Home » Poems » Best » Real Heman » Best Real Heman Poems

Best Poems Written by Real Heman

Below are the all-time best Real Heman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Real Heman Poem

Prison of Freedom

The world, a place dreamt perfect, orderly and friendly
Graced and paced, hospitable to both brave and cowardly
The timid forced turgid, the brave at times feeble and shake
At the forces from the four poles, leaving their lives at stake

The tell tale of the noble as the only capable to cope forces all
To quickly mutate into beings that can conquer and hell in stroll
You and I, apostles stemmed on great doctrine that constitutes
Making the world better and better, indorsing the ancient platitudes

We`re awed and perplexed by perspective of the world depending 
On the side that we fall, the pessimist or unrelenting
With every rise of the sun, a chance to choreography
And perfect authentic living, whether it ends in tidings or catastrophe

As the light dims every day, conscience deems us gutless or valiant
Therefore with every breathe, comes an effort for a man to prove gallant

Details | Real Heman Poem

Hey Ho

Persuade me otherwise
But it began as an accident
Fission of a product of a single incident
With fate sealed, hoped it’ll turn out prudent
I, the aftermath, with a seal sans consent
Then came ululations, in pretense to inaugurate my arrival
Pampered, nursed with velvet hands, my presence was primal
As the days spun backwards, promises turned to fables
Soft nursing hands withdrew, center-stage took squabbles
I thought I’ll be handed a manuscript
Bearing tricks through the life’s loco swift
Lonely and lost in the midst of the Congo jug
Location locus pure plug and chug
With no direction`s aide memoir
And in intermittent demur
Am tapering and wading through the hazy
At times choosing wrong and ending messy
Knee-deep and neck-deep in trouble I wallowed
For the one trick whispered to me and I pillowed
Its never late for fresh start, not stitched to a single road
Under the tidal wave I’ll spring overboard
From mud, I’ll shower clean and I’ll glee
From fortunes shall I not flee
If you see me not ramble
Am not out to gamble

Details | Real Heman Poem

Blossoms of the Midday

The journey of one thousand miles,
Now beginning with a single leap
How many times should I persuade myself?
To shelve my worry, trim my furry 
And just allow love?

What`s love other than being self-insufficient?
Other than reminiscing on how empty
One can be.
What`s love other than burning to be proficient?
Other than looking back at unbroken hefty
Stories that can’t be.

What`s love if you won’t find a mirror,
To look and behold your other self
Getting better and complete with the twilight
That scintillates from your other self?
What`s love if you don’t regret falling into one,
And getting your stand in a foreign kingdom,
Whose jurisdiction you’re to merge and be one,
And to her gaiety waft away boredom?

What`s love if you know you’ve met the real her,
That you dream atop clouds and heaven
That you see angel in her, goddess at par
That finally you can rest and in true love gladden
How will you talk about love,
Unless you’re ready to love?

Details | Real Heman Poem

Missive To Self

Hey buddy
I can’t tell how you feel
How you cope and slope
How you firmly grasp hot steel
Methinks you`re courageous.
In stoic life’s state, just state
no crime!
For you have one irreplaceable, valuable
and unbreakable thing.
You!
Remember a promise to self huh?
You promised.
You sang, and wrote and developed
emblazonment.
Conspicuous for sundry
No running out of optimistic posits
Amid endangered deposits
You promised to smile and not to tear down.
In somberness ought you not frown.
Didn’t you identify with dynamic?
Singing songs of the versatile?
They still echo loud as yesterday
Hope you won’t be tempted to yawn
Just in case you inhale toxic, killer and apoptotic ideas
They`re never audible, not at all edible
Their entrances just whispers, slowly waltz
Hey buddy, Give up!

