Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Home MIRROR'S CORNER

MIRROR'S CORNER

Everyone has got tense mood. Know the true mind of writers in this category. This is the place where writing meets with reality.

In the midst of the storm, In the rage of the moment, In the silent wake of unspoken words; Rhythm of the drum speaks, But lost in the wave of the moment, Silently expressing the word of the broken heart; Wishing for the skies yet...
An invisible spirit roams about, Just like a shadow trailing paths of both the healthy and unhealthy. The unforeseen force fighting for a soul, Sneaking into places unexpectedly. Fighting vigorously with a person just to collect what doesn't belong to it, Whoever wins counts...
Last night, my mother whispered to my ears. Alabi, you have grown to become a man- The moment one find his purpose on earth, He becomes a man. Your father has bequeathed his seeds unto you, Your oguro will rather come from a poe-tree...
When you give a ring, There's silence at both ends. Our text history, Is as full as space. Can we talk? Like we used to, Late into the dark nights, Sitting calm in terror. At a corner Watching kids play. Then I remembered how We'd run up and down corridors, Wiggling...
Experience they say; is the best teacher. You cannot be taught by life and wouldn’t remember the experience you learnt from it. I always thought life will present itself to you the way you wished but the reverse was...
An unquenchable fire was set in me earlier today about who hustlers really are. I see pictures of folks with a laptop, blinks and maybe cash too. Flaunting them to us without telling us exactly how it was made....

FIRE

Fire! It cleanses and destroys. With its heat; lives are saved or taken. One of man's greatest discoveries, One of man's chief fears, One of man's fascinations. The red glows within the lovely blue flint, Enticing to the toddlers' eye. Seductive is the warmth to cold...
If my simile is as dry as the dust of Sahara, Don't pour your Atlantic word to make it wet, My words seem to be a walking sun? Don't abuse them; I'm only using metaphor well. I might write my words to be...
The aesthetic well laid green lawn was the first indication of a melodic love story to come. So enticed, I was on my best self as I adventurously walked past the well parted footpaths. It was not long after...
Shackles around the neck as that of a bullet, Boots on the feet marching across the bare soil, Under the sun, under the rain fighting; In between and underneath the tress and leaves making it whisper with rustling, Battling with all might like...

SOCIAL COMMUNITY

40FansLike
126FollowersFollow
143FollowersFollow

POPULAR POSTS

MY FAVORITES