love poems to english

1

English is the pride in my abject saliva

That flows to my African persona

And cleanses the tongue of its insecurities

Then inflates it with the authority of eloquence

English is the diction of raw love

Whose lyrical notes are lovebirds thereof

In the excited phase of singing love songs

While sensual English pierces to her soul

English is the queen of my heart

And my heart is fertile like Aladdin’s mat

Ready to explore the width of the lexicon

To express my thought according to the dictionaries capacity

English is the mother tongue of novelty

Whose alphabets are arranged to exquisite mastery?

And so i hope to teach my ink laureate writings

That is inscribed on my soul’s tablets

2

There is no expression to surpass English it-self

As one of the multitude books stuck in the shelf

But every minute countless of books are being written

And remain unwritten to the hearts composition

There is no language to beat such beauty

And the tongue is not being given a cumber duty

But it’s sliding smoothly out the parting lips

As gentle waters flowing through a brook

There is a fount of where the water flows through

And when i sit by my favorite bough

Observing the source of pure spoken English

I become the master of the English craft

Now, my thoughts have all freedom, no cage

They might change into a dreaded rage

Or remain as temperamental as the clouds

But sure i feel rudy expressing my feelings

3

The world is such a tarnishing silver

And rather than opt as a non believer

I believe in the religion of pure poetry

That calms the heart by composing a song

Songs can be found in the well or waters

And it’s more lasting than things that glitters

But stamping your authority with an ink

Is the link between the dead and his name?

So what is this frail hand awaiting?

