I appear compassionate and speak with poetry.
My heart wants romance, but often needs empathy.
I feel things vividly, and when I share that, I can give and receive love.
I know the dew drops live on wild flowers
With moving wind and calming breeze to temper
Knowing how beauty extinguished with noon
Come the cold end of summer, ardent and true
Yet, like a sorrowed raindrop that descends
Without swoop and decline, a bird can't ascend
Song after tune followed by chirp, music resumes
Until welkin and hell merge, as dust consumes
For I know that pure love lasts an eternity
Whenever the roses lose color quickly
Giving an innocent bud, beauty
Though, I know spring awaits the many
Placing that remnant of our affection gently
It is with great sadness, petals fall patiently
Beneath a conscious will to live is nothing but escape
Today I learned to be grateful for all the things I have in my life. I learn this lesson of gratitude because one must exalt themselves in artistic and spiritual expression. I have left past behind meaningfully looking to the future.
the unworthy Angels
as they fall-
Is a job
5 years later I find myself alongside, once more
the comfort that I never wanted to leave.
The compassion I mistook being no longer the false
virtue I came to age with,
And everyone else; right where they've always been.
No longer was I
too young to see.
I demolished their myth
Before unfolding my myth
I am king of lords
In my own right
Lords of empathy, compassion, love
Under my rule
Do you need someone?
On this World Mental Health Day
Does someone need you?
Pay attention to what is said,
It’s not always in the word.
Anyone can listen,
But not everyone is heard.
They both let go and take control
falling, they get caught
in each others spaces
so that, compassionately,
they can look one another in the eyes
as they dance like a seed on the breeze.
part of a series exploring intimacy in our world.
Aside the tiers of which she tolls in tears.
Holds her upon her hair.
Crumbled beneath her ***.
With grief out of disconcord.
As she refused to take charge.
But he continued to pounce on.
The pain, the grief, the blame, all she gets on.
His thrusting showed a haste.
And a threatened, horror taste.
Force ******, isn't that a waste?
Like the itching troubled paste.
Justice ceased to favour
Her cries, but insult does.
As quick as she's now a *****
A *****! Such inhumane
Justice out-insult in; our new normal.
Not again will she cry in vain.
Not again will grief runs through her veins.
Not again will she endures the pain.
Because she now stands to be the main.
And ****, a disheartened effort with no gain.
This poem seeks to end the menace of immorality shown towards incidence of ****. It also reveals the conditions of ****** and how much of displeasure they got in the act.
It as well pointed out how justice as failed victims of **** in our society and how the trial to justice merit not victims of ****.
The last verse pointed out taking responsibility attached to **** and which they will no longer cry in silence. Every will they be subjected to grief, pain and endurance without gain.
The wind pulls the trees
by their hair, whooshing all time –
“I'm really sorry!”
Collection "Blown sand"