kjumai

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Aspiring to writing ������better cos art ��is life. Twitter-kjumai2

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  • kjumai 3w

    Í

    Píck me up or shall I fall again?
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 5w

    ԀƎᴚℲƎↃ⊥ION

    So stunning was she!
    Walking down her aisle on the paths of the streets.
    Treading pass foretime along sides white and black.
    Dance tapping in those black shoes of hers.
    In a petite beau avalanche of a dress.
    Stunning was she still, hopping.

    I would like write to you in French.
    But for this...I have no other way to express.
    Past white and black.
    Still in black and white.
    Her steps forward led her to the unforeseen unknown.

    A sharp pain in her chest.
    Mild as it was.
    It dug into her veins in her heart.
    Striking what wasn't meant to be touched.

    She couldn't call out for help.
    Cos at that very moment, she lost her voice.
    Her steps.
    Her right foot.
    To the rest part of her
    The whole street stopped.
    All activities were on hold.
    As if time wanted to join in the furor,
    Life itself paused.

    Tears ran.
    In drops yet in a stream.
    Gushing fast and also slow.
    Her right foot began.
    Began its journey to the world's variable.
    Bits by bits.
    She went apart.
    Like ashes after fire's afterwards.

    Hmm...I still hear her pains in my head.
    I still remembered that day I saw her last.
    Stuck between time's idleness,
    She still went apart.
    Fading away.
    Until it reached her bosom.
    To her hair,
    As pretty as it were,
    Frozen in the wind which stopped due to time's joblessness

    Shall I tell or say to you,
    What was last of her?. It was her tears.
    Still gushing like a tap.
    Still in the wilderness of her becomeness.
    Right there she began.
    Right there she ended.
    It began again.
    Life continued again.
    Time thought it was about time it left.
    'Everything is boring'
    'No life!'.

    'Ouch' a woman in a snowy dress exclaimed.
    'What's the matter, honey?' her husband asked her.
    'Nothing but it feels like I have been struck by a person's sorrow'
    'Eish, don't be silly'
    The woman smiled.
    Unknown to her, what she felt was really of sorrow.
    A lament of a young lady.
    In whose tears were her last moments.
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 5w

    Read it backwards after the poem finishes. Was going through my journal and I found this.

    #kjumai #mirakee #writersnetwork #mirakee_assistant #journal #writers #poets #writing #writersblock #mm #diary

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    I lost in an infinite war.
    Though I'm in a belittled world.
    I'm here as I've always been.
    But not forever as I've always seen.
    I am alive.
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 8w

    THE SHADOW

    Have you heard?
    The shadow of a man scares even him?
    An area where light rays from a point source can't reach?
    According to science.
    In this case, the point source's the moon.
    The dawn moon.

    He wakes.
    From his deep sleep with shock and fear.
    "O God , what's the time?".
    He's phone's gone dead.
    There's been a power outage since he remembers.
    With the adrenaline in him,
    He got up from his bed.
    Dashing with swag to his backyard.
    'hhh' he looked back.
    Terrified.
    Thinking he saw something move.
    As he took a step forward,
    He saw a figure beneath him.
    Thinking that the person was above of him,
    He looked up.
    Didn't see a thing.
    He did all of this, remaining in that same spot
    As he advances forward,
    The figure's moving in his same direction.
    Exhibiting his every move.
    'ttt, what a deceit!' He ended.
    'Just another of the dawn's moon's trick'.
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 8w

    AWAY

    02:25...........

    He looked again, to be sure he was reading well.

    'Where am I?'

    He asks, as he found himself by the seaside ashore. Waves roaring at him probably scolding him for the mess he's got himself in. He took a deep breath remembering what she last said, her very last words to him,

    'and you'd be gone by the twinkle of an eye,... a payback'.

    Wanting to get the bad omen out of his head, he shook his head as if to say

    'No, I oppose it'.

    He continued to walk on the never ending path. As he aced further, he saw a door afloat. He reached for the rusty handle, put his right leg in and BEHOLD!...caught off guard, he traveled back in time.
    Back to the early years.
    Back to the days where farewells were sorrows.
    Back to the places where return was forbade.

