I’m sorry.
My beautiful stanzas,
For not keeping in touch with you.
Somewhere along the way
I abandoned you.
And never wrote back.

I’m sorry.
My sweet verses
I have not forgotten you.
I have only forgotten the feelings in you.
And my heart can't bear to remember.

I’m sorry.
Meaningless Haikus.
I thought I could make some sense out of you.
But I will always be a few words away
from finishing you.

I’m sorry.
Untitled works.
You are amazing.
But I couldn’t give you what you deserved.
I left you raw.
Unpolished.
Unfinished.

I’m sorry.
That I scroll past you.
That I am to forgetful to finish you.
But to proud to erase you.

I’m sorry.
That while you remain
unfinished and unpublished.
I continue giving birth to
New works and
New ideas.

I will finish you one day.
Not today.
Not now.
But someday.
And until that day,

I’m so sorry.

Dont spend so much time
Pillowing the truth
That you cant tell
What you lay your head upon
When you finally
Sleep at night.

And I look into the depths of your eyes
In search of the truth,
But I can’t read them.
I can’t find anything that makes sense.

I do not know how you feel
Toward me,
Toward us.
So when I look into them,
Gaze into them a little too long,
And you ask me “what? What is it?”
I say “nothing”,
Because I can’t bring my lips to ask
What my eyes wish they could see
And that is: “How do you really feel about me?”

Bamboo groves sing the symphony of winds
in their crackling I hear my heart
on the red lone summer road.

The village woman passes with her cow
she has no time for poetry
yet her radiance fills me to beg life
more..

O Death be a while away
I've taken root on this land.

Far away, eons away from home  
A child is praying to the stars,
Underneath the canopy of milky way
Is round lone moon, beaming  in delight -
Echoed by the sea
As midnight strikes
And wishes are granted to those  whose  lives hang within a dream.

Here the colour  yellow floods back in each vein
The flowers bloom back to their glory
Whilst the earth breathes harmoniously
As silence becomes poetry.

How do I tell a lily
it is perfect where it lives
and to pluck it from its birthright
would wither what it gives.

How do I tell a mirror
its worth is what it shows
the truth it holds is infinite
its depth nobody knows

How do I tell a mountain
Where it might begin
A determined defiant monalith
its strength is deep within

How do I show a sunset
The colors we all see
giving happiness to the mighty sky
and the relentless iron sea

How do I tell a butterfly
its beauty is not its wings
but in the natural way it always has
brought life to many things