Autumn sunrises
Color in the sky and trees
Is so wonderful.

...

Tea time is not how it used to be,—
full of gaiety and life.
Only now, it's full of woe,
and tears drip into my cup.
One day, perhaps soon,
all alone, tea time shall return again—
to being a cheerful occasion.
I go on thinking what tea time could have been like.

-M.H.-

My wrists will never have scars
for they will never be chained
I will always be able to fly
with my wings of fire
no one will put me out
I will not let them
for I am free
My soul is stubborn and my will is strong
I'm not one to be told what to do or how to act
I fight for love and I fight for truth
I will protect the weak
against those who are filled with hate
I will stand for a reason
and open eyes
and I will always be me
for I am free

Where else can a poet stay
a secret space in his poetry
The best get away
Hidden from this crude ugly world
In the name of creativity
Be comfortable with words of arts

A poet hides in a metaphor
Unveiled the untold...
Unapologetically figurative...
Being complacent in his secrecy...
In making each stands

The beauty of poetries....
The poet  bets his fortune
In each magical words
In every stanza.......
His breath...
His life...