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Samuel Donkor

Monday Morning

I love to sleep all day,
Or play all night.
But I must get all ready,
For Monday morning so tight.

I have to go to school,
On this very cold early morning.
Perhaps I wish was a fool,
Who would sleep till tomorrow?

But I am no fool,
On this very early morning.
Hence I must go to school,
So my friend will not be laughing

Waking up this day,
Drives all joy away.
The little ones play,
With gladness all day.

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On The Brook Of Right

Bang, bang, bang
Rifle sound over the brook of right.
The earth bows and sweet heavens weep.
Shout of death and laughter of happiness is craze.

Sound of red moon cry to pervert,
While scorching sun quells to leave no peace behind.
Trees over the hills marries the chanting sound of joy,
With the maim of serious rivers and dried streams.

Woes unto the wind as it strife,
To contend with breathing seas.
In the silent evening which is better than death
Is flog to die.
The sky clasp with sinking ocean,
And the wind arid to air bodies.
Bang, bang, bang
On the battlefield they sound.

Boom, boom, boom

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I Wish I Was A Heavenly Angel

I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would watch and protect mankind
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must play in my own kind

I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would pray for those in sorrow
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must suffer the torment of borrow

I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would worship my god day and night
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must fight for my own right

I wish I was a heavenly angel
For I would always cling to my sword
But I am no heavenly angel
Hence must fight the pain of my fault

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Though I Love

Though I love, I do not know what love is,
Though am sick I do not know what I am sick of
The beauty of love, run heavily indebted through
And through any blood
Verse 2
But in silence I walk; near the beach path where grains of
Sand from heaven falls.
Still wondering what indeed I am so much sick of
Perhaps the anecdote I would find to relieve me;
Of the pain I dare.
Through and through again; life is a pain indeed.
Whose secret, is buried alive and decay in the darkest
Cemetery called love.

Looking ahead, blinking two times as fast as my brains
My heart fair approach far of from a distance,
Walking up that path, the sun praises her in delight,
Though he jealously stole my words in silence and in fear.
I found I could not utter a word, while she viciously walks up
Pass me.

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The Vision

Obscurest night I lay asleep
After the cold sun had beaten me to death
From the holy night a voice echoed
Beholding my lifeless body to walk and talk
In a vision certainly like a dream

I meet death on his way
With three friendly accomplice
Whose wolfish eyes cast a jealous glance at me
Stand aside! They bide me
Like a sea turtle I strove to dry shod

Masking there face like newly ushered thieves
Ready to devour any thing on their way
As the spoilt brat of lazy rich men
Their protrude stomach blithe with satisfaction
Being so admirable like a plague

One by one the entered
The little tinny house near the old grave

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The Young Lover Of A Thousand Lovers

Curiously he walks up this steep path,
His life brought to an end he design
Embracing his true nature in error
And on the thread mill of life he spins continuously
Thinking profoundly of his greatest agony
Now he is forced to take a walk
With his pen in his hand like the mad man he insulted
Shattered like the glass out of the hand of a maiden
The young lover of a thousand lovers
Having to contend with the struggling oceans
He brought disaster upon himself
While he walks up that steep path
With his forehead embedded with the holy mark of confusing
Every stranger turns to gaze upon him and wish to know what he thinks
Such a sorrowful young lover,
The architect of his own pitiful fate
The tyranny of loves tenderness envelopes his soul
Such sweat sour emotions lies in his heart,
The management of a thousand lovers
Look at him, a young lover destroying himself of a thousand lovers

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My First Kiss

In the bed of crimson joy
Lies a baby boy
Whose parent begot him?
Through the mighty locks of the tongue

Yet as he grows
And everyday as he moves he frowns
Because he does not believe
In the mighty devil called kiss

Yet still he frowns
At every girl he meets a dawn
Are the girls mad? He says
Or do they find means to kill

But as his heart grow older
He found out he could not hold on
So he must get the girl
That he despise so much as dirt

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When I Saw A Beautiful Lady

I.
Near the fountain close to the river,
I saw a gentle lady
Picking wild fruit and flower,
Her dress was as radiate as a dove's skin.

She stirred and I quivered
She redrew her gaze as that of a cat on a moony light,
Like the fairy I have never seen before,
She continued with her toil, with those hands I crave for comfort

On this early morning her beauty lavishes
And the sun reflect on those glittering eyes,
Like the vampires on a ceremonial night
They would sing and dance till they dropp dead

Wishing hopelessly to save her from the jealous sun up there
Though indeed fear grip my hand unintentionally
As I walk down to the estuary, fear obtrude me,
That she might the fair goddess,

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By Night The muses told me.

By night the muses snatched me away, in to their
loveliest
Abode where the gods grow fond of. But poor I am in word to describe
The heavenly refinement of this humble paradise.
Laying me helplessly on this sour grass and looking into the early skies as a lover
On the tour of painful love and yet whispering in my ears as my ears quiver for answers
My dear poet the fairest of them all, whose heart is as loveliest as a thousand bouquets of roses laid by the lover's bed.
Grow within your thought the learning of love and let the world be indeed a beautiful place for you.

Though I do not challenge your words great muses, whose radiate skin bring light in darkness, whose word flow from your mouth as you were present when the world came to being, my great and wonderful muses, whose song feels the heart of the faint lover and bring to tame the proudest heart of the lion on a mid day hunt.
Your beauty I as a mortal i dare not compare any beauty with.
How should I love, how should I give my heart and not get pain in return,
You trained my heart and though I am weak, spirit me away in to your humble blossom
And let me rest my head on your golden lap.
For my lips are so moisten with words from my heart, I am not in control of my self.
If I, a lover of a thousand women, how then should I, a god like me
In mortal flesh prevent my pleasures for over taking me.
Hence my muse answered,

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When I Climbed The Mountain Because Of Love

I.
Do not ask me to give you a gleeful smile
My worst female devil
Up on the road that leads to the mountain a thousand mile
Lays the gate of love that lead up to heaven.

Walking up like the corps on a deadly Sunday evening
The birds chirp and insect screeched
On this dark lonely day
My head and heart begins the very argument I started

My fears, my trust, my love disappears
Allow me to cry my tears out in plain words
For the heart of the poet lies in deep grievance
And his legs grow tired on this long journey to the mountain.

Where should I begin from, oh cold, cold night
Sitting here alone in this place the devil dares not venture
Should I curse my self for giving my heart out on a silver platter?
On should I bless my self for this tragedy?

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