ACCOUNT

There is no.

 More or less.

 Hungry full.

 There is no.

 Door wall.

 Boulevard.

 Very little.

 winter summer.

 Warning.

 Open full.

 Stop run.

 Word crown.

 No.

 A lot.

 Full.

 HASAN AKBAL

How the tides have turned

Oh how the tides turn;

once before there was peace

yet now darkness comes

our very existence

is but a shadow.

Oh how the tides turn;

like Jonah inside the fish,

we pray for freedom

yet if we are

would we be grateful?.

Oh how the tides turn;

we were once brave,

but now our courage fades

like the smoke it is

it falls never to rise again.

Oh how the tides have turned;

our words meant for blessing,

have now turned toxic

just like acid

we melt through

but for how long?...

© Adiela Michael Osiah. 

Beneath the clouds

Beneath the clouds

darkness spreads like fire,

our once lightened path

has lost its light

the same light we could see.

Beneath the clouds

our thoughts linger,

like they never did

our thoughts mattered once

but they're now lost to us.

Beneath the clouds

my tears drown me,

my smile was once real

but tears overtook me

I now wish to be free.

Beneath the clouds

I once had a dream,

now it's blank

it disappears into nothing

an emptiness worse than death.

Beneath the clouds

I saw a glimpse of light,

yes it was bright

but it fades nonetheless.

© Adiela Michael Osiah 

Above the surface

 Above the surface

our masks are all we see,

the same ones

that hide what's true

we cannot outrun them.

Above the surface

the scars that sleep

awaken to a new dawn,

my thoughts resurface

like the early morning dew.

Above the surface

our true nature slumbers,

the only thing we see

are mirror images

images of our true selves.

Above the surface

our tears are superficial,

only the soul knows

what pain exists within

these words are all there is.

Above the surface

our words never matter,

they once did

but it never shows

above the surface.

© Adiela Michael Osiah

©2022

STEPPE

 The sun bids farewell by taking its golden color,

Touching your temples like a busse in autumn.

Not by passing innocent people like that,

It leaves a warm smile to every living thing,

But cold, people are “sometimes” deceived.

Because human scent

It is in front of the sun’s autumn hello.

H.A.