Summer is coming up
Should I be excited?
Should I be happy?
I used to be
And maybe I should
But I'm not

Summers aren't
What they used
To be

As a child
Summers were something
That everyone
Really, everyone
Looked forward to

So Magical

The magic that used to be
Is gone
A train that left
Gone
Never coming back

Now
Everyone is in their rooms
No one goes outside
No one does sports
No one plays ball
No one plays tag
with their friends

The magic that used to be
Will it ever come back?

smile of an exuberant child,
drowning deep in the sea.
his loquacious nature backthen,
vanished like it never existed.
ove'thinkin is not so mild,
adulthood is the reason he riled.

She’s so beautiful
She’s a distinct petal out of a thousand roses
So bright and radiant, but feels out of touch
She feels dark, so out of love
One says she changed, but a million are blinded

She’s a philosopher
An artist with her words
One says sadness
While she writes a silent ocean
Her brush steals hearts

Summer will find us shortly
In the bristling but once-filled heaps of grass
through the wind, the howling of sorrow
May the sun find our chests and warm their holes
For the lovers in the past have torn us through

I hold their hand for them to stay
But they drift further away
Must be killed three times to hold
These poets' eyes are not foretold
Despite the words that pour from the soul
A field of roses will rot
If the gardener does not trim the grot

I can stop the beats,
but I don't even try.
It makes me euphoric,
ready for the world.

Every time I hear it,
I turn back the clock,
back to when I was six.

Back to when the world was unicorns and rainbows,
and I could take it all.
I still can.
But, this everlasting rhythm,
makes it last forever.

Always autumn in me
The plunge to the ground
The pull of the wind
I approach the end as autumn does
Slowly,
                    
                     Lingering in cold mornings

Never winter in me
Never snow or ice
Always only the movement towards
If it is autumn always
There may not be any spring
One cannot be reborn
                     In such a chill as this
There may never be summer
                     In such a wind as this
Autumn in my soul
This movement unto shall be enough for me
                     This movement unto shall be enough for me

I drown myself in tasks,
pour coffee five times a day,
so even in those brief seconds,
my hands are not idle, my mind not still.

I raise the music to a scream,
to drown the voice that gnaws,
the voice that sounds like you.

I write and write and write,
so I do not reach for you,
so my fingers find ink instead of absence.

I do the things I do not wish to do,
fill the silence with motion,
but still
you slip into my sleep,
a ghost pressing its weight upon my chest.

I love sun-drenched afternoons when the world seems softer,

when people seem to be going about their day as usual,
but they seem more at peace.

when I can hear every sound around me,
but my mind feels silent.

when I'm walking towards my destination,
but I feel like I'm walking aimlessly in solace.

something so nostalgic, something so special, wish I could relish in this reverie forever.

In the compile of words
We have lost our favourite poems
It's hard to remember
Probably we have forgotten
You might find the same poem
After a decade
In the dust of old papers
I know you'll remove all the dust
To read your favourite poem one more time
If you read it carefully you haven't forgotten your poem
It got lost in the compile of new pages.
What if we get the chance to read again

Today, September 27th, will have been my father’s 80th birthday. Eighteen years have passed since his departure, yet his memory remains as vibrant as ever. I recall with fondness the countless lessons he imparted, the guidance he offered so effortlessly, and the unwavering integrity he instilled within me.

Though he is no longer physically present, I feel his presence in the values he left behind. His love for his grandchildren was boundless, and they, like me, miss him deeply. As they prepare to become parents themselves, I can’t help but wonder how he would have guided them through this new chapter.

As I approach the age my father was when he passed, I find myself grappling with my mortality. The uncertainty of the future can be overwhelming, and sometimes, it feels like I’m merely going through the motions. Yet, amid this introspection, I find solace in the memories of my father. Every aspect of my life seems to echo his influence, reminding me of the man he was and the legacy he left behind.

Perhaps it is fitting that his memory should be so intertwined with my journey. His love, wisdom, and unwavering spirit continue to guide me, even as I navigate the uncharted waters of my own life. And as I look ahead, I find comfort in the knowledge that his legacy will live on through me and through the generations to come.