Details | Real Heman Poem

Compulsory Concert

So rhythmic is the tune we dance everyday
Some call it song, some specify as a dirge
While to majority, its neither poem nor prose
But in concordance, we must sway, bray and lay
Our feet busy and entangled on the vast stage

The tunes are confusing, some claim to know them
Some sing after them, while majority just sway to look busy
Crowned is the virtuoso who plays the melody that
Carries and sends the myriad in carousel and nonstop pirouette

Keep swaying and in bloom merriment
For when your time to exit comes, be gracious to usher a new dancer
Unlike you without clue, be generous to guide on the right tunes to listen
The right moves to employ and the right partner to double up
We ‘all on the list for a compulsory dance, we must dance!

Details | Real Heman Poem

Ultimate Sacrifice

I run from memories, stained in enough felony
After a failed choreography to budge up new colony
To annul life, yet live the same life pieces harmony
Quick succession of bolding and evanesce jeopardy 
In confusion.

Constantly nudged, freely flowing tears of sorrow
Daily singing a dirge, hoping to let go and be free morrow
I wanted to be a murderer but ended with a savior’s furrow
It brought no good, for I doubled as accomplice, left to harrow
In self-mutilation

The ritual, so pricy, so costly, so sloshy
Double-forward, triple backsteps in a life model meshy
Seesawed between starvation on reality and biting on dangerous fleshy
Until I realized danger to obsoletion, victim to splashy
To extinction

Then I took on the sacrifice, with I the suffice lamb
Resounding echo of dead-self and alive in self-clump
The scarlet liquid flowed, undoing my members ramp
Anguishing to death, wishing for a comforting samp
The sweetened bitterness

I felt the life ooze much like a god obligate
Turned into macabre character, freer of the obstinate 
Stealing, killing, destroying, but for good that I hop`d reiterate
Then I stared in awful horror, to see the norm reinstate
Still lied, lifeless former self

How tell the dead from reborn?
As the newborns are christened and adorn`d
So did I christen and pamper the propon`d
In prep to complete the ritual, seal the forlong`d
With ultimate thrust

Without empathy, in untraced rigor, fresh bogger
Lenience had been my weakness, sympathy my divorced swagger
To the core of former self did I nail the perpetual dagger
Blade with the seven seals, seven oracles, one code stagger
Code of self-trust

The stage was laid for my final funeral rite
Deeply admired the deceased, explicitly feigning right
But for the newborn to thrive, the former had to brit 
Lowered six-feet deep, to never teleport, never victim rit
Never! Never!

I toasted and drank, to the lifetime achievement
Sans knowledge of life, yet determined to life merriment
To the cupful of my scarlet blood, my sacrament
I gulped to resuscitate, regurgitating lies predicament
Setting the seals ablaze!

Search for the ex no more, for the seals glitter blinds
Behold the newborn, his radiance and ambience binds
The link is broken, so broken, perpetually in grinds
Freedom at last, post-harrowing ritual, unlinked from hinds
Affirmation of the code!

I stood on dais of death,
Took the oath allegiance to death,
Delighted in life and death!

Details | Real Heman Poem

Seismic Longing

Along the corridors both in white overcoats,
I think that’s what unifies us, what charges the environment
Even with light shakes and occasional jades
With larks pretence to just keep the handshake a little longer
Every meeting moment, both a boon and bane
‘I really wish to see her, but again the sparks just fly uncontrollably’
I’m afraid she sees through my soul
Analysing every thought after thought
Drawing clear disparage of the person before her and the brave 
Lad still unveiled, my breath and britches
I felt her thoughts through her breath,
Her heart pulsating, her chest heaving up and down
Wasn’t that the motion of love?
As her mint white teeth confirms how pure her soul is
I immediately fix a tryst to warm myself on ambers of her purity
Besides the slow flowing waters I waited
Just how slow they were, waiting to witness affirmation of love
The setting sun a little ablaze, theming the evening with amber hue
Knowing that should it wait longer, might I be shy to look at my beloved
With silhouettes forming, dusk creeping in, the serene nature
Confirms how imaginary beings waited
How massive onlookers were to the secret nuptiality
How ready I was to my confession blatant make
Slowly she approached…
Each of her steps firmly knocking on my heart,
My mind played sudden games, reliving her before her arrival
Her sweet familiar scent, emanating from the surrounding green
With the blow of a breeze, pushing last of its wave down my core
Fresh roses in my hand smelt of her
Random bougainvillea repainting her graceful statue
Fresh lilies equating her to a goddess, ready to command my life
As I knelt on my one knee, affirming my allegiance
I saw her stretch forth her hand
She, holding her heart in her palms
Smiley, gaiety, my hands stretched forth to receive it
As I startled to the present,
At the touch of plastic kidney dish,
Hey Heman, stat blood samples please…
And the sound of running lab tap water
Really confirmed my daydream
Looking up, I stared into her smile,
Same smile
Same girl,
Same goddess!

