Never was a girl so pretty
You should see her through my eyes

you are a qıestion
in my problem
right answer is to past

Poetry
is heaven sent
Not easy to write
something magnificent
It's pretty late
into the night
I close my eyes
to acquire sight
I want to write
my mind is still
I have to fight
the forlorn will
to end the night
and simply say
opportunity will knock
some other day
but I'm past the age
where opportunity knocks
I need to think
outside the box
and be myself
write something that rocks
or at least
something that doesn't ****
I need to break
this writer's block
I look at the ceiling
Look down at the clock
Stare into nothingness
as boredom mocks
the writer in me
Just my luck
This poem is about nothing
who gives a ****

I whittled away quietly at life
understanding my limits
and sometimes overstretching
but I always learned on that path
once on the right path I quickly moved on
and never looked back
Quietly people noticed me
which was daunting and exciting
so, I whittled some more
learning from my peers
I expanded their experiences
and my confidence grew
until I met love
which is worldly but solitary also
I whittled some more
but quickly realised
WE needed to whittle together
we did
understanding our needs
separate and whole
became a new challenge
but love conquers all
our whittling complete
our names now carved

Parenthood began
we whittled away quietly at life

he looked to shadow
a cold wind came from far one road
memories was a dream alike now
the end is very misty

stoped world when you go
we are sleeping on the cloud
who ask tomorrows
is real a dream perhaps

those rainy day, gloomy doom moods still hit me,
the adrenaline of chasing a high even if it’s no good still gets me,
I still crave those moments of breaking the barrier and pushing limits,
self sabotage for the fun of it, to be reckless just because we’re here on this planet once,
as far as we know

the Wild in me still has legs that want to run
to feel and taste freedom like I can have whatever I want,
these days she’s just in bed by 8:30 having wild dreams instead

I still remember the day
I said it
When I was kneeling
Touching your feet
I love you dear
Being away from you
Makes me fear
You are the first
And the last
You are the world
That's my only word
Tears rolling over my cheeks
Have made of me an artist
An artist who paints with his tears
Your portrait is not for sale
Cz I am your only male.
Without you I am nothing
Your presence is like wings
Making me fly so high.
You made me someone
When all people around
Saw me no one
But something.