Poetry

Why does it feel like the sky, is sending me a message? A hidden letter with every raindrop, drop by drop, it falls, impossible to

In the line of sight We watch the horizon, As it has no age No enemies No deceit And no confusion.   We see from

Beauty often time eludes  A manifest beauty it is not Plastered in turmoil and tragedy It reeks of frustration And bears a mark of fear

I hear the casket close, Shut tight for one last time For my face to be forgotten Or to remain within someone. I hear the

My father sleeps with an atlas, Each night a vacation To the Seattle opera Where melody becomes his religion Changing prayers of light To soft,

    I   In a novel she chose to read, she buried her face, While the night seemed to her longer than usual. The words

Trapped amidst towering pernicious trees, Skin soaked and bone burnt, Dribbling saliva down his chin, Hollowed and cursed, he waits. Trembling legs and clenched fist,

Walk, Road ahead, The leering hyenas waiting, To taste a piece of meat, They are thirsty, Rolling tongues, I can see. A nasty stare, At

I can always tell how long it will last or how much it will hurt, by how we hold our hands with obligation awkwardly not

Why do we live Sometimes I ask myself There’s too much stress No one is really their self From kids to milfs Busy climbing cliffs

Have you got no feelings,Have you got no heart? Don’t you understand how it is to be torn apart? From our own bodies and from

The fear of losing darkness is called light. The fear of losing a touch is called lust. The fear of losing a smile is called