To Be Kind

How can one, With the mood of salt Be the one, To keep a steady thought How can I Be bold as ice. When different times, I freeze my eyes. My tears in winter, The ridge between us. And yet I am, The wisest height. How can I, Whose lost with fright, Be the one,…

Wide Eyed

There are days when nothing moves me. Do I remain seen? Or am I simply forgotten in the moment, Of someone else’s revelry.

Man’s True Form

There is a rush of making, Wild unsettling, Like of roaming. Chance of choking. Hell in hoping. Someone breaking. And the sorrow of knowing, Man’s true form.

In Your Embrace

In your embrace, I am lovely. A speck of dust, Would hardly touch me. In your embrace, I am worthy. The crusted diamonds, They look to me. In your embrace, I am happy. For longer  moments, You laugh with me. In your embrace, I am held. As a part of something, I am blessed. In your…

Hercules

How I danced through the mist. Elbow high and thickening. My feet barely touched the ground. When I danced through the mist. The world was gleaming after this. Not dark, cold or raining in. Alive, bright and wildly seen. Against the troubles of rising mist. I found me feet and flew right in. A warrior burnt into…

MORNING

The crack of dawn greets me. A brilliant smile on its face. A rushing to smile back, Sends me to the rails. My arms spread wide, My chest expands, And I breathe the warming air of morning.  

My Poetry

Every single time I write poetry I get scared. It is one of life’s hardest things to do and I know I am exposing my self to ridicule. But it is like the colour of my veins are turning black with ink, willing me to expose myself. So every single time I write poetry I…

A Stretching Madness

The Stretching Madness is writing my story. Hollow my pages appear to it. My conquest in life to be more holy. A chapter on mockery it makes a hit. Yet I have only become more lonely. Madness stretches my mind too thin. And to the world such minds seem mighty. Tearing apart the heart within. Nobody wants…

The Travellers, Book 1

My main passion in life is being a writer. Maybe that is clear but I have yet to truly dedicate myself to this passion, or believe in myself. The only one book I have finished so far is a story called The Travellers. It has my main passion as a writer and that is fantasy…

Young Woman

Will I ever be free? Bold, Alive. To have the face of self desire. To have the walk of self devotion. And be like a mother of three, Her eyes alert at home, Her eyes alert, even in the world. Confident of where she is, And who’s is there. Confident of what she has, And how…

Our Stammering Hands

  It is on one of these days that I hate Shakespeare, For being so frank and for, His free abandon. I scribble on papers yet the joyous writ dwindles down to Common and short. How did he do it, this great hate of mine. How did he Turn word to whispers and whispers to…

The Hopeless Lover

In this age, We are constant looking, For one to fault. Let me ease the burden. I am at fault. I am the fault. I am the evil one. the tormenter, the purger, the rebuker of fine things. I am the desire of evil. I am the thirst for wickedness. I am hate upon the…