The world is hard, cold, and dark.
The light fights with the night.
Sun, moon, and stars we see from afar.
The distance makes them small.
Sometimes, they look like they could fall.
Mystery is mystical.
Intriguing, uniquely full.
What is with this night?
I’m itching for a fight.
Maybe it’s just the tides.
They can create great divides.
Magic from the gods.
Secrets that make us odd.
Truth in all we see.
Truth in you and me.
She left me for my failures
I left her for my success
She gave me the way to escape my ego
I gained my solace
But the fate laughed
In return she was pierced with hatred and sadness of my traits
Our story was incredible, fascinating, mesmerising
But was awarded us with parting our feelings
the girls, flocked together like a gaggle of geese, turned towards me as one and seemed to sneer with their eyes, the way some smile with theirs.
i simply looked back, and wished my body would disintegrate into little dust mites and disperse into the air vents
i kept asking myself that day, that week, why people kept looking at me.
might have been the smell
Today I will just speak to you
about the sound of the water falling,
and of the yellow, dry cattails
that break under my footstep
when I’m sitting down
to see the sun
setting.
Tomorrow I will tell you
of the swallows soaring
in the sky, to which i raise my gaze
abandoning the pen that
writes the poem of today,
making it a yesterday.
and yesterday I have already written
you a poem:
it’s pinned next to the door
so you won’t forget to smell the jasmine
while walking out to the world.
I can hear from far
Little elves dancing in the forest
I follow the whistling wind
Searching for these spirits
The smell of raw mud
The sight of luscious green
The dawning of a season
Comes rushing in
Those beautiful moments
Which we lived together
Which we rejoice together
I owe you
The time of absence
The time of anxiousness
The time of togetherness
I owe you
The smile you gave
The lap you gave
The clap you gave
I owe you
Those caring hands
Those sharing hands
House made in sands
I owe you
I owe you
tonight I will, do the ground work in order to harvest good fruits as I prepare to plant these seeds, I think of each time a lie was planted in me to hinder my thought process from progres and stunt my growth
and thinking abilities to unlearn and discern a lie,
I rise above the madness despite the matter, only the truth matters and the lies leaves us scattered
I will learn from the past mistakes and be cautious of who and what I allow into my sacred place. mindful and aware of the influence it has on me and the power to interrupt my flourishment. A lot depends on me and whom I chose to be spiritually involved with meanwhile constantly evolving and not disregarding the revolution and the power it possesses.
School is a place where we have to pay attention to teachers.
School is where freedom ends.
School is where Ms.Jenny makes us learn non-important stuff.
School is where Math with Mr.John turns into us dying slowly of boredom.
School is where Science with Ms.Olivia explains stuff more than letting us do experiments.
School is where P.E is where Mr.David makes us stand around and wait for 20 minutes.
School is where Social Studies we have silent work time but we are never silent.
School is where our Reading teacher makes us read non-important books.
For years I longed,
For a place where I belonged,
Warm and sheltered, comforted and free,
Found it under a great big tree.
After years of shelter the tree gave way,
and its shadow began to slowly fade away.
But before the shadow had completely vanished,
Had to step out without the feeling of being banished.
Burnt by the heat and hit by rain,
Then came the memories flooding, leaving me in pain.
Wanting to runback into the comfort of the shadow,
Unsure of my future, I even seeked tarot.
After some time out in the open,
Slowly started to heal and mend what’s broken.
Heat turned to warmth and rain to showers,
I started to enjoy my new found powers.
There I stood once again reborn,
This was just the beginning of a new day’s dawn,
Looking back at the tree’s shadow, nowhere was it found,
Searched for it high and low and then I turned around,
For there it was once again,
Strong and sturdy as if nothing had changed,
But this time the shadow was not of the tree,
It was my own, the shadow was of me….
As a mobile phone begins to vibrate
the fish go about their business in a ghostly dance
unaware of the signals being sent. They are
surrounded by an abyss of hallowed darkness.
They survive in perpetual motion; trills, reverberations,
fluctuations, and wiggling spines maneuvering
through a salty universe of liquid pitch. Among their
presence lies a spy constantly awake.
A hidden eel, with its intricate weaving of wires
and mesh, an intertwined spaghetti of fibre optics,
that delivers the finite elements of human emotions
across the ocean and into opposing worlds.
This back bone of communication carries the continual
whispers and murmurs of desires, images and revelations
at high speed intervals. Its secrets shrouded in
those quiet, icy depths. An apparition is eavesdropping
though, floating in deep indigo and cobalt,
he is illuminated in real-time by tiny
stars of plankton–silver streams of light,
jutting through torn curtains illuminating his show.
This is his portable stage where he sings his songs
to an empty audience day after day.
He steals their secrets to compose his ballads.
The constant chatter and crackle of noise that
travels in that subterranean
network is the source of his inspiration.
His lonely blues at its 52 Hertz, reveal
the ills and wants of the world. He croons away
in hopes that some entity will eventually answer
his call giving his voice a platform before it’s too late.
Instead, there is only silence on the other end of the line.
Inspired by The Washington Post article: The Lonliest Whale in the World This poem is inspired by an article about reports from scientists about a male whale that has been swimming alone around the ocean for years singing at 52 hertz.
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 