If there comes a time
that you might lose me
Find me in my poetry

Remember when you first fell in love? What colors did you see? An explosion of ecstasy in the form of chromotherapy?❤️

Truly gifted poets
Straddle their crafts early on
Some even in adolescence
They have been cursed or blessed
To be kings and queens of utterance.
I never dreamed of becoming a poet
It was furthest from my mind
Then in a sudden twist of eardrum
It happened in my Mid-thirties.

Out of the recesses of Time
Came the lure and a hook
Shining in enchanted brook
And before i knew it
My heart was snatched
And my movements flustered
When i bit on ambrosiac bait
Drenched in Muse's wine
Drugged and drunk
On sounds and images
I struggled in a pool of words
To assemble what held me infused
To make sense of orphaned views
Swaying between shade and light
Like dancers deprived of audience.

My poetic rapture began
In frenetic rain of ink
preposterous in direction
A poetaster rapt on vapid rhymes
With sounds of poetic crimes
But my craft developed
In piecemeal fashion
And rendered my pen composed.

A minnow of long ago
Has grown into a mackerel
And longs to become a whale
In the ocean Ars Poetica
Though it seems a pipe dream.

Your words speak to me,
They let me know
There is somebody else like me.
Your words are art to my eyes.
Floating figures from an alternate reality.
Touching my thoughts.
Whispering in my dreams.

Counting Days
-Miegrat Sammri


Lonely me, thence lonely world,
No fun, no work does it hold,
Sitting by the window and glancing at the bay,
I’m counting grains and counting days…

Slowly does it pass with no hobbies and no aim,
Life ain’t just a game, matter not what others say,
Looking at the calendar with nothing to do,
Just counting years and counting days…

Alone on the strand, a pioneer so gay,
Not caring what others hafta say,
Lying on the ground and watching the sky,
I’m counting stars and counting days…


A private island, a private yacht,
And a private company of myself,
By the ocean, staring at the watch,
I’m counting hours and counting days…

So messy has life become,
So unruly has dreams become,
Help myself, I may,
But by counting thoughts and counting days…?

Loads of work, but none to worry,
Wasted my leisure, felt no sorry.
No idea what my future holds,
But I am sure,
It’ll, as usual, pass by
Just counting rays and counting days…