Adesanya Debo
I am a prolific poet and author. I have many published and unpublished poems and short stories. I am also an English Language and Literature teacher with years of experience in writing and editing.
Member Since: 3 months ago
๐ Adesanya Debo ReCircled: Feelmale
I'm the gateway to life. Left untended to for life The world doesnโt desire me But milks me to live I must stunt in thorns To make man grow Yet my tears and sweat Glide man to the summit Man pounds me to sow seed But when I germinate My seed is covered in hisses of neglect He says Iโm a female I become a useful waste I must feel maleโs malevolence Like water, I must quench his sex Like a slave, I must maid his males And gloss over his ego My organs are priceless He casts lot on my brea...
Feelmale
I'm the gateway to life. Left untended to for life The world doesnโt desire me But milks me to live I must stunt in thorns To make man grow Yet my tears and sweat Glide man to the summit Man pounds me to sow seed But when I germinate My seed is covered in hisses of neglect He says Iโm a female I become a useful waste I must feel maleโs malevolence Like water, I must quench his sex Like a slave, I must maid his males And gloss over his ego My organs are priceless He casts lot on my brea...
๐ Adesanya Debo ReCircled: Reminiscent
#poetry #AfricanChildhoodmemories #ChildhoodinAfrica
๐ Adesanya Debo ReCircled: Reminiscent
#poetry #AfricanChildhoodmemories #ChildhoodinAfrica
๐ Adesanya Debo ReCircled: Paradox of Metaphors
My story, what a tale! A paradox of metaphors With plum plot Has a deeply shallow taste Told by a strong fragile mind With a stammering oratory Life was good When the bud opened The field was green When the plants were virgin HIS breath made things work Soul sold no souls Blood has a colour My life enjoyed life Like a laughter Men were real That was my story Until she snuck out Without a faring farewell I waited, a forlorn wait But, like a vault, Her eye remained shut My eye lost its drops...
๐ Adesanya Debo ReCircled: Paradox of Metaphors
My story, what a tale! A paradox of metaphors With plum plot Has a deeply shallow taste Told by a strong fragile mind With a stammering oratory Life was good When the bud opened The field was green When the plants were virgin HIS breath made things work Soul sold no souls Blood has a colour My life enjoyed life Like a laughter Men were real That was my story Until she snuck out Without a faring farewell I waited, a forlorn wait But, like a vault, Her eye remained shut My eye lost its drops...
Paradox of Metaphors
My story, what a tale! A paradox of metaphors With plum plot Has a deeply shallow taste Told by a strong fragile mind With a stammering oratory Life was good When the bud opened The field was green When the plants were virgin HIS breath made things work Soul sold no souls Blood has a colour My life enjoyed life Like a laughter Men were real That was my story Until she snuck out Without a faring farewell I waited, a forlorn wait But, like a vault, Her eye remained shut My eye lost its drops...
Reminiscent
Under the ragged canopy Of the friendly mango tree Gathered the cheering children To eat a tale from a sage We have no foe to fear Because the moon was with us We game the rodents for traps But oft bitten by crawlers Venoms spread but leaves cured As we trudged the wood in team With nets of bites and stings We earned hunter's senses When we besieged Agbalumo tree We filled bowels and bags on the tree But egbere also cherished cherry His cry scattered us in diverse cardinals Hi...
Paradox of Metaphors
#poetry. My story, what a tale! A paradox of metaphors With plum plot Has a deeply shallow taste Told by a strong fragile mind With a stammering oratory Life was good When the bud opened The field was green When the plants were virgin HIS breath made things work Soul sold no souls Blood has a colour My life enjoyed life Like a laughter Men were real That was my story Until she snuck out Without a faring farewell I waited, a forlorn wait B...
My Story.
My story, what a tale! A paradox of metaphors With plum plot Has a deeply shallow taste Told by a strong fragile mind With a stammering oratory Life was good When the bud opened The field was green When the plants were virgin HIS breath made things work Soul sold no souls Blood has a colour My life enjoyed life Like a laughter Men were real That was my story Until she snuck out Without a faring farewell I waited, a forlorn wait But, like a vault, Her eye remained shut My eye lost its drops...