Poetry: A joy or a call to the grave

Like A Snail

I would not but give regards

Those layers that capture my regards
Entangled with different connection
Oily pestle, slowly, searching for signals
Like an antenna radiating the four cardinals
Little! Little! I observed.
Coming up, showing up
Moving from side to side
Springing out the chains,
Beating the shells to surrender to the force
Mouth opened, ready for the paradise love
Ohh! Heavenly enjoyment!
The past, quickly forgotten
The present, remembered.
Welcome oh winter!
Just an handful, body reacted
Just a taste, thought lost
Just a swallow, vigour entangles madness
Get me a minstrel’s seat to envisage
Is that liquid or solid? 
A starch or big four legged produce?
No! Sticky or oily?
Colourless or watery?
A joy or a call to the grave?
Clueless and thoughtless, everything turns sacred.

 Written by Peter Temitope Aluko

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I am the Founder and Executive Editor of Core Magazine. I hold a Bachelors Degree in History and International Studies from Bowen University. I am the Author of "DARE TO RESEARCH". I have written and published over 16 Academic Research Articles. I believe in an ideal that all persons irrespective of their race, class or status can influence the society with creative writings and constructive thoughts to the point where they can succeed and develop their skills to seize rare opportunities.

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