Poetry
Is
Glass;
.        you can look into it and find your face,
.                                                                      smiling and grimacing both!

She sat in the waiting room
Scared as can be
She felt like a little girl
Even though she was thirty-three

Does she want to do this?
Does she really have a choice?
Then she heard this little voice

“Yes you have a choice”, said the voice in her head
But isn’t it too late now, once it’s over, the baby is dead

She ran from room, dark and dingy was the place
She ran and ran at a very fast pace

She couldn’t get away fast enough
She decided to have the baby
No matter how tough

you have eyes
you have a sight
but you didn't see

you have a mouth
you have a voice
but you didn't speak

you have ears
you could hear
but you didn't understand

you have a head
you have a brain
but you didn't think

you have a heart
you could feel
but you didn't let it beat
not even a little bit, not even at all




(samber)

We lived our entire lives caring for all things unimportant and at the bitter end we laughed as death tore us from the Earth.

We danced toward
each other's wounds

with gentle step
and touched inside

and now the bleeding
has resumed

and all this blood
is hard to hide.

Dear flower
They were wrong about you
You didn't bloom
You didn't need to
you're still beautiful
but they've ruined your image
With opportunities you were never  given
"Maybe next spring"
You hear those words over and over
There would be no other option
They've planted seeds in your mind
Of everything you've done wrong
But what about everything you've done right?
In your short life
You never reached their standards
But you've reached mine

I think they do it to toy with me,
They haven't said,
Anything about it,
And is all happy,
Its going by well,
Why say anything,
I'll just keep quiet,
Thank god!

There is something so dangerously evocative about photographs.
You would press your palm, tickle with your fingertips just to try to find the way the water would have felt.

Your lungs would gasp for a little more air, just to imagine the crispness of it in some other place. Places you promised yourself that you would go.

It's magic to say the least.

For whatever is in the borders of the photograph, they are still alive, somewhere.