Sometimes, she wish to be pretty,

She want to have a skin
as smooth as silk
and as soft as cotton,

She want to have a face
as exquisite as an angel
and as tame as princess,

She want to have a voice
as sweet as coffee and
as melodious as sea,

But I guessed, She don't have
to change herself to be
called as beautiful,

Cause' she is an art and
She is already a beautiful abstract.

Love,

I always stare at the skies, wondering if there's somehow a chance that stars could meet the ground, then I remember you,

The distance that separates me from you always brought me to a desire of meeting you personally someday,

I'll make a cup of your favorite black coffee and we'll drink on a couple mug, we'll share the best smiles that will complete our day,

We'll visit every bookstores, old places, museums and we'll captured photographs of us that will be kept for years in our life's timeline,

And I'll rest in your arms while we're looking at the beautiful night sky, lay my head on your chest and sleep with the melody of your heartbeats as my lullaby,

If the universe allows us to meet, I won't miss every single moment to show you how much I love you.

Like those little stellar, I will fall for you once and I'll keep the memories we will make. Just wait for me, Love, cause' I'll be there,

Someday.....................in perfect time

Sometimes I am a star,
I am stucked in my position.
Sometimes I am a planet
Rotating and completing
an unending revolution.

Sometimes I am a meteor,
I tend to fall so hard and break.
Sometimes I am a comet,
I burn, I shine, and fade.

Sometimes I am an asteroid,
just a rock wandering the space.
Sometimes I am the moon,
believing that everything
is just a phase.

Sometimes I am just a blank space.
Dark. Empty. Lonely.

I never dreamed
of becoming a writer,
but I write.

I can't even say that
I am good at writing,
but still, I write.

I want to write
my heart out.
I want to exclaim my
thoughts, hoping that
someone out there
will understand me.

The love that you've been praying for,
will not be always a love in bloom,
it is a love you need to take care of,
to grow more fruits and flowers soon.

The love that you've been praying for,
is like figuring out how to open a locked room.
It will be as complicated like our minds,
and undergo some phases, like the moon.

The love that you've been praying for,
will not always feel like comfort zone.
Sometimes it will be like a battlefield,
and you'll just wish to be alone.

The love that you've been praying for,
is not perfect like you thought it was.
Your prayer is granted but you have to work;
to make the love that you prayed for, last.

She slept still on the cold bed
Her fragile frame was forever fixed
The sullen smile on her frown face
Crowned her earthly end
An emblem of victory gained in demise

The somberness of the ominous knell
Ushered in the undertaker for his task
To amass his masters latest loot
Fallen along the weary long way
A rose bruised before its bloom

The lamentations of the little lass
The groan of the grey gentleman
The solemn sympathy of a stranger
The clergy’s confession of her circumstances
All a label of a life led in liaison

The strongly sealed sepulcher
Bears the remains of her mortality
The epitaph on it concise as her life
A testament of her times to lingering legs
On rock engraved on hearts chronicled forever

The worms that merry on corpses
Shall soon party for their spoil
That skin so tender shall decay
From this world she carried eternal hope
And though she is dead she shall live.

I never liked the sun
I hated being in the spotlight.  

I always liked the moon
I loved being in the dark.

but, ever since you came
into my life.
I always want to get seen by you.
to be noticed by you.

I don't think I can be
where you can't see me.

Today I saw God dressed in tattered clothes with a bowl in his hand begging bread ,I could count his ribs from the hunger pangs.God was so skinny.

Today is saw God confined in a tiny cell for a crime he committed or perhaps he didn't commit ,He was dressed in black and white stripes, all alone and forsaken.

Today I saw God sick and writhing in pain in an hospital bed with none besides Him to comfort him.God had been sick many days.

Today I saw God lost in the big city ,with no friends or relatives to take him in ,he slept there in the open street battered with the cold under the starry heavens .He who created the heavens and earth had no where to sleep.

Today I saw God in the streets ,in the prison ,in the hospital while I was hurrying to go and meet Him in the grand cathedral ,today I saw God and I almost passed him by.

