When poetry touches the soul, everything starts making sense. The inner world seems real and the outer one becomes bearable. When thoughts mixed with words travel through the empty spaces of mind, poetry happens to me. It always has been a mysterious force guiding me through. With two published books and one amaturish blog, I consider myself blessed to have started this journey. An old diary with think brown cover and an over used, end bitten pen. That’s where real magic begins! May you find your undiscovered meanings in my poems. May existence make sense. Even if just for a little while.
The bones are brittle as are the thoughts they crumble events of yesterdays that never happened things that happened not remembered today becomes another time faces and events mingle become a crazy quilt He sits and stares unaware of a
When a rose turns old petals fall but the rose bud remains and its beauty and fragrance leaves a lasting impression in our minds Sure the beauty and fragrance of a rose lasts but briefly but the rose garden goes
A pair of hazel eyes look at me. Your ‘bandana’ runs up to forehead, a scarf covers nose, chin and below, the pinky complexion of your cheeks lures me to paint you as a lovely maid. There is no invitation
(1) In old time, Before the sun stopped circling around us; Before it started to work as a painter of our shadows and the shadow of time over place; Before it adopted the hobby to boil sand inside a vessel
Our dawn falls with smile falling blind What constructed me, out soaring mine All the insecurities that you have shed Chained my glory in your empty dread I saw your imperfection and every flaw Still I could not resist, the