Poets come.

Poets go.

Poems remain—

left behind for someone

to read,

to admire,

and

to inspire

the next generation

to pick up the pen.

Clouds of pain

cover the wounds

of the heart.

Innocent tears fall

like gentle drops

of rain.

I miss you everyday

but

I miss myself more.

A pen and a paper
lying on the table.

The paper asked the pen,
“Why don’t you write?”

The pen replied,
“I’m not motivated.
I don’t know what to write.”

The paper said,
“Write a love letter.”

“Why?” asked the pen.

The paper replied,
“Because I want to be kissed.”

The pen couldn’t stop laughing
and fell off the table.

the wolf howls, no reply.
the clock ticks but never chimes.

who outlasts the tomb?

we walk the halls
to remember footsteps,
shout at the walls, why!

who do walls remember?

whispers and laughter,
the weight of every sigh.
the shadow that weeps
and the child who cries.

the wolf howls, no reply.
the clock ticks but never chimes.

what do windows see?

faces pressed close, lovers kissing.
the tears from a bleeding sky
when the rain
taps gently for all lovers.

walls echo laughter and longing,
and windows dream
of time gone.

the clock is ticking.

who outlasts the tomb?

the wolf howls....
each heartbeat a plea against the void.

When lovers die,

where does their love go?

Can anyone find it,

or is it lost forever?

Emotions buried deep
within the heart,
like molten magma.

When the heart
can’t hold anymore,
it erupts —
like a volcano.

Poetry starts flowing,
unstoppable,
like rivers of lava.

A thousand lights illuminated

in my heart

when I fell in love.

Every day felt like

a celebration

of life

till it all ended.

There exists an ocean

of words—

beautiful and meaningful.

Yet, sometimes

someone finds

just one word,

powerful enough

to turn a life

upside down.