I’d craft you a poem, yet words may fall short,
To capture the joy, the laughter, the rapport.
The very essence of what sets you apart,
The moment we met, the joy in my heart.

Instead, gaze upon the night's starlit design,
Connect the dots, the constellations align.
A grand spectacle, yet a void unseen,
A tapestry incomplete, until you intervened.

Stand amidst the cosmos, in lunar glow,
The missing piece, the truth starts to show.
By now, you must surely know,
How your presence completes this poem I bestow.

Being a hero,

still thoroughly despised --


for some bad manners.

I'd love to see your imperfections because that's what makes you human and perfect.

But God, please take away my sight and let me feel his features, and let me imagine how he looks like with my touch. Let me understand his body and face like no other.

But God, please also take my privilege to feel and let me hear his guiding voice, whether he chooses to deceives me or not. Let me listen to the voice that soothes my heart. Allow me to understand the tones of his voice and listen to how lovely and kind-souled he is.

But if one day, God, if I happened to lose control of my body and reality, then I understand that I can no longer stay on the same world as him and pray the best. Because this heart wants nothing but him, nothing but his happiness and smile. As his smile and laughter will always linger on my mind.

So please God, if I'm not the right one for him. If I'm not good enough for him, please let him live his life to the fullest.

But for now, please let me stay with him in his light until our time is done.

A light came into the world,
Wearing a long dress,
The nicest smile,
Carrying the greatest heart of gold.

That light had a son:
Our best friend, father and Grandad,
The most wonderful other half
To an already lovely woman.

Together they had a family,
Joining heritages,
Crossing seas,
Found themselves in Leeds.

But that was only the beginning of the journey:
Between the weekend trips with their good friends,
The cruises where they laughed and danced,
Wearing his best bow tie;

To the sofa days,
Keeping up with the Gaelic.
A man with many loves,
And Ireland remained one.

I remember when Grandad would visit home,
And he would share stories of their travels.
He was so kind-hearted, and so accepting.
His mother's light shone on him.

Years pass us too quickly.
Thank you for being a great father to my father and his siblings, and the wives and husband they love too.
Thank you for giving Granny such a wonderful journey in this life. May her voice still linger in your ears.
And thank you for being our Grandad. Our days with you will never be forgotten.

***

I'd paint you in dreamscapes—
visions of rolling hills
and fields of autumn leaves,
your form draped in grass
and sunset dapple—
porcelain, delicate beauty,
a work of art, the way I see you

Why, you must be a man made of marble—
What else could have sculpted a face so beautiful
And a form so lithe, yet untouchable?

I wouldn't simply flick the brush
in regards of painting you;
You're more than that to me.

I'd stare up high looking at the real ones
and use them as reference,
to at least be able to paint you in the same league...

You've captivated me
unlike any other nebula I've seen.
To the point, that urging myself to look away
and move on comes to the scene—

Because my mum told me
to never look at the sun directly.
Funny, how I never listen
knowing I got blinded by you.

However,
I also think of you as the moon.
Cold and very far away,
Unable to reach you.
I'm no astronaut,
But if I could—I would.

You've got me wishing for you,
Like lovers longing for each other.
But you are a star,
and I am but a man.

I'm nowhere near
the level of other women,
I'm mediocre at best.

But, I would have painted you better
than any other woman could.

Wandering through a field of flowers,
Petals sway with each gentle breeze,
Only to stumble and embrace the rich soil,
A purple rose to my face, respectfully bowing to it.

Its vibrant purple hue set it apart from the rest,
I was entranced by the way it stood out,
So I knelt down and offered it to dance,
Carefully plucking it from the ground.

The purple rose swayed like a graceful dancer,
As if it were the one controlling the wind's rhythm,
I met an extraordinary partner in this floral waltz,
I lift it above my head, and it twinkled with delight.

What if I let the wind carry you to the sky?
I released the rose, and it vanished from sight,
As darkness enveloped the deep blue sky above,
Only to reveal the moon, with a twinkling star beside it.

Front row seats to admire its beauty,
A hidden gem, beneath all this earthly rubble,
Who knew you'd ascend so high,
Flamboyant and shining ever so bright.

The soil is not where you truly belong,
For it has hindered your growth for so
long,
To stand out, high above, with that radiant glow,
Is what you've always deserved to know.

Aircraft blazin' fuel
Aboon, "done-with's" grave floods sight,
A calm midnight rain,








The mind racing. Why

Must the nurtured be blind eye
Wilie McTell? Pain.

The mind racing, on
A smile,
Lonesome star in opaque
Darkness, Freedom

From label. Freedom
From responsibility.
Freedom from action,
                                      Is this noble,
                         Or a jester's play in chess?

Oh, must I turn my fist to face aloft,
Straighten my clenched fingers, present you
Burning embers of admiration, that for so long
Have been stitched into my palm,
Gifted from a passive voyager afar,
Weary, to announce affection,
For a grasp can only
                         Last as long as
                                              Two hands want to clasp.

                                                         ­                      What is on your mind?







                                                Airc­raft blazin' fuel
                                                Aboon, "done-with's" grave floods sight,
                                                A calm midnight rain.

                                               A chance to breathe.

                                               Be my Sheppard.
                                               Lead
                                               Me to pastures of serenity
                                               To graze in, until my eternal slumber.
                         That's where I want to be.

You can describe
The awe inducing beauty
Of a sun kissed morn
Or of the towering, starry night sky
And never realize it's value