new!
Care I don't..
If 'tis a reality or a fantasy untrue!

Copyright (c) - Daipayan Nair 2015

A FAR MIND

An expression penned down by Osasere Rutherford Bright, chief poet Rolling Starz Poetry Club
The fame of a warrior
Lies in his muscles.
The fame of a skillful brain teaser
Lies in his mental observation.
Yesterday saw itself
But tomorrow hopes.
And if it does come,
It becomes yesterday!
The green trees that sway in air
For my oxygen
Turn brown when the sun circles its pains.
In nature another is born
For my existence
And if I do go,
The next breed takes the breeze!
My picture lingers in memories
Based on my last growth stage
Even if my mourners
Get old, they still see me in
My last breath!
Sometimes I feel we can cheat
Death based on my mental superiority
To subdue the forces of life
But when a doctor does go,
I feel I am being deceived!
Worries of life are pages
That never turn,
When you force to turn,
The breeze will bring them back
Until human relationship
Comes to harmony with the soul.
Don't look at me to commit sin
Because my heart is singing
Chants of yearning for heaven
When your eyes off me.
Salvation in secret is not
A fool in open door.
I am a civilization of mankind,
Light to the night forest,
Road to the land of kindness
And a spirit to a spirit.
Freedom is a concept.
Only the chained in life and afterlife yearns
For wide space.
The soul is the house of freedom,
A traveler without borders,
A traveler without passport.
Where is the freedom of the oppressed?
Liberation is a struggle gain.
Struggle without freedom
Is a continuation of soul prison
Where you make reflections in
A Death Row- only your
Heart, soul and mind prepare
You for death's day...
Death's day that is closer
In the mind and farther in comfort.
The consolation of a man
To die in alcohol, temporary happiness
Without deep concern to his mandatory death
Is my secret wonderment of humanism!
Man is a duty vehicle
Carrying all worries in speed
Of his destruction and holy destination.

Poetry Republic: EARTH EXPIRES

Poetry Republic: EARTH EXPIRES: ‘Tis was a quiet and lazy day The sun, sluggish in its sway Sending ashen rays across the panes Like an unannounced Dane ...

the Poetry Republic Competition.

CRY

From a young boy there’s a cry
In that city burning by
He lost his childhood
To a collective mental rape
From a mother who alone abide
(She just lost another child),
There is a broken sigh
- Medal for her burdened heart
A grievious wailing of a tribe
Where destiny is the bribe
Offered the same plaguing dream
Shattering our collective, merged rim
And none else hears
And no one cares
All giddy, in quest
Of heaving afloat their heads

Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/cry-23/#ixzz1SpL5NIhz