Oh!




































I'm so blank!
Still, do you love me?

The sun is sharp in the sky
Leaves are talking as slowly
As if they are shy of
Making their love in the open
And butterflies are trying
To listen to their feelings
I'm waiting for her
I think i can't better place than this
To put the rose on her palm
And lock her lips with mine

Make a wall but keep a hole in it
If I cry my brother can hear me

Your eyes
                  Are deep valleys

And

I am drowned in them

Butterfly is a
Colourful canvas where poem
Finds its perfect sketch

The further away we may wander,
the closer to the heart our olden days become
the people who welcomed us
the places we danced
the music that still lingers in the air
with the love of a dream still shared...

The further away we may wander
we love each new adventure
never knowing where the road may lead
but we will always fondly look back
to the many homes our hearts have known
and wish upon wish to share our adventures
and roads with the people who celebrate our joy...

The further away we may wander,
we come to realize
places are meant to be left behind
but the smiles and loves we found there
will forever be part of who we are

If my heart pours out
If the rains turns to snow
Then my heart shall find rest
To the delight of the world

If a cry for blood burns like a fire
In the far land of kasheki, then the song of the heartland shall be sung by the hyena's

If the moon shodows it's beauty under the blue skies
A roar shall be heard in the sea deepth

To the voices of the earth
I just want to sing beneath the sun
beneath the clouds

Crystal  ball in pre night sky
Floating on orange waters
Bright light from departing sun
Golden shine in twilight
Waiting for the moon to rise
When sun says goodbye
Soft glow on Earth.


Shell ✨🐚

the worlds want me to fly higher,
        but you don't care about my
        wings so i cut it & put in a box.
        i had a dream,
        my imperfect dreams.
        i want to chase winds.
        but they say most birds who
        chase wind are fools,
        so i stop chasing.
        i had a dream,
        my imperfect dream.
        i want to vanish without a trace.
        crazy for a little bird like me
        who cut its wings.
        a long time ago
        i had a nest called
        home(house)?
        i don't know
        i don't care
        maybe someday
        if you care enough
        i will have a courage
        to find my wings again
        
        ©IGMS 2020

where do they go?
to mountains of synonyms
pushing lilac or purple
or puce or lavender
from valleys
of russet metaphors?
do verbs frollic?
nouns place themselves
before mirrors
asking themselves
"who am I?"
adjectives, do they
answer?
do the long words
most people don't
understand
do they go on
spending sprees
with their
million dollar
Lotto winnings?
do conjunctions
play matchmaker?
or hitch up
boxcars for
the more expressive
poetic engineers
to haul through
the long winds?

ghosts of past tenses
invade present
and mixed metaphors
haunt the nightmares
of learned readers.
gerunds run on
their little wheels
and stuff their cheeks
with prepositions.

where do words go
when they die?
they must hang as

DANGLING
PARTICIPLES.