Dream but don't love the sleep
The clock ticks to make days and weeks
Son, dream but don't love the sleep.
Love but don't fall a prey
The heart beats for both true and fake
Son, love but don't fall a prey
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
The poetry of OSEI KOFI. The thoughts, imagination, brainstorm and the inspiration. Poetry is the gateway to the soul, the emancipation of the mental. The pen is mightier than the sword and wounds or heal even more. To appreciate poetry is to embrace sensuality, sensitivity and sense. My life may expire but my words will not retire.....Osei Kofi
Blog Archive
-
▼
2009
(47)
-
▼
August
(41)
- THE COLOURS OF MY AFRICAN INHERITANCE
- IN THE SAME BOAT
- ODE TO EBONY
- LEMON AND LIME, CANDOUR AND CRIME
- SEX
- REWIND
- POETIC AFFLICTIONS
- POETRY AND POLITICS
- WIFE TO BE
- SO I WRITE
- NOVEMBER NORMS
- DRY TEARS
- BROKEN
- BANGALORE CUISINE
- BEHIND THESE PRISON WALLS
- HILLS AND VALLEYS
- 2009
- THE TESTAMENT
- WHEN PIGS FLY
- LEFT
- NEWS
- BUDDING
- PRIMARY LOVE
- FINGER LICKING!
- NUMBERS
- LOVE
- BALANCE
- DEW
- MOTHER'S BOY
- THE FATHER MOTHER
- BOOBY TRAP
- LIFE'S FEAST
- MY CAKE
- REVERSE (ESREVER)
- THE FATHERLESS
- GHANAIAN LADY
- THE CHASING GAME
- THE AFRICAN TIN CAR DREAM
- MY VILLAGE
- BENDED KNEES
- FIRST INSPIRATION
-
▼
August
(41)
No comments:
Post a Comment