Angel Tears II. (Haiku)

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when heavens’ tears cease,
as groundwater banks plummet,
scorched roses still pray.

So my dear beloved, keep the faith; for He’s risen.

Feel free to read my first version of Angel Tears, as you bask in the splendor of the Easter season. Stay blessed and blissful.

Cheemnonso

The Thousandth Mile.

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It has been two years and some months since I launched this blog, and I vividly remember my first blogpost which was a limerick of some sort that goes like this:

consumed by pride, envy and scorn,

the feeble veil of my heart is torn,

one which no golden needle and silver thread can mend,

one which only the agape love from persons can tend,

salving all wounds from dusk till dawn.

Love (Adapted)

The poem very much typified my emotional state at the time and how I held all kinds of feelings bottled up, searching for meaning and answers in our nature. However, interest from a few persons piqued gradually and my world began to morph artistically. With the gradual growth of the blog, I have been able to find my channel of catharsis with some areas botched in shades of gray, and others smeared in resplendent hues. As such, many thanks to you all who have literally given me a thousand reasons to be grateful for the interest, love and support rendered towards the achievement of this milestone.

As always, it will remain a tremendous pleasure to keep putting smiles on your faces through my works as you have done so effortlessly on mine. Cheers to our next artistic adventure, and a thousand hugs and kisses to each and every one of you. Happy blogging.

Cheemnonso

The Genesis. (Villanelle)

Here comes the dawn of a new year,

and the heavens echo, my friend:

withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

and we shall not cower in fear,

in times when ripples need be amend,

because here comes the dawn of a new year.

.

a little odd some days may appear,

a little low we beings may descend,

but, withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

remove the mask, burn the veneer,

for upon ourselves we may depend,

because here comes the dawn of a new year.

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and as we go, bleak may seem the atmosphere,

with each road posing a dead end,

yet, withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

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For we shall dream less and toil more, my dear,

and the fruits we reap, we may not comprehend,

because here comes the dawn of a new year,

where withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

Cheemnonso