I looked out through my arched window,Only one thing around there still had blooms on,Among the silver leaves, delicate and graceful snowdropsWhich transformed a classic white assortment ; into glamorous wintry display. Fresh gardenia, swaying camellia and heavenly lavender,Caught my memory and me rememberDrowsy and busy November is off; and I’ve treaded into the days…
The Skin I’m In
I used to wonderhow I would growand yet still fit in the skin I’m in.If we would grow together,me and my skin.Well, we seemed to have donequite wellfor a long time. I used to wonderhow you would grow,and if you would still fit the skin you are in.And if we would grow togetherand stay intact in…
Prison
How often do I forget that I’m in prison,Bound and in chains,By a devouring monster,That eats up anything good it sees. The monster hates change,The monster doesn’t reason.All the monster wants is what it visions. How often do I forget that I’m in prison,That I’m not supposed to feel,Nor have any emotions, neither a say.Else,…
Finders Keepers.
Within life’s chaos and busy daily routine I found youTrying to teach me some of the best lessons of life; Within the first, weird and funny ice-breaker conversation I found youOpening up a little by little, even in disagreements you weren’t really that strife; Within daily giggles and deep defined conversations I found youGetting closer…
Midnight Wonder
Head in the clouds, Soul on the brink Of salvation and/or annihilation At any/every moment. The signs in the sky Appear to point out our future in space. The signs in my mind Seek to find the path home to source. But the signs on the street Are marketed for entirely different ends, Singing their…
Quietude
To the ones who stay silent in air filled with words, I can hear you Your lips sealed but mind wide awake, I know what you’re thinking How you play with your hair to avoid being noticed, I get you To be there but not there is a task, I know, how you do When…
The Poetry.
The poetry is the deep philosophy of the cry and laugh. It is the unseen language which touches our soul bitterly and joyful. The poetry is the skin of sensibility and the incredible race among the clouds. It is the pouring of the blue sky in our opening hearts. The poetry is the art of the mess …
The dreadful detachment
My conscience was Collapsed, shattered, And deranged. Every passing day I had to question my sanity, And regain my clarity. Our life revolved around Us. And now, What are the promises for? “Friends Forever” Was it just a phrase? I try and erase the memories from my mind but I’m unable to succumb my heart…
Lunar-tic.
I’d spit venom as words Hate till it hurts. Turn our lives in to One twisted curse. I’m indecisive. Scattered. Choices never mattered. I’m stagnant. Don’t try fixing the shattered. I’m inhumanely cold. I rage uncontrolled. Some stories Should just never be told. And yet my galaxy Spins around a memory. The paradox within me…
A language yet to be written.
There are parts of you that cannot be held by poems or paintings or songs, but I hold them in my desolated heart. I am that naïve damsel with sad songs in her fingerprints and smoky sunset in her eyes. It’s you who run through the lyrics of those honeyed words and amorous love songs….