I'm not a poet but I'm a great lover of Poetry. Back in secondary school I fell so much in love with Ambassadors of poverty because I was able to depict what the writer was trying to portray which talks about the ill of the society but I find it really sad and disheartening that all the poems you see littered around only talks about heartbreak, love, lust

Can we see something different like hardwork, look around you and paint a picture of what is going on around you and put it in a poem, make a representation of how things are in this century so that people from another century can look back at your work to have a glimpse of how things are

I came to this conclusion after seeing a translation of a poem which I will attach to this write up and I was short of words on how the poem is
It was written in Yoruba but translated to english

Lanshile:
I'm not a poet but I'm a great lover of Poetry. Back in secondary school I fell so much in love with Ambassadors of poverty because I was able to depict what the writer was trying to portray which talks about the ill of the society but I find it really sad and disheartening that all the poems you see littered around only talks about heartbreak, love, lust

Can we see something different like hardwork, look around you and paint a picture of what is going on around you and put it in a poem, make a representation of how things are in this century so that people from another century can look back at your work to have a glimpse of how things are

I came to this conclusion after seeing a translation of a poem which I will attach to this write up and I was short of words on how the poem is
It was written in Yoruba but translated to english

You obviously haven't been around long enough to peruse the poems for review section

Once upon a time, in a merry mood,
I wrote some lines, I thought were good.
I laughed aloud, though usually calm,
The words felt strange, like a joyful balm.

I called my servant, he came near,
A kind soul, with strength to cheer.
He took the paper, peeped inside,
The first line made him grin wide.

He read on, the grin grew bigger,
Chuckling sounds began to linger.
With each line, he laughed out loud,
His waistband burst, like a bursting cloud.

Buttons popped, he fell in a fit,
Ten days and nights, I watched, unfit.
I worried for that wretched man,
Sleepless nights, my eyes did scan.

But now I realize, with a simple thought,
Those lines I wrote, the joy they brought.
Laughter, it's a powerful thing,
Lifting spirits, making hearts sing.

So let us cherish moments of delight,
Spread laughter's joy, day and night.
For in the simplest poem or rhyme,

-By Olu Oshin