Sometimes, writing poetry feels like...

Playing Charades using metaphors to describe your actions
Solving Jigsaw Puzzles to assemble your current thoughts
Using Ouija boards to converse with your own feelings

Sometimes, reading poetry feels like...

Playing Poker when you study the writer's intentions
Connecting the poet's thoughts as if you were playing Dots
Figuring out the writer's feelings like in Strings

                                                      ­         Anyways, its always *fun!

I lost it all a year ago:
not a lover, but
a friend,
one after another,
in domino effect.

And as this year
takes its final
curtain call,
I’ve been left
(almost nearly)
on my own
to greet
the year of
2017

As the loneliness creeps in

I feel it,
a pair of brown eyes,
with the perfect
music playing
and
the return of
feelings and the
spark, spark, spark
still there
after a year away

I'll be waiting
because he could be
the one I need
and ****
Father Time
for trying to take that
away from me

I have been wrong
about many things
and wronged by
many men

I hope this time
I might be right
for once in
my quarter
of a life

and my world
will change
in the best
of ways