Olbap as many people say,
Hold up my eyes in just a sec;
I tiptoed once into his world through socials,
Has tons of past combats carved in his hand.
He has gone to many coliseums and stages,
Chained and extracted into the darkness,
Combated hard to get away from that place
Exploiting his talent to overcome his pace.
Pails of learning in the repository room,
Inks spilled in an unclogged corridor,
Dispersed scratch papers in the bin,
Head bent in the longest of silence.
Leaning while on his guitar,
In front is a pen and a sheet of paper,
Mind is toiling deliberately for a scheme;
All this for the people who truly believed.
Every day is like a new beginning,
A new thing to make bars for the ocean out there,
For him, it is the best thing ever happen;
From ebony into a colorful space of a sunrise pane.
Olbap, full of insight like a jar,
Can write an ode and a melody in a snap,
Plays an instrument just for you,
A family-oriented man and a believer of the Lord.
He can weave ravishing masterpieces,
Lived with harmony in his soaring kisses
But half is on the green grasses where he lies,
Enjoying cloud nine with a marshmallow in his hand.
YOU ARE READING
For Pablo
PoetryTo the versatile man That rouses my somnolent passion again, To the outlandish guy That charmed my crafts and sentiments right now, To the skillful gentleman Who let me believe in my capacity, To the appealing man Who reminds me to always be the bet...
