Pain stays permanent,
Permeating through time;
The pinch of loss,
Can never be sufficed.

Pain surges periodically,
Often high in tide,
Crashing on shores of sympathy;
Bund that gap,
With all your might,
These sensations erode,
Cutting in the shape of your soul;
Gorging away your sane.

Pain pangs often,
Reminding of the times gone,
But in that memory,
Find inspiration to go on!

Pain pacifies loss,
Whence you derive,
Your reasons to smile,
In memories so close...
Dormant relationships bloom,
An evergreen garden!

If we are puppets,
Then sleepiness
Is a dangerous
Puppeteer.

He creeps up on you
And hijacks your
Mind and body

Your eyes are closing
Your body feels heavy
Your head may drop off
Anytime

Your shoulders are drooping
Your feet are weary
Your back supports you
No more

Your head is swaying
Your body is aching
Oh how you wish you were
In bed

You can’t hear properly
You can’t speak properly
You don’t care
Anymore...
                                                                ­                 ...he whispers in your ear
And this is when
Sleepiness
Slips you onto
His puppet strings
And starts to sway
Your bearings

One, two
One, two
You plod on

Left, right
Left, right
Your vision starts to spin

You can’t hear properly
You can’t speak properly
You don’t care
Anymore...
                                                                ­                 ...he whispers in your ear
Continuing on
Your way
You know what you’re doing
But yet, don’t notice
Anything
Around you

Until that loud beep
Jolts you from your sleep
And brings you out of
The puppeteer's spell

The puppet strings
Are broken
And you are left
To face reality
The fact that you could've                                        should've
Died


You can’t hear properly
You can’t speak properly
You don’t care
Anymore...
                                                                ­                 ...he whispers in your ear

Let's go outside
Swifts are scything high
The last to cry the sun good night
Wings are beating then they glide

Let's walk round the meadow
As we like to do
We could be Summer gypsies you and I
Watch each day in pastel shades give way

All is kind, mild and soft
Daylight graced away
As we survey our sanctuary
Far from the maddening, saddening motorway

A fragile film of mist hangs above the meadow flowers
We wonder at the science of it
As nature's breath is blown aside
Like a magic trick

We could stay out here all night
Be Summer gypsies you and I
But we are tied
Signed up to this, bound by that
Anchored, rooted to the workaday

Come inside, for we must sleep
We need to sleep
Let the night its gentle solstice secrets keep

I miss you.
You were the only perfect thing I ever made.
I had been so excited.
You were ours.
You were mine.
I have never felt closer.
I had been so excited.
You had erased my fears.
Nothing matter but you.
I had been so excited.
I went through so much so I could have you,
And keep you safe.
I wanted to hold you.
I wanted to coddle you.
Even hearing you cry would've been better than this.
That's all I wanted.

If the plural form of a mouse is mice
and many many louse is called lice
why isn't the plural of house is hice?
and a nose be nice?
a kiss , kice?
English is a funny language isn't it?
Yet we learn to master it
The non natives speak and write
in their different accents and styles
Struggling to be understood
rather than be judged...
Still English is fun to learn
and Writing poetry is a great exercise
for English language learners.

because you sit
in the truth and
wonder if you've
been lying to your
-self all your red
-light life.