This is Crazy

The planets are predictable,
With their orbits and gravity;
He knew where to find them,
Wherever they may be.

He came to memorize,
What time and where,
He should sit or rise,
To accommodate them.

He fell in love with Saturn,
Neptune and Mars.
But the planets didn’t think much,
Of his unwavering love.

As long as they could pass by,
They couldn’t care less,
How hard he tried,
To look his very best.

But on days he was gone,
Looking for other things to love,
The planets vowed,
To again, love no one.

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Wildflower

To make you feel my love,
Against all the odds,
Makes me believe that nothing is impossible,
And there are indeed miracles.

To make you feel my love,
Is more than enough,
To conquer the world,
And for every bud to unfurl.

Love is a miracle—
A beautiful spectacle,
Of every color and shade,
Unraveling for those who aren’t afraid.

All my efforts weren’t in vain,
Tending to wildflowers every day,
I made them grow among weeds,
By giving them all the love they need.

FOR SALE: imported handicrafts

My Reason

A shade under a tree,
With a soft warm breeze,
That’s where I am whenever I write,
It’s the only place everything feels so right.

I can be who I am and not lie,
I can say everything that’s on my mind,
Sometimes others would sit with me,
And together we’d be completely free.

It’s the only place I find peace,
Contemplate everything that’s inside me,
All the emotions that I feel,
Find their way on paper with ink.

This is why I write poetry,
It’s the only place I can be me,
It’s where I am most free,
And where I am most happy.

FOR SALE: imported handicrafts

 

Tick-Tock

I complained that time seemed to be moving so fast–
Another month has passed,
Time seemed to have been wasted,
Like a faucet left opened.

I struggle to recall what happened yesterday,
Or the days before yesterday,
I don’t even recall the earlier of today–
It all just seems so far away

But today, time seemed to have stopped
And suddenly I hear every drop,
Of water wasted and lost,
While the two sticks were frozen inside the clock.

I much prefer it when I didn’t notice the time,
With its loud tick-tocks and chimes–
Let yet another day pass without another sound,
Or wake me up when my soul has been found.

FOR SALE: Imported Handicrafts

Burnt Bridges

The only way to cross from here to there,
Has been burnt and lost—
There’s no way across,
We’re both too aware.

Perhaps you’d dare to swim,
Through cold waters,
Tell me, would you really bother—
Only to be gone so swift?

Don’t cross the imaginary bridge,
Stay where you are,
Stay very far,
I can very well manage.

Remember you held the torch,
While I watched the bridge burn,
Never a way to return,
What is now just marks of scorch.

FOR SALE: Imported Handicrafts