We lit a flame in an opaque  world
Not from wood but from a  candle
For woods sparkles bright
But produce ashes that cause blight
But candles melts to produces a stronger wax
Such is our flame burning to only reproduce a greater love
We lit a flame that first set our hearts on fire
And the fire spreads and then put our whole soul a blaze
Our flame is not shaken by violent winds
But it sways side by side dancing even to its violent  rhythms
Hand in hand ,heart in heart we lit a flame
A flame that does not burn down but builds up
A flame that that light our own souls and other souls too
For such is a candle it burns not for its own sake

What happens to the rose when it dies?
When it is chocked by its thorny foes
Does it green blood soak the earth to water more plants of love?
Do its crimson leaves fold their petals in pain?

What happens to the rose when it dies?
By the hands of a stray lover in search of a gift
Do the lovers drain all their tear wells?
Perhaps they merry as its mortal remains
Passes from his hand to her hand, from his heart to her heart

What happens to the rose when it dies?
Is it ever eulogized and its memorials held
Or is the emblem of love left in pile ash of bygone?
Is the rose ever buried and how does its epitaph read?

What happens to the rose when it dies?
Does it body like man’s decay leaving nothing but dry bones?
Is it folded and placed inside an old love book?
Who knows what happens to the rose when it dies?

and if you ask me what
do I love every morning,

Is it a coffee?
poetry?
short walks?
morning breeze?
or sunlight?

No my love
'cause it's you,
you're everything I
need to complete
my day,

I love you.

Mrs Solomon taught us in science of the sun ,moon , stars and reflection.She said just as the moon shines by reflecting light from the sun we too don't t become dim by making others shine .Afterwards she gave each of us blank paper and as we were waiting for instructions what do with it she said “the sky is a clean slate write your dreams on it ."

Next was the arts class and she gave us woods and beams and told us to make toy houses .And when we were done as she passed by she said “children do not make people your homes.People are rivers ever changing ,ever flowing, they will run down with everything you put inside them."

In the English class Mrs Solomon taught that, No ,is a complete statement.That sometimes when somebody says no they don't need to explain ,add or reduct .

In the religious studies class Liz your crush asked Mrs Solomon “What is your religion ?" upon which she answered “love " and then She interjected “I mean where do you worship ? " And Mrs Solomon replied “the world" and we all gave a holy grin .

And lastly came the maths class and she made the maths looks easy,she taught us;A strange subject is maths but it should not give you pats .Maths is full of calculation and you will have to know multiplication .There are sums of tricks and you will get a zero if they don't stick.Have the formula right and with you maths will be popular.

And before the evening bell rang she also took questions on how to dance in the rain ,how to smile in the storm and how to find beauty in the ugly.

There are so many beautiful things
But I chose you, my masterpiece.

Because why would I look for another star,
When you're already my moon.

Why would I find another universe,
If you're already my galaxy.

Why would I find another constellation,
If your name is the most eye-catching one.

Why would I find the biggest castle,
If you're in the paradise waiting for me.

Why would I leave,
If I'm home already.

Why would I write for someone as my subject,
When you're the heart of my poetry.

The worst way to die
is to be forgotten
while you're still alive.

If you can't tell me how you feel,
write it.

Write it in clean sheet,
or a brown paper bag,
you may write it in your email,
or on your tangible or digital note.
You may write it on my wall,
or on my arms, and palms.

Write everything you want to say.
Never hold it back.

I badly want to know you.
If you can't tell me, write it.

Writing poetry is like breathing.
Inhale ideas and emotions,
And exhale a master piece.

Let me be your own artist,

I'll change your
scars into stars,
the tears in your
eyes into butterflies
and your sufferings
into colorful
lanterns,
let me paint you
with the colors I
have, let me write
you using my
blood, my love,
You'll be the best
art and poetry
and our love story
would be the most
beautiful tale that
will be written
in the history.

Who will be there after
the world turned its back on you?

Your self.

So treat your self the way you
crave for others to treat you.