    'Enough is enough. I have seen the needed. I want back, now!. Take me back'

    The all white bearded men looked at him with the craziest of looks.

    'I think this one has lost his head o'er' said Jack with his old Scottish accent.

    ' Well include that one too' James added pointing to the youthful lassie squeaking under the table.

    'She's possessed' Jacob joined in. 'Well, to hell with all of thy shenanigans, let's get to it' He said as they all cheered.

    He continued but this time with sanity,

    ' Oi, please where is the lavatory?' He asks the chauffeur.

    'Over there, to the slight left'.

    'Thanks'.

    Should I say, confusion was getting the best of him? cos he took the right!...the freaking RIGHT!

    He entered into the room, the one on his RIGHT, only to see what was shocking. Something falls.

    'Who's there? Is anyone there?'.

    As he treads to find the noise he heard from across, his feet came to find a box of great design. One which was archaic and among the rarest, expensive. He picked it up, took a chair and sat with half his buttocks. He opened it with care, luckily no lock was attached. He found a wine bottle inside, one almost a hundred years old. He could tell the age cos he owned a winery. He took it out, a dark brown tinted glass bottle. He uncorked it. There was a scroll made of papyrus inside. He took the papyrus and opened it, loosening the knot on it.

    'Oi,...to my dearest and only one, William Harvey Einstein'

    He paused, shocked, cos that was his name. 'Maybe he's my descendant' he concluded.

    '..., I write to you telling you of my pains and apologies. I had no other solution my dearest. I told her, Emile, about you, she's coming for you as she came for me. SAVE IT,... PROTECT IT! ...your DNA, cos you are of my precious creations. And
    ...lest I forget, LOOK BACK'

    As he turned, before he could utter a word, he was silenced, hit on the head, dead. As were those before him laying on the floor, a HUNDRED of them!.
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 8w

    A cry.
    ...
    ....
    ' I should start first with that.
    Shouldn't I ?
    Well to all my neighbours, I und love.
    Will we meet again?...nope, I think so not.'
    ...
    Saying my byes to my whilom home,
    With open arms I welcome a novel umbworld.
    As I greet the airs of the ward,
    A kiss from the light rays redden my cheeks.
    'Am I this welcomed?'
    As I was entwined in my thoughts,
    I became more oblivious of the rather four-shaped space.
    I still was on the bed
    So I thought, cos it was rather hard to lay upon.
    The doctor, a fair-skinned, took the forceps, then put it back.
    She mistook it for the scissors as she was trying to ascertain if I was alright.
    Having cut the only thing which attached me to my erstwhile,
    panic was then written all over her face.

    'She isn't crying'

    'She isn't crying'
    'Nurse get me that,
    NOW!'
    My mother was worn out. She couldn't scream , she held it in but I could still see it all over her face that all wasn't well. Doctors scents were everywhere. They smelled different from my mumsy.
    'Well all observations are enough. Time to let the world know I'm alive'.
    As I opened my mouth to cry, I see tears run out of her eyes.
    'Is she sad?'
    Doctors made their chin go up, a line appeared from their jaw, a curvy one.
    Well that was it before I begin to bore you all with how the new world seemed.
    ©kjumai

    #kjumai #myqoute #mirakee #writersnetwork @mirakee @writersnetwork @writersbay #2020 #layers #poets #poetry #writers #intothefirstlights #lady #old #diaries #qoutes #poems #writers #tobe #mothers #mumsies #stories #microtales #tales #sales

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    INTO MY FIRST LIGHTS

    ...
    Saying my byes to my whilom home,
    With open arms I welcome a novel umbworld.
    As I greet the airs of the ward,
    A kiss from the light rays redden my cheeks.
    'Am I this welcomed?'
    As I was entwined in my thoughts,
    I became more oblivious of the rather four-shaped space.
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 9w

