We Are Part

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ghanawrites.com/index.php/2016/05/09/we-are-part/

My poem was published on this site…
I will appreciate it if you check it out and share on facebook and others.
“The poem was written to honor the disabled. The pain and Isolation they go through “
I was inspired by an article written by Fatima Abdul Rahaman,  a young Ghanaian writer and a journalist.

“any time you love, reserve the “E” which stands for Empathy for the disabled, with that your heart will care”
~Bauer Sadique Anyame~

Thank you

Mindless heart

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Mindless heart,  would you ever think?
Ohw , never mind, you are a mindless heart.
Listen to what conscience Is saying,
“When you fall  again there won’t be a come back”

Your previous fall was a free fall,
It was love at first sight,
Soul cleaned your sores when you cut your self,
Nobody knew when you were bleeding internally,
Depression and pain told us.
You don’t need antidepressants nor tranquilizers to heal,
Together we are like the oak of Lebanon,
Soul and us will help you find a way out but
When will you ever grow up,
Do you need fertilisers?

All these experiences you still free fall.
Have you forgotten?
Look at your scars on memory, he is never happy,
there is no happy moments to watch in your dream safe.

Your best friend is the eyes, what he sees is what he convinces you to like and love,
Can he be trusted?
All that crocodile tears that soaks and drown us.
The same one when you are broken,he Cries.
What is his point anyway, when he cries?
Is it that he is sorry or he is sad he might lose you?
Well, we love him and we cant live without him.

Soul heard conscience and you contemplating on that new girl,
What is her faith?
Am tired of catch my breath after every drown in eyes tears. 
I hope she help mend your heart this time,
Remember there is no a come back from this one.

Ah, I keep forgetting you are a mindless heart.

By Bauer Anyame

Posted from BrO. Bawa Sadique (Attg)

Poetry

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Pardon me a poem whiles I drink a life lime, It’s definitely our time in space.
I guess we are better of without Einstein.

Everything ceases to become thin when we go further, but we will write in fewer words to fit a line, Both metaphor and art in our imagining mind.

The deepest understanding we attain is 6 feet  in the ground even If  the words rhyme.

So pardon me a poem.

I put the world into few lines,
It’s wisdom in parables and it needs a soothsayer to make them into marbles.

So pardon me a poet.

Pardon me a poem whiles I drink a life lime, It’s definitely our story in a life book. 
I guess we are writers of a novel.

These words are songs of the birds I heard and How do I dance to it.
Great poets who can unfold the world incorporated into few lines of poetry has fallen into mystery.

We protest to understand,
Let us bring back the dead,
I guess we are not better off without Frankenstein Shakespeare and Frankenstein Miguel de Cervantes.

When you pardon me a poem,
Summon me a poet.

By: Bawa Anyame

” I wrote this poem to describe how writers see their world and its so amazing and complicated, one thing is, that emotions and imaginations are few words in a row, making lots of how one perceive everything into few line of words. I wrote this because I wish I could understand and be inside the writer. So I will be glad if u write me a poem summon me a “soothsayer” ”

Posted from BrO. Bawa Sadique (Attg)

BrOkEn He-arT

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Sometimes in a broken heart, 
Life falls out of a broken glass,
love can still be found as the pieces Lies.

In my mind eyes, 
Art is in the heart,
I picked up a broken heart scattered into a HE and ART as they lie.
I picked up the broken parts and found, ART. 
ART is a recreation of a broken heart.
There is love in ART.

