Mothers of the earth
Come, if you may, with swords or guns. Remember, I won’t cry and run; I will rise from the depths of the land.
“The Baby”
In the chilly winter night as I walked past the forest, I heard a feeble crying of a baby. I shivered in my warm clothes.
Reflections
Far away from the crowd, far from the glaring chaos; out of the blaring car horns, out of the shrieks of loneliness, out of all the madness that surrounds; Out of the city, out of the cacophony I chose to go and find solace.
Echoes
I roll and roll and roll, Till I reach my desired goal. The branches grow forth, Till my body aches and is sore. My body turns old.
A Woman of Substance
She lies on the bed, a broken canvas. Fragments and splinters of an old frame, Faded colors of painted priceless picture, Greys and white, crooked dark veins, wrinkled paper skin. Frames abound on the wall’s fortress,
Let’s walk together, you and I
The world grows dim and dimmer with feeble eyes. Youth turns into a broken wheelchair; Let’s walk through the desert together, you and I.
February 18, 2023
Mothers of the earth
Come, if you may, with swords or guns. Remember, I won’t cry and run; I will rise from the depths of the land.
October 12, 2022
Clifton Beach
A strange experience by the sea-shore.
August 10, 2022
Karma
A poem about the modern way of life
May 21, 2022
“The Baby”
In the chilly winter night as I walked past the forest, I heard a feeble crying of a baby. I shivered in my warm clothes.
January 22, 2022
Reflections
Far away from the crowd, far from the glaring chaos; out of the blaring car horns, out of the shrieks of loneliness, out of all the madness that surrounds; Out of the city, out of the cacophony I chose to go and find solace.
November 6, 2021
Echoes
I roll and roll and roll, Till I reach my desired goal. The branches grow forth, Till my body aches and is sore. My body turns old.
October 9, 2021
A Woman of Substance
She lies on the bed, a broken canvas. Fragments and splinters of an old frame, Faded colors of painted priceless picture, Greys and white, crooked dark veins, wrinkled paper skin. Frames abound on the wall’s fortress,
April 3, 2021
Let’s walk together, you and I
The world grows dim and dimmer with feeble eyes. Youth turns into a broken wheelchair; Let’s walk through the desert together, you and I.
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