she reads her morning book
in the autumn sunlight
and within our conversation she smiles radiantly
gives glimpse of hearts truth
natural beauty rendered of the soul
is a masterpiece that no artist of word or image
in subtle colors fine lines can duplicate
her burnished hair spread by morning breeze
her delicate gaze softly suffuse
natural beauty so sweet to the eye
but it also the natural kindness she shows
to the odd souls around her
that illustrates clearly the best of humanity
she brings out the best in all of us
she makes me want to be a better man
she reads her morning book
resplendent in the autumn sunlight
a radiant woman of delicate beauty
she wants to learn, change and grow
she makes me want to be a better man

A sunlit narrow path cleaving  
       overgrown green hedge, both ways,
such exhilarating surprises, it too can offer,
        but would one expect, in the first place?

On my track, I stand arrested hold that flower,
                that made my heart jump, in my front,
felt being washed inside out
                 by a kind wave, transformed.

The flower, romancing the sun
         still is on it's branch,alive
didn't feel the temptation
        to pluck it like many times before.

Even the beauty's name is unknown to me,
     just another hibiscus,amidst her  cousins,
"I love the one next to her, the purple one"
    said a female voice, a wayfarer like me.

Standing by me, she adoringly looked at her favorite,
     I had no hesitation to accept it, like mine.
no ranking makes sense, each has
      own quicksilver tongue, if you 'd listen.

"Look at you! how pleased you look
    I love the folks, that adore flowers!"
she sounded like a skylark, hands of
  evening sun caressed her, we are kindred spirits.

"You have wide eyes like girls,
    eyes seeking beauty reflect it"
we held hands like childhood friends,
   long lost, looked at each other's eyes.

Isn't it the feeling one try to capture and define,
       when trying to say what poetry makes to happen?
it's there, a tangible feeling, if you know what it means,
   on our separate ways we went, gifting what to keep for ever.

We can be dreamers
We can be fearless
We can be lovers
We can be winners
We can be
who we want to be
what we want to be
Coz
We own our life...

Shed some light
On the deepest corners of the mind
So many thoughts still in darkness
Not being acknowledged
For fear of being misunderstood
Injustice meted out to them
Maybe those thoughts
Can transform the present
Give them a chance
And realize what lies within

The ability to write poetry is the ability to understand life
To know it's not always about being the best
That it's not always about who can do what
Poetry is emotion
It is the silent words that lurk in our minds
It is our unsaid weaknesses exploited to their full potential
Which then makes it our strengths
It is the bridge that connects us to the mortal world
It is the proof that we are human
That we can cry
That we can laugh
That we can have remorse...
To us poet it is so much then just words on a piece of paper
It is our heart and our pride
As poets we all have our reasons why we write
Because we all come from our different backgrounds
Some of us have lost sight of the light
Other bath in it
There are even some who sit upon the border because they can't make up their mind
But as poets we all have one thing in common
We write because we are not immortal
We write because poetry is our life
We write because  poetry is our hope
And if we didn't have it we'd all be in a different place
Most likely a place beyond darkness
Even if the reason we write is joy
What's the point of being happy if everyone else is not
So we write to share
That's what it means to be a poet