The wind caresses my cheeks
The flowers’ sweetness scent fills my lungs
My hand travels on the canvas
While guided by the soft brush.
What a beautiful sensation
Almost idyllic…

Sat in this marvelous garden
I let my imagination merge with the beauty around me
Escaping the cruel reality
The one which can no longer affect me.
I am free
Finally free from anguish and fear
Free from anything that caused me despair at the only thought

Free from the time, which has ceased going forward
Free from responsibilities, which have ceased suffocating me
Free from people, who have ceased having expectation of me
Free from the fright of the new day, which has ceased raising in surprise
And free from life, which has finally ceased causing me death.

Poetry is a verbal engagement, that tells a story in a rhythmic arrangement.

Poetry is a form of linguistical art,
that evokes your sentiments,
right from the start.

The beauty of a poem lies in its meanings,
and the true emotions that the poet is feeling.

Some poems when read may sound to you dull,
but to many others,
they do ring a bell.

Our tastes may differ,
from one to another,
but a good solid poem,
can bring us together.

For every poet has a different style,
the clever one,
will stand out from a mile.

Something terrible

can seem beautiful in art --


Necessity! (Lie?)

Art is a shadow

play of life, both cannot be --


understood deeply.

Expression is something
           We all must do
It brings worlds
Together

We do it in
                Many ways
It brings rain
                   Or good
                          Weather

But holding it in has
                It's good points
It keeps you from being
Labeled

And from being
             Part of the cause
Of balancing what is
Unequal

See me holding
                    Out my hand
My mouth is opened
Wide

There is no use in
                Playing it cool
When you have nothing
To hide

The joker laughs
                 At silent states
Hearts emptied by its
Lull

So
                Open up
                  Laugh
              In his face
Make
              Empty places
Full

  Give me
                   A smile
  Give me
                   A frown
Do it with
Guitar or
                  Paint

Show it with
   Speech
       As a mute clown
           As a rebel or as a
                  Saint !!!

From the void, a spark ignites,
A celestial breath, a pulse of wonder,
We emerge—fragile, ephemeral—
Inhaling galaxies, exhaling dreams,
Life molds us like clay,
Alchemy of joy and sorrow,
Each tear a drop of cosmic ink,
Writing stories on our souls.