Over 21 years
And a dozen places
Have I found one
I can call my home?
Home.
Where the day starts
With waking up to sloppy kisses
And barks and whimpers
Home.
Where the creak of the swing
And the rustle of trees
Create magic everyday
Home.
With the constant squabbles
Yet there is no place else
I feel I could belong
Over 21 years
And a dozen places
Have I found one
I can call my home?
Not one.
But a dozen.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Ashes and smoke devour the world
As the ground turns a crimson red
Underneath the piles
Of bodies that lay curled
On their death bed
As the world does break
Through massacres and wiles
No tears shed at its wake
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
In the dark, restricted corner of the library
Find yourself ‘Moste Potente Potions’
Everything you need you will find in there
The most potent potions
Three measures of fluxweed
Two bundles of knotgrass
Stir thrice, clockwise
Wave your wand
Now let it brew
Not yet, it’s far from over
Proceed with four leeches
Two measures of crushed lacewings
Thirty seconds on low heat
Wave your wand
Now let it brew
Three measures of boomslang skin
One crushed bicorn horn
Twenty seconds on high heat
Wave your wand
Now let it brew
One scoop of lacewings
Stir thrice, anti-clockwise
The dark, muddy potion
Bubbling up, slowly
And now, the final ingredient
A piece of the person
You wish to become
Now notice as it takes the color
And taste of his essence
Wave your wand
Now let it brew
For a month, no less
You have what you need
Now drink up lads!
In one hour, however
You will transform back
Make sure the job is done
And in some other’s skin
And should the need arise
You’ll know what to do
In the dark, restricted corner of the library
Find yourself ‘Moste Potente Potions’
Everything you need you will find in there
The most potent potions
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
I wanted
To write about you
To paint your picture
With my words
To draw your
Almond eyes
To capture the wit
And life in them
To caress your face
Taking you in
With each stroke
To trace your lips
And the love they hold
To refine the subtleties
Of the many struggles
Your face bears testimony to
But you,
Oh you, are the reason
That I'm a poet
Without words
You were to be my masterpiece
My art, without color
For all the words in the world
Can't describe your essence
My love.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
Isn’t it amusing
How a blank page
Holds endless stories
Within its being
The unending possibilities
Widows and orphans
Prose and poetry
Hidden underneath
A blanket of colors
Waiting till someone
Draws one out
And gives it life
As the rest venture
Into new homes
Waiting beneath the surface
To be born
So they can breathe life
Into another being
All the blank pages
With untold words
Dancing beneath the horizon
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
Silences
Haunting my soul
Dancing around
In the dead of the night
Fierce, inviting
Silences
Wrapping me up
Warm against me
Soothing at first
Then burning my heart
Silences
Edging upwards
Etching my skin
With things undone
And words unspoken
In trying to break free
I became more entangled
Craving for words
In these dead
Silences
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC
I was born
When my heart broke
Into ten thousand
Irreparable pieces
I drew strength
From the darkness
When a little light
Seemed unimaginable
As fear clawed it's way in
My words spun around
Defining the blackness
I couldn't even see
When pain ripped me open
I spilled out feelings
I didn't know I had
Beautiful, sad
Till they became
My reason to breathe
A poet was thus born
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
I'm a writer
I paint pictures
With my words
I draw the sun
The starry nights
The howling winds
And the calm seas
I'm a writer
I can make you see
Snowfall in July
Rainbows on a cloudy night
I can make trees bow
At the wind's command
I can make a leaf float
Till it reaches
Just where I want it
And people
Mere puppets
But the beauty
In my paintings
Is not the words
I chose to use
Or the hue
Of emotions
Smeared across
My canvas
The true worth
Lies in your eyes
What you perceive
And chose to believe
The words that caught
At the strings of your heart
The world that you created
Using my words
I'm merely the hand
Of an artist, struggling
But you
You are the eyes
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
There are things
You didn't want me to do
Things you said
Would break me
But how could I stop
This aching heart
From craving
So I did them anyhow
And I'm not ashamed
I have no remorse
If I made mistakes
They're mine
For I'm not your shadow
Hiding behind you
Recoiling from the light
That you let through
For I'm not your puppet
You don't hold my strings
To bend me the way you want
Turning pages in my life
As you would have
For I'm not your reflection
Showing you only
That what you wish to see
What you couldn't be in me
For I'm not your clay
Moulded at your hands
Shaped into your dreams
Trimmed to remove
The imperfections that define me
For I'm not you
In all your goodness
However hard you try
I'm not you
For I am me
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
*Thunder
Rain
Alone
At home
Thoughts
Of death
Knife
Unsteady
No more
Of this
Empty world
Knife
On wrist
Knock
On the door
A voice
No. Focus.
Tears
Knock
'Open up'
Knife
Now steady
Ready
Slit
Tears
Smile
Blur
Collapse
Blood
Knock
Blur
Glass shatters
A voice
'No!'
Darkness
Engulfing
Too late*
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC