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.
When something exists, the opposite does too Black and white, hot and cold, old and new Love and hate, heaven and hell, left and right North and South, peace and war, day and night To give, to fix, to begin,
With scrunched and bushy furrowed brow I often ponder the precise circumstances that any thing 2 be born this way as a poker face Tracing back lineage of self or arbitrary individual unpredictable as the Dow Reckoning a series of
Down through the millennia grand armies have marched across plains of destruction. Battle cries forever lost in the ether, spilt blood absorb and recycled. Names of the warriors forever lost, unknown to the future. Civilizations have come and gone some
A toddler unrobes the secret of death. Modifies the circadian rhythm of honeybees, opens the daisy clock. Cage of tears. The virus had the acrid odour of sulphide. Decay. It never happened before. Spring was helpless. Primrose forgot to secrete