I place my poems in the middle,
                                                         ­                              I place my poems to the side.

I play my words
                                like a fiddle knowing
                                                         ­             our ideas can't coincide.

This thought has always haunted me.

People you meet once
and never again in your life.

You have a static picture in your mind
of their face
the small conversation
their little story they tell you
the place you met them
in a bus, a shop, on the road
interactions not long
but meaningfully small
yet leaving a memory in you.

I think of all those people
I stopped by to ask for time
seek direction of my destination
or asking where I might find
food or a resting place
in an unfamiliar area.

Once and just once you meet them.

On a summer trip, I was looking for icecream
in a strange place off the highway
walked ten minutes to find a shop
where for that brief encounter
the seller made me feel like
he had known me for long
shared the history of that area
the migration and culture of the residents
before helping me with the right icecream.

Sometimes I wonder
if they would have enriched my life
were they part of my association.

Not scholars, not rich, but simple men
who bring you down to earth
and carve a space in your mindscape.

Sadly you meet them once in your life.

I feel it's so designed.

Oh, sacred bean, my morning might,
you drag me back to conscious light.
With every sip, my soul ascends;
until you’re gone, and death impends.

You’re bitter, bold, a little rude,
but I forgive your attitude.
For when you touch my lips just right,
I almost feel like I’ve slept at night.

O liquid joy, my saving grace,
I’d swim in you, face-first, with grace.
A hug in a mug, a slap to my brain,
the reason I function; however in vain.

No prince, no knight, no grand romance,
has held me in their warm embrace,
the way you do, my dark delight;
through every morn and sleepless night.

So here’s my vow, my sworn decree,
I'll love you more than you love me.
For if one day you disappear...
Well. Let's not speak of such despair.

When the weight is heavy, and your knees give way,
When the night feels endless, swallowing the day,
When the echoes of sorrow drown out your fight,
And hope is a whisper, fading from sight;

Take one breath, then take one more,
Step through the wreckage, past the closed door.
You are not broken; just bending, not gone,
Your heart still beats, and the world moves on.

The storm may rage, the waters may rise,
But strength is born in tear-stained eyes.
You have stumbled, but you are not done,
The dawn still calls; you are the sun.

Rise again, though the climb is steep,
Rise again, though the scars run deep.
You are more than the pain that tried to consume,
You are the bloom that will break through the gloom.

So stand, even if trembling, walk if you must,
Crawl if you falter, but in yourself, trust.
For the past is behind you, the future unknown,
But today, my dear, you are not alone.

It always starts this way...
you fold a paper airplane
throw it up...watch it fly...swoop
only to crash
"Its like love" he said
turning over in bed
the next time he spoke
he asked for money

"Its like love" I thought...as 
I walked out the door
thinking...nothing is ever like love...
what good is it to compare
what you want....and what is
"nog eentje" I say...and sip beer quickly
it's always so dark over here

one foot then the other...
keep...counting as you...make your...way
across tracks and cobbles
through crowds and rain
one drink too many.....but always too few
a separate issue now
no longer love in question
just lust and hunger for release

"are you alone now" he said
"no...I'm with you"
He reaches for my hand...
I'm reaching for my drink...
we collide and....glass smashes 
to the floor....bleeds red wine

a calm feeling now....after kissing and ***
the smell soothes...yet...creates confusion
an odour of such delight makes one feel...
feel so filthy...."its a necessary evil" he said
and as i close the last shirt button
I say "believe me...it has nothing to do with heaven"

Purple crocuses 
In the light,
Striking to the eyes .
The first to bloom ,
Petals of hope ,
Rebirth ,
Sweet nature.

The sky leans heavy tonight,
a slate of stars refusing to sleep.
I pace waves in my mind—
thoughts churning like tides,
never retreating enough
to leave the shore bare
with quiet footsteps in the sand.

The moon drags its thin light
across the restless shoulders of night,
casting shadows that won’t settle.
And I think, maybe
some things aren’t meant to stop—
a river, a heart, or this relentless need
I have to keep moving.

I watch withered leaves fall—
deliberate, almost kind.
Each one drops gently
onto the waiting ground.
I think they’ve practiced this,
as each one helps me rehearse,
a goodbye I must say,
to those that need to hear this—
I can't last forever even if I try.

The wind softly urges me—
not to worry and trust the landing.
And when I do go—let them hear
the leaves rustling, not the cry
of a breaking tree.