Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.

Paul Engle

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Lonely Only

man crossing tracks

Amidst of joyous merriment sitting lonesome in solitude Own shadow as company at a tether’s end fortitude With none of any inclination for any indulgence to ignite Reminiscing all times of yore with so much there to excite Am sure all the ones cursing for me to be in such a state Are not any

Crimson Warmth

walking monks

Vague log cabins speckle the yawning valley against the rapture of majestic mountains. Narrow pathway snakes up the range, gooseberry shrubs colour the sides of the stony trail that leaves me cold. Squinting against the dead sun chilly winds dampen my spirits and leave my hair cold and white. My Spine aches, am indecisive to

Say Yes

silver sun rays

they always engross to bury you and you are digging that your true face rise up with no any word of complain until something miraculous happen with you so you kept mum and like Sisyphus you may grow up or die to look after you every moment you must die before that Almighty’s eyes that

Love

Piccadilly Circus

A little flicker on the edge A darting dog’s last day A dagger from a dancing eye A thought of buried clay Love that’s unseen may be unfelt, and may as well be blind as he who loves, as he who’s loved Although it fills, it hides. It’s always been, within, without it nourishes the

Eve Speaks

adam and eve

Although just one snake is well known in that so-called paradise, actually there were tons of them. When we ran away, I was never so happy. My feet no longer touching swarms of mushy poison. Fruit smelled to high heaven in Eden but berries tasted yum yum good as we filled our faces hurrying happily

Evermore….

nature

Life happens. Traipsing on, a path to eternity… The paths unknown, the sands not seen Yet the hearts, tuned to the thought, Love is our lives, lives are for love. The music settles, on our souls.. Gripped in the depths, forever known. The chorals, and swings of the cosmos, Tuned fatuous, for our sublime regards..