I am a poet, an Author on sweek, and a YouTuber on Jade Anibor channel.
Doing my own thing,
Is love once upon a time.
Here and there;
Shakes my pen,
And turns my mind into a monster:
I hate you writer!
You will not write.
But my husband is not listening.
But my children do not see.
Is all I hear:
A cup of tea
And a change of diapers,
Leaves me where I have always been:
A blank sheet.
Children do grow,
I encourage myself.
As school beckons become louder:
It is time!
I spank my honey to work,
And my lads to learning,
Leaving me alone to my thoughts.
At that moment,
It seems the poem:
Was written for me
And by me.
The school bell is heard,
The car horn is heard,
And we are back to the beginning.
So I choose to run away for a day,
O how romantic the park will be,
With my thoughts beating fast,
And my words moaning loud,
Making my pen go faster and faster,
Till I climax into a book
And give birth to best seller.
All seem a dream,
As I have my wish:
But still sit there,
And think of home.
Who do you want to be.
Who do you want to be.
I want to be the ugliest girl,
Whose beauty is x-rayed,
Whose hips are hidden in cloths,
And a certain style that tells you she is a writer.
The heart of a hundred year old virgin,
With a passion the world will never know.
The stare of an owl,
Who knows the stories night tells,
With the moves of a pregnant snake
Who is on it's way to delivery.
A smile of a nerd
Who studies body language and physics,
The company of a genius whose laughter is a lesson.
And thoughts of a wise old widow
Who has made her son king.
I want to serve my husband like a stay home mom,
Whose children do not know how successful their mother is.
Sit with friends who remember my foolishness,
And chat with strangers who wear my perfume,
But do not know.
Travel the world like a queen with an invisible crown,
Who eats with kings and beggars.
Walk into a bank like a regular
Who can never have an appointment with the manager.
Shop like a child whose home is the orphanage,
But with an investment to support the earth.
I want to be that face no one knows
But everybody calls.
A million guesses may not label me in an isolated place;
Only for me to reply with the voice of a smart but shy ten year old:
Yes, it is I.
Munching over time
Sitting all smiles
Pretty heart waxing.
© 2020 Jade George Anibor