There are poems inside of me, that the paper can’t handle,
Words that roar from within usually causing a scandal.
Pages and pages pour out from within,
Still losing when I saw myself to win.

Emotions rush through my eyes and lips,
Like a stormy sunset rising from the doomed ships.
On a planet in a new constellation,
I began to write in my own celebration,
Lost in the galaxies within my soul,
I vaguely slipped away from control.

My mind is eating away at the emotions surrounded,
Hers, his, yours and theirs all of them bounded.
Some borrowed, some enforced,
many thrown at me without remorse,
I prayed they would go away in due course.

I push and push away. I don’t know what will stay,
I don’t know what will sigh a relief, it’s time I choose my belief.
With blood splattered across the walls,the beauty of my mind is a terrible place to live in,
To this fragile side of me, I give in.

Most of my love poems are about people who never stayed,
you know the ones I begged for and prayed.
You think this would make me say something beautiful about love that lasts,
The people only become a leaf attached to you in your past.

When the infection comes, the calls come ringing,
‘Are you ok? What were you thinking?’
Finally a sickness that a doctor can detect,
The ones the sharp blades of tongues cause are of neglect.

I want to raise monuments of intellect,
To the nebulosity of poetry I pay my due respect.
For the ocean of words I carry inside of me must survive,
My fondness I, or you your power keep alive.

The quaintness of a bar in the heart of my city breathes an air of charming, old-fashioned walls, it echoes of the days and night I sat there drinking my gin and tonic pouring my words onto pieces of paper or into hearts.. it reminds me that modern life is convenient but the quaintness of certain walls never die!

You are Persephone coaxing riverbeds of lush green to flourish from each man’s desolate home
And as romantic as this seems;
if something isn’t your burden to carry,
You have no obligation to.

You may be tempted to pick up other people’s trash to spin them into gold,
but save some of that compassion for a rainy day.
You’ve got enough of your own baggage to deal with.
Heal yourself before you heal others.

To turn fifty shades of pink and red was too mainstream, so the skies turned blue with a single glance from you. Breathing a heavy sigh, she prayed for it all to be thine.

In between slurred words and short pauses, I tried to explain myself. Gravitating to telling the same story all over again.

A tale of how I said those words in vain, only to never have them last me pain. I prayed every time to be soaked by the city lights, to let me drench by the drizzling skies.

Every street light has a story of someone fuelled by never ending fury. Let me add one more tale to be written about a princess who failed, the one who bowed down and never prevailed.

'Her words are heard, not echoing wild in the void, her tale waiting patiently by the sidelines, yet to be told.'

My words fell upon deaf ears, silently understood by someone after years. The tear drops had disappeared from my crow's feet, I longed for the one who could make my heart take fleet.

'Long together with me, for the path seems long. Find solace in knowing there's company.'

This was an unfamiliar territory even for me. I only dreamt of what it would feel like when it drew near. My eyes saw reality for the first time, I didn't know what was to be said that would make our hearts rhyme. Should I straighten out my face, hide the crow's feet and learn to please? Now that I dint long for company, how does one keep the tease?

On a night among the trees, when you and I once meet, with drink and plants your mother nurtures, we'll talk some about some, and more...

In the crowds of colourful birds that sat in the tallest trees, every one of them prettier than the rest across seven seas. Metaphors and similes of their beauty, made the cracks on the pavement lay at ease.

One of them remained low because you can’t fly with wings made of gold in the garden of wild unruly souls. Like the bird whose wing is broken, you are the one that couldn’t follow the motion. You can’t fly like the others or blend with their feathers.

She sat in the roar of society, keeping to herself invisible to the quietly.
A part of her died accepting that she can’t fly,
that she liked it down here and being different.
But at times she just wondered why,
what is it about her that made her insignificant that she had to lie.
Broken wings cannot fly though I’ve seen more brokenness fill the skies.

With an aroma of anticipation and she waited there for her signal, the other birds strutted their formation and blamed her for her lack of imagination.

“Go ahead feathered soul”, he said. His feather shimmering gold, she lived in denial that this new stranger fell in love with her aura of survival.

Standing alone in the courtyard, there she stands swaying in the humid breeze, a yard in the open she is a humble to fragrant Plumeria trees. Oh how I loved the wind before he took you from me, tell me it was all false and stay awhile is my only plea.
You did a swirl and you twirled in white and yellow, only to turn me into a sad old fellow!

Well I’ve waited for twenty years my love, clinging to your hopeless memory, of how there was a day that came where you couldn’t remember me.