It all began with the word. The power to express thoughts, feelings and emotions. Poetry is Omari's passion. Featured below are poems written by Omari. Click on the arrows to scroll through the poems. Also be sure to check back often as Omari adds new poems and poems from the existing collection.
The clouds look like perfectly nestled kids
sprawled across a floor ALL in white fluffy sleeping bags
@ a sleepover with full disco ball strobe lite moon
hanging them with a rainbow haloing it.
And as i stared in awe,
i thot..mmm...they must be kids in a nice area
cuz if that were the hood..
the clouds woulda' been all over the damn place
with holes all in the sleeping bags!
They wouldn't be all lined up so perfect and shit.
And the sleeping bags definitely would not have been all white,
and they wouldn't have had so much fluff if any
and they woulda' had holes all in em.
There wouldn't be no halo!
The moon woulda' jus been rockin a wave cap.
I stared thinking..
man demographics are so different in our world...
even in the sky at night..
on a midnite ride home from work...
3,000 miles away from the sky above my family.
I lament the green eyes of a queen never before seen..
yet i saw 1000 times..
maybe only God hears my dream..
i'm awake now to finish her scene.
I know ur daughter named after me (amari)
and my son (chance) are playing up there..
staying up way past their bedtime
I'm runnin outta time. I'm runnin outta space.
Feel like I'm runnin round but i'm runnin in place.
We all in a race. I'm just another sprinter.
If there go the finish line, then who's the real winner?
it's valentine and i'm clementine alone in shreveport
my poem is my retort
pilgrimaging my way through the door
scratching the paint and sniffing the perfume just once more
the woman's hand on the other side of the knob
and if her fingers match the clasp of mine
anticipating the mutual throb-the pulse of potential passion
wondering if i should give her my all in small rations
holding the door like simon holding jesus
i lay crucified at the thought of giving my family tree a new limb
suspended in time
defended by my rhymes
i wanna get out of the bathroom line and skip to the front
i wanna move inside and skip to what i want.....
....to find permanent residency in a woman's mind and live as the victim to her crime
one she becomes guilty of committing everytime i'm home
they say "when in rome.."
i say .... when in poem....anything's possible.