Details | Real Heman Poem

Eden, I Land

I knew that am empty
Am hollow and through the harrowing
Sojourn to identify myself, to complete the missing piece
I had to explore, to swim oceans and cruise dilapidated Sahara
Just to ensure that I reach you
I kowtow, not at evanescing of my pride
But doing so gives me ride, sweeping me to the long coveted land of wonders
For many years I have searched, for decades I have excavated
The obscurity and voices of confusion long ignored
Coz inherently I knew how beautiful you are
The grace that embodies you
Elegance that you’re clothed in
And how you love roses at the setting sun
I saw myself gape at your sight, so heavenly, so angelic
Each of your members stood in readiness, dripping for the
Long awaited master
The ripples that ran through me, the joy that sprang deep within
As your fingers reached for my arm, expertly guiding me
Along the contours proficiently curved
Through the smooth pristine valley reserved
Unto the penultimate land of milk and honey
Let your sweet voice be my lullaby every night
Let my shoulder pillow your sorrows and rid fright
Let your magical touch caress my mind to stillness
To wipe all that I have encountered unto our fruitfulness
Let you, be me, be usness
Coz our union is magic inexplicable
With pristine tone of your skin incorruptible
In you, and you alone
Do I wonder in awe, at the works of god so marvelous
Flawless,
That I open my gates of love to you
To access bales upon bales
Of raw love unopened, untouched
Travel through my mind then
Listen to my heart’s rhythm
Caress through my thoughts
And always tell me,
I love you as you do!

Details | Real Heman Poem

I'Ll Be Right Back

Embroidery whose titan never gets credit
An empire whose founder is long forgotten
And exists only as an adage, whose tale relives
Long forgotten history
History that ministered hope to those dimming out
Shone paths to those whose itinerary was threatened by
Dark dusks and cloudy daytimes
A magnate whose reputation was the
Long run cup of poison, brewed enough to take his life
An army general whose subordinates conspired and unseated
Him, uncrowned him from glory with thorns
A trusted cognate who is declared illegitimate at the reading
Of a will
We all are victims of our previous milestones misunderstood
Fruitful efforts unappreciated and rightful places robbed
Once we were at the pinnacle but we only stare up at it
From the footstool we found ourselves suddenly
The peak of one mountain seemingly the bottom of the other
The tempting decision to drop off the pinnacle and grow wings
To land on the top of Everest or the slopes of Aberdares
Whichever the outcome let it be loud,
You were once at the top, and you are back there!

Details | Real Heman Poem

Verve of My Nerve

History, forgotten element of man`s life
Adage of forgiving and forgetting
Messing and proceeding on the solemn assembly
Expunging and blotting life-long terribly
but carefully committed and covered-up tracks.
If at all the inanimate had ears and eyes
We would all be at ransom for our lives
If mistakes could be made up and rounded
up to significance of our lives
humanity would erode to miniature
weeping and shrilling at thoughtless and
careless indulgence
Swoon and sulking thoughts convergence
would lead to no hope
Thanks to nimble of days
For with each that passes, history is made
A shun to excavate stone age 
Quite momentous to delve in space age.