Poetry Blogs (2021, real)
The bird had put the blame
On the wind
To escape from the accusations
Made by the rose
The wind had put the blame
On the season
To define herself as the breeze
That every flower wants to seize
The time had put the blame
On the ambigous space
To defend her soul once again
Arguing that she was not feeling the same
The artist had put the blame
On the lyrics of t...
Sunday 16th May 2021 5:07 am
Explaining you about my sexuality won't help
Explaining you about my existence won't help
Thought you are my buddy, will get me without explaining much.
I am just a bit different, can't you get this much.
I know you have a life partner to share all your tensions,
And wanted me to be happy, and feel all that emotions,
But I am happy just by myself,
You again and again telling me what to do...
Sunday 14th February 2021 5:13 pm
How I feel I can't find the words or ryhmes. Wouldn't be enough paper, wouldn't be enough lines. It started by means of nature and magical fate, a perfect time, an unforgettable date. You've taken my heart, my mind and my soul. Everything I knew and believed I've parted and let go .
I want it all, I want us to grow, I need to trust, I need to know. Your eyes take me to a content home of dream...
Tuesday 10th November 2020 10:06 pm
I've seen my fair share of cynical "makes no sense" and it's made no sense..
Rivers of tears afraid to test a current/affairs between men and women, unhappy that it turned out exactly like they said it would/you or wouldn't you?
But that's only because I like bloody knuckles and bent knees.. I'm a pray for you/and yours. Traded. For them and theirs/where you end...
Monday 17th August 2020 4:59 pm
Nancy comes in my dreams
Like a fairy of Disney Land
Have two wings and song
Touch hearts with no band
Nancy comes from the moon
Where the lovely stars shining
Calls me to join the song
And to share her in the dancing
Nancy, I love you so much
Can you call me only once?
Don't keep me in dreams
Just come in real to dance
Wednesday 3rd April 2019 10:42 am
Feelings that once were hidden
Are now expressed to you.
Days that once were stormy
Are now the brightest blue.
Times that once were lonely
Are now filled with pleasure.
All that once was mine alone
Are now things we both treasure.
Nights that once were cold
Are now comforting and warm.
Fears that once were very real
Are now gone with the storm.
A heart that once was broken
Can now fi...
Tuesday 17th November 2015 12:40 pm
There’s a floor called race and a home called blood,
it can be what forms you.
It can be what clothes you, what warms you as it flows through your body,
a rich honey providing brotherhood, relation, family and love -
bonds of pride which cartwheel through your body.
I have a mystery and in my father lies the clues.
I had droplets of speciality, uniqueness, distinction, excitement...
Saturday 29th November 2014 10:59 pm
What we are is real
and real is who were suppose to be
and If we were meant to be fake
our skin would be plastic like barbie,
but we are all humans.
Humans who make mistakes,
who has scars: seen or hidden,
and who has things that they wish
to change about themselves.
But, our Uniquely selves
are imperfections of beauty
because beauty isn't fake; beauty is real.
Friday 24th October 2014 10:27 pm
It was ghostly
quiet, not a
living soul around.
No one to
hear my cries.
If I should
die not to
There was only
silence, I felt
so scared and alone.
To pass away
and it not
to be known.
I clasped my
cross tight in
Friday 19th April 2013 6:50 pm
I can say I love you, I won’t ever hurt you.
We will never grow apart, fall apart, I’ll never break your heart.
I can tell you I will give you the world and more.
I can sing your praises till my throat gets sore.
I can say everyday will be better than the one before.
I can make you believe I will never walk out the door.
I can talk a load of crap if that’s what you...
Saturday 19th March 2011 7:09 pm
Artist talking to artist
As Light to Light
No outsiders hearing
What viewers have in sight.
The colours of the paintings
Reflects the artists thoughts
Though the onlookers never know
The artist’s. Mind.
Artist talking to Artist
Like words from a book
One slash here, a line there
A rounded curve
A landscape. A portrait
Of dots connecting dots
Sunday 3rd January 2010 12:43 am