When the distance of the journey is gaping

And soon my brain is washed of all this English

Then my mouth is coy to speak in pride

Then the English that is heard is graveyard English,

Death, the pall, the shroud, the coffin, the cemetery

The mourning cavalcade, the epitaph, the ashes rite

The forgotten memoir, the abandoned remembrance of your title

4

English is the humility and pride of perspective

That makes a proud man speak abusive

But cushions a wise mans words as a lullaby

That sings the foaming dragon to sleep

English is the balance of a square table

As that of the chips on a pool table

And that man speaking dangerously with words

Shall succeed to gamble the negotiation back and forth

So he who is speaking is swaying someone

And whose words as a tap have begun to run

Must be doing so to deceive your intelligence

By coating his lips with sugar and honey

Then he who is writing his daily affairs

Of his sweat, his turmoil, and his fears

Should at least be given an attention of ears

As he speaks that which bubbles his conscience

5

English is the fragrance of my mouths breath

And whose live giving is a refreshing health

For he who speaks more years to his age,

Or he who crucifies his affairs with his words

English is the measure of loves expression

And the width that equates passion

So there are no limits to the presumed borders

As the world is small but still its size is insurmountable

English is the modernization of the civil age

English is a lost and unfound poetry page

That if its lyrics are shared by all men

There will be no cause for sweat or blood

English is the fame of a mans life account

If he can speak his mind without having to daunt

Then he can become a loyal laureate

That wrote English books from his thought

6

English was dragged to our motherland

From the port shores of Sunderland

To the transformation of our illiterate clan

And now we all crave fair education

I can never regret completely colonialism

But i regret in extreme fascism and racism

To he that brought English to our huts

Is forgiven for the pain that he brought

I thank the table that gathered English to a language

From where it spreads to all our lesser linage

And the pauper now too can learn

From the English expressions of his own heart

English now is joint with our native dialect

And together they flow like gentle rivulets

For English is the language of peaceful men

That negotiate free, and fair, and flattery

7

Mere English brings out the legend in a man

When he is writing mythology with his hands

He is only using English to express his expressions

But English is by far the greatest expression

Men have tried to explore the use of English

And they have ended as bards distinguished

As men that shall die buried with novels

And who thought further than the suns distance

Men that construct the fables and folklore

Are men whose minds are wild and exploring

Not someone that contains his thought in a shell

Because he is fretting his thoughts will be loose

Men have produced English excitements

By what they have written in installments

And when the final book is written by an author

He writes his epitaph to the tale of life

8

If i can share with you all the words

That my slow hands cannot afford

To write all the poetry that lays in my heart

But a few are salvaged from my soul

If i could jot down everything i assume

Then my books will continue to be consumed

By the pregnant ink due to conceive

Myriad ballads that i personify into mythology

English is the language of God

Words are more deer than gold

For what is written in your heart

Has a channeled path to your tongue

Therefore i search for sheer pleasure

And utilize every task of leisure

That yet is an easy kind of work

Having to configure the truth in your own way

9

When I’m wondering why i love English so

And why ordinary words are escaping to the soul

There is no clean explanation for passion

It’s just an uprising from the test of time

Come there seasons of snow and winter

Come here by this burning log, come thither

Let words heat up an igniting spark

To cause warmth from its fortitude

Come there rain that washes away name

And scatters them in repulsion to fame

Let all the toilers have no fret of this

For the drop of their sweat is germinating barrenness

Let English coat and polish me with pride

Let me not be coy as a blushing bride

But let me stand before the queen and the king

Having the depth of my heart to proudly speak

10

Let English not fade like lowering sunset

Let it rise like the morn in Tibet

Where the truth rises in the east

And pacifies beyond the western hemisphere

Let the light of truthful English

Upset the eyes of the foolish

And teach him the truth with words

That rises boldly like the surging morning sun

Let not the darkness of corrupt languages

 Turn us into radicals and savages

But let us speak the English of assurance

Whose voices are meeker than a humble man

Let us not fear the horrors of darkness

Or feel the conviction of self-righteousness

But all men should speak by the justification

That he is a sinner by birth and rite

11

English is the dictator of the world’s currencies

For he who sings with more melody

Compels the crowd to dance to his strings

While he might never listen to his own lyrics

English is void like when the earth was made

And the world is like a comely maid

Whose heart is taken by the eloquent man

Who has composed that void-ness into sound songs

English is the centre of all interactions

That bonds tighter, and secures relations

Thereby we can feel love and trust

Because a true friend speaks straight to the soul

English is by the means i come to you

Giving the cow grass for him to chew

But such big teeth can eat only grass

While the cork without teeth can eat much more

12

English is the spring of the purest lingua

Flowing through our lips as a seductive singer

That entices the ear to listen

To the sounding gush of the gliding river

English is the first of all mothers

And the first of all my lovers

For the time i spend seeking English

Nothing eats deeper more into my time

English is a door-knob wanting twist

And this could be my greatest hearts wish

That all men learn the syllables of English

And study deeply the conjunction of its construction

When the door-knob of English is twisted

There in that room is a place sacred

Where great novelists and bards have trespassed

And found that the inspiration room is a concentrated sepulcher

13

English is an antidote that soothes a writing wound

And some people are like a brainwashed foetus mound

Whose umbilical cord connection to the mother is English

For words join the soul to the mere flesh

There are some words longer than a rope

Then holding that rope you can grope

Being led into the life of another man

Because his words have revealed his wretched life

English is the forbidden apple i hand to you

And English can be the last supper grail too

But its Decense is in the tongue of a man

Having being empowered the authority to make or brake

I shall rebuild things with mere English

And write the doom back to bliss

For once everything was as pure as English

But now things are rotten like a corrupt tongue

14

When some people claim of only words

You might think it’s rather absurd

That a king should be compared with a pauper

But what if the pauper has meaningful words?

Then with those words he can sing to that king

And fire him with a tranquilized sling

That shall make his words as soft as oil

And he shall sing that king a peaceful sleep-song

Now he conforms that king to his allie

He has done this only with the power of words

And by this i play gently to a feared king

Who has conquered all the territories of the west

Listen you king to pauper English, as i sing

Let me serenade your eardrums with impoverished tales

And let English join the rich and the wretched

Because they are speaking one beautiful language