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.
Scolded by ignorance Praised by defeat Interceded with injustice Practiced in defeat Nurtured with indifference Fed by heathen bread Sleep in huddled chambers Speak in sobered stead Cleaver is the moment Divisive is the time Abrasive the decisions Reluctant is
Ceramic memories and terracotta pain; the injured crypt ultimately got opened. At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine ritual for a nameless martyr. The sword within him was not used and pubescent bomb went unexploded. You leave a
Divide & rule is a common act in our nations, They say politics is a dirt game, though every day we experience politics, Allocation of resources been major politics, It’s a horrifying reality but we have politicians & voters, Lisa