Amity

out of this world

Bàtá Drumbeats…

…So he did it 👌. Do check it out😉

WORDIFICE

At the turn of the year, a friend of mine suggested that I do a chapbook. At the time, I had no idea what a chapbook was, and even when I found out, I wondered if I really was qualified enough to do anything that daring.

Read the work of quite a number of poets, and immediately, my major challenge was that I felt my work wasn’t quite there yet as far as ‘standard‘ poetry is concerned, but then I made a commitment to go for it and “announce a release” on the 27th day of this month. I regretted that decision almost immediately because I thought of all the things producing a book however small entails.

But you see… At some point, I had to tell myself to just go with it, and do what I could, and so I decided I’d self publish and…

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Toil

 

    Photo: AmityPhoto: Amity

She rises gracefully, 

peeps through the gloomy clouds,

kisses the face of her beloved.

A daily ritual, meted out religiously.

Beads of words string together

in the mind of her beloved,

Unwilling they flow through her pen,

Hopefully, to be embraced by all.

Once again their job is done.

Tomorrow they shall rise again

Hopeful, higher grounds, they shall gain

As they toil together in their separate ways.

bedevil

image
Image : google

I have got a snake in my skull,
It is eating up my brain
I do not mind, you see
The snake will be my brain.

I gave the dog my bone
It’s just my tibia, you see
I got more than enough 
I don’t mind sparing one.

I told the lion off,
it ate half my bruised heart,
I do not mind, you see
I’ll replace it with iron.

I fed the cat my blood
Just a pint, you see
It loves it more than milk
It’s organic and red.

I did see the Eagle
before It plucked my eye
My twitching left eye
It never said thank you.

I dived into the sea.
I fed me to the shark,
The most reluctant shark
It ate me with no pleasure.

Amity4 🔏

The Type by Sarah Kay

Rukia's Blog

index

In 2015 I opened myself to Art; Fiction, Music, and Poetry mostly. It has been a wonderful experience; I read books, listened to poetry, heck, I even attended a Book Festival, and interacted with brilliant writers from across the continent. For reasons I am not sure of, the Type by Sarah Kay stuck with me in 2015. I have listened to it at least 50 times, watched on YouTube at least 20 times, and I still cannot get enough of it.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands or windows or mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may have not ever seen one before.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes, it is not…

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Grateful

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It has been a great blogging year for Amity.
Through thick and thin, you stood by her;
Clicking, reading, liking , commenting and reblogging.
Thank you for making this year most enjoyable.
We could not have done it again without  your love and support.
We say a big fat THANK YOU.:)
We send love and peace your way
To guide you through the new year  approaching.

With Love
From
AMITY, PEN AND MUSES.

Soul match

You name sits permanently on my lips

Your thought is engraved on my mind

My heart dances at the sight of you

These silly collywobbles won’t let my tummy rest

Yet, I will not claim your love

for your soul does not match my soul.

I see the desire in your eyes

You give your all,

You break the walls to let me in.

Still I cannot return your love

For this heart of mine long to beat for another.

Do not wait. Do not hope.

This soul of mine won’t settle for less.

Earth’s Seed

The Z Channel

Yesternight, I felt the earth move.
I  felt her rotate round her axis.
Am I the only one who felt her move?
They say I am the earth’s seed. Aren’t we all her seed?
They say my veins and arteries  are locked within the her heart, like the oak tree’s roots embraces the soil.

Yesternight my ears heard her melodious voice calling out of the sonorous  emptiness of her kingdom.
I felt the Pain in her gentle call
My heart responded with a tremor
as the echo of her ‘hello’
Vibrated  through my being.
They say she is me in flesh
I say we need to care for her as she devotes herself to our existence

Written by Amity.

She blogs at https://indelibleme2.wordpress.com/

Many thanks to Amity for being a constant presence on The Z Channel all through 2015, for being a friend, an inspiration and for agreeing to be featured…

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While you’re out there.

Friday thought from oreoluwade. Enjoy…

WORDIFICE

When you share your thoughts,
Or you ship your art,
Not once, not twice,
But consistently,
There’s every chance
A shaming party will be set up.
One that propagates an idea
That all you do
Is to be seen, again and again.

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Here’s the fact:
Putting yourself out there,
Of course is for recognition.
You alone can tell however,
If the recognition you seek
Is genuine relevance and meaning
Or the malaise of approval addiction.

Being accepted, and appreciated, and acclaimed is a kind of oil that drives the wheel of normal human functioning. That’s what I think.

While you’re out there, it’s left to you to tone down superfluous misguided intentions you might have for sharing or shipping.

Maybe then you can sleep better, blocking out voices that daily threaten to silence your shine.

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Proudly Fallen

justlyimprint

With every pace of display,

The Lizard allures itself with pride.

Carried away in a selfish vigour,

It sliped and fell into a deep well.

A suicide well executed.

It shook its head not for failure, but the pain.

Lingering pain with no gain.

Sheepishly, it crawled to a comfy corner.

A chunk of pride hard to swallow.

The weight of pride, a heavy price.

  • Drastevo

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Ingrate

sea

image : harrisonhayes.com

Them I so love, I let into my cove.

I offered them my widow’s mite 

To keep their tears out of sight.

Ingrate, spiteful , contemptuous lot,

ganged up to waste me by night.

Robbed me, broke me inside out.

dumped me on ‘Sheimon’s’ bight 

Nature must have joined their crew

Shunned my cry, wept on me.

Mercilessly, blinded my poor sight.

Poured so hard, mocked my pitiful plight.

How broken can a broken soul be

For them to leave to rest in pieces. 

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