A blink of words
That can't be said
Or even be written
She is her own poem of thousand words


She is fierce and gentle
All at once
She's a song
An unending, Beautiful song.  


She is a sparkle
She is a shine
She is the only thing
That i want to call mine

She is my everyday
And my every night
She is every morning
And my every twilight


She is all i know
She is all i see
She is a sweet melody
She is my unmatching rhythm


She is the firefly dancing in the moonlight

"You are beautiful", says the mirror.
My mind sneers, "Here's another liar."

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever love someone the same as they love me.
Will it always be too much or not enough or somewhere in between?
I'm not sure why I have it wrong time and time again.
But I always end up feeling lonely or want them more as just a friend.
Will someone ever love me like I love them?
Will we ever walk down the same path and not have to pretend?
I'm not sure why I have these vices but my grandpa I think had them too. I found poems he wrote on a typewriter, back in '62.
They weren't about love but they rhymed in a way that showed he hurt. If I could only know the memories that lay in his body behind his tobacco smoke-infused shirt.

I don’t want to live with regrets
They’ll bury me before I’m dead
But sure, I’ll take some secrets
Where I’ll be finally laid to rest

Rip, rip, rip!
Red glazed paper
Cling, cling, cling!
The falling sugar
Whirr, whirr, whirr!
Grinding of the beans
Stir, stir, stir!
Till the surface gleams
Drip, drip, drip!
Dripping black ocean
Sip, sip, sip!
The bitter decoction

Sweetheart
Ain't it sweet enough
To believe there's someone we're made for
But it's never enough sugar
in that sachet
Why does love last as long as it's paid for?

Black as night
Light as day
Midnight to love
Hope to pray

What is this world?
A child might ask
For living is hard;
A mighty task.

Eyes shining with hope
The child waits
For a mother can’t tell
What she hates

She just hugs
And pats his head
As his eyes close
And he lay still on the bed.

Her tears lay
By his side
For he reached
Where the shadows hide.

After writing my first limerick,
my mind went on this metrical kick.
The words I'd compile
all had the same style
and my poetry sounded quite sick.

I'd start with paper and pen
to write to my closest of kin.
I'd try to think
what to write with the ink,
but found I'd done it again.

It seems the harder I tried
to set this bad habit aside,
the more I'd conceive
with a poetic weave,
rhyming which wouldn't subside.

Many times I would complain,
this poetry form is insane -
for every rhyme
keeps the same time,
becoming ingrained on the brain.

Years I've been in this state,
with rhymes to relay and relate.
Repeating these verses
and uttering curses..
It makes me so very irate..

So I'll offer poetic advice,
don't let this writing entice..
Don't step in a trap
full of limerick crap,
just let a nice sonnet suffice.

Ignore his ****
See how quick
he finds another chick
for a better lick
******* *****
thinks he’s slick

Call me a *****
‘coz I’m about to switch
Better, call me a witch
‘coz I’m about to bewitch
Fin, Harry or Mitch
No matter which
I have this itch
I gotta ditch

I try to escape from the rhymes
But they find me between the lines
Words jump out from conversations
My trigger to articulated aspirations
I promise them a new sentence
Some agree with reluctance
While you are building castles
I'm writing down time capsules

As easily as the sun sets every day
I wish I could break away
From you who are holding me prisoner
From you who promised me happy-ever-after
The gold has finally faded
and I now feel jaded  
I believed by staying I was strong
but now I know I’m so wrong
I need that first step
that’s the only way I’m going up
By leaving you behind
Banish you from my mind
Remove you from my heart
A new life I’ll start