Written by: Bawa Sadique.
#A1000godspoetry

Posted from BrO. Bawa Sadique (Attg)

Crazy Moment

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Listen to another comment and laugh your souls out to the comets.
It felt life on a planet, when you kissed her on the pavement.
Crazy times when you need the full moon to appear with it twinkling star friends at a set night for a Proposal.
That is a fine romantic night in your imagination.
But it apologises with the cloud crying on your dinner night.
Sip some whisky or will you have some Cookie?
The times divorce knock at your door.
Hope is gone and your dreams are wet,  the sun is drawn and the moon is dark.
Where will you go?
The Telephone rings and suicide leaves a voice mail, could it be, you have lost your world and that is the choice you have to walk?
But No!! There is another world on your side, beautiful, such that the flowers don’t need the sun to thrive.
You haven’t looked at it yet.
A world that hope is for free and has no measure.
Yes!! you haven’t looked at it.
When your bucket of love is finished, fetch it from the one willing to share.
The one that you cry on, is the right branch for your shelter.
This branch is wet and strong to carry you to sleep.
You will never slip.
Look through your window and smile along with the dog playing in the lawn.
Why will you live in a cone its  end is narrow to escape?
Pain will soon be gone.
Call some friends over,
Serve your sorrow at dinner,
Make sure you cut the bigger piece and when you are choking,
there will be water to push it through.
That is the crazy moments,
The times we laugh over and run over.
The times that has passed.
Isn’t it old enough to rust?

Written  by : Bawa Sadique (free And accepted mason)

Posted from BrO. Bawa Sadique (Attg)

The Green Scarf

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Look at the eyes and tell which is lazy,  one lie is crazy, It fails to praise me because every time it’s scares me you always catch Me.
Am beginning to be you and you know when I am demoralized.
Pour me a wine,
I won’t spill the wine,
I will pine to sip it off your heart if I spill the wine.
If you distort your emotions, let me know if you are in line again,
Don’t let my tear fall and stain. The rain may fall but how long will it reign. It will never stay as long as a day.
How can my eyes see with my mind  blind.
I will glide to save your last tears when am incapable, please tell me am kind.
If I may fall of the chasm, bend me into flange because your care is fertile to grow my roots,
And I promise to bare you good fruit.
Together we will forbid Eden’s fruit and your world wouldn’t be brumous.
What is the myth of myself?
It feels misty,
maybe the clouds will allow me the morning to be proud for you.
If I become gritty and ever make you feel blue I will love the green scarf around you neck.
Let’s feast our time together, I like the taste of the yeast and cheese.
Your smile in the breeze call for a kiss, but if you want more serve me with wheat, that will be sweet.
If my heart ever screech, don’t leave maybe it needs you to grease.
My trust is Everest among the west and east, it’s scary to climb, all you have to do is to believe and never rest.
There is always a relief when the sun sets.
If this is a dream I will love to live in it than to leave.

Written by: Bawa Sadique

Posted from BrO. Bawa Sadique (Attg)

Club 47

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The day is rotting away bit by bit.
It’s eating up into the good day next to it.
It all jets away with a flash of a thunder,
The horseplay is under a large fan in a room with an odd number and
It’s full of weaves, prints, styles and shoes.
The face of tonight is the divas and they seem dim and blurry from the lobby I sit.
Am in a suit and tie dark and sparkly.
The flood light with Argon Neon blends bright their eyes, and tells truly what they are but not all zealots they seem to see and say.
Rotting energy eating away bit by bit and it takes some of the fine days with it.
A couple of those and am hallucinating new pairs of horns,
Maybe I grew them in hell.
The world is spinning round and round with no sound
Like a merry go round in the hall.
There are beauties on the pole
And one dollar seems to plays a role.
Chips on deck, a couple of hundreds and rolling dice serve the drinks.
Face cards, spade, club and ace playing a fluky game with ice in a glass.
And the escorts waiting for a winner, to get them a free dinner.
Get loud in the lounge, some drugs and pony shots
And probably some burgers at launch.
The music stirs the energy, fresh personality in the atmosphere
With whispers of demons everywhere.
There is no need to shout, what to do is to sprout your wings and dive
Because every live is impregnated into the louder pounds,
The couches are full of sexy tipsy lips,
The night is still young but we will pass out in an old dying day and a growing night.
As today perish,
There are plans for the future days in club 47.

Written by: Bawa sadique (me)

Posted from BrO. Bawa Sadique (Attg)