    LAYERS

    Have you once quivered?
    Owing to the trepids of being shattered,
    Broken.
    There's a figure...I say
    all the time but people
    look at me with "what's this one saying" look.
    It's a steep stairway below.
    Darkened.
    And deep down she goes.
    Burrowing into my inner depths.
    Shoving the "so called dusts".
    Telling me my inside's "*rott'en*".
    "So it needs *wash'in*".
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 9w

    DREADED IN THE DEAD ME
    I write with my heart.
    To the pieces of *mon* heart.
    Shattered like broken
    pieces of glass in disarray
    all over the place.
    My red plump of flesh
    has turned silicate.
    Hardened like cement
    and sand mixed.
    As I plea to my
    lying on
    concrete
    the floor,
    A maple leaf
    fell on my dreads
    A scent followed.
    A cherry s
    e
    n
    s precise.
    e be
    s to
    My whole o
    n awoke.
    e
    A tear came out of me.
    Nothing to feel.
    As I was dumbfounded
    In my dilemma.
    The concretes went apart.
    It turned sand.
    Then separated from the limestone.
    My eyes were starting to deceive me.
    So I thought.
    The
    all
    white c
    He oncrete
    art of
    On mine.
    ce a
    g
    a
    i
    n be
    P came
    l a
    u
    m flesh.
    Tu p of
    rn
    ing
    In red,
    to b
    l
    o
    o
    Mix d.
    ing with plasma and
    The rest of its constituents,
    It started to coagulate.
    Plump,...plump,...plump.
    It became.
    And once again,
    it formed
    a joyous being.
    It flew with all of it
    ATP
    to within me.
    And I,
    Was alive again.
    Not dreaded in the dead me.
    ©kjumai
    ....
    .....
    ......
    #kjumai #myqoute #mirakee #alove #alive #heart #writersnetwork @mirakee @writersnetwork #ATP #blood #silicate #glass #2020 #dreads #dead #me #diaries #poetries #poems #poets #writers #writingcommunity #igwriters #wordporn

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    DREADED IN THE DEAD ME

    The
    all
    white c
    He oncrete
    art of
    On mine.
    ce a
    g
    a
    i
    n be
    P came
    l a
    u
    m flesh.
    Tu p of
    rn
    ing
    In red,
    to b
    l
    o
    o
    Mix d.
    ing with
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 9w

    Faceless
    I stare into your eyes.
    Wanting to see you smile.
    But what I see is nothing but your nothingness.
    I rock you.
    To not hear your cries.
    But oh lord my heart’s the one's crying.
    I feel joyous that my months of carriage
    Has come to an end.
    I wait for your smiles,
    Your laughs,
    Your cries,
    And all the smell of poops.
    And to touch those tiny little feet.
    But what I hold is a body full of mud.
    Stuck with nothing but lifelessness.

    I cry.
    I laugh.
    With all the sanity left in me.
    I’m in a dilemma.
    Stupefied.
    All those months of patience.
    Wanting to see God’s creation.
    But…I saw nothing.
    Still.
    No laughs.
    No smiles.
    Can’t hear your midnight cries.
    Oh my flesh!
    I can’t see your any structures.
    All I see is flatness.
    A thin piece of clay.
    Faceless.
    ©kjumai

    #kjumai #writersnetwork #myqoute #lockdown #cries #faceless #mirakee @mirakee @writersnetwork #writers #poets #writingcommunity #poems #dilemma #patience #nolaughs

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    FACELESS

    I cry.
    I laugh.
    With all the sanity left in me.
    I'm in a dilemma.
    Stupefied.
    ©kjumai

  • kjumai 9w

    Our stolen memories
    Have now turned memoria.
    Our once covert freelancing
    Is no more clandestine.
    Is this it?
    Our last bus stop?
    You purloined my heart and
    now you let it slither,
    wrecked?
    Beckoning the specters of the secret us.
    ..
    ...
    ....

    ��
    ��
    #kjumai #2020 #myqoute #mirakee #writersnetwork @mirakee @writersnetwork #memories #poetry #poets #writers #heart #specters #secret #beckoning #stolen

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    You purloined my heart and
    now you let it slither,
    wrecked?
    ©kjumai