The creator made no mistake, we were not made wrong, not made of expired parts, not made by faulty hands, not made of defective tools.   Yes, we were made perfect till we spread our cracks under flawed fault magnifying lenses, we spread our lives beneath broken eyes and...
I first met me at the age of awareness, I was curious, serious, Eager to explore my consciousness. Who is this me? A timid child out of sync? Fragile? weightless? Seeking to learn my individuality.   Day by day, opinions formed me, Values were handed over to me; Unquestionable! Rule...
On my father’s balcony the stars envied us, We would spread our mats and nets and gaze at them, And they would spread their beauty up above and wink at us. On this balcony the gentle breeze is our ally as we...
My mother never liked folded things, folded hands, folded mouths, for like an avalanche out of control, they just let things happen. Don't!   Do not just let things happen Your heart aches to breakup with hibernation for this is not romantic. Your mind craves some exercise, work...
"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” Henry D.Thoreau'' I took a break from blogging, about 2 years break. I was burnt out and exhausted from being many things, and if...
I do not make much of miracles I do not seek any, for I am! The miraculous is neither my quest, nor request, but they're power pills I daily ingest Miracle is the workings of my lungs the very I breathe is a...
I’m so embarrassed to tell you this, but i have not posted anything on this particular category of my blog in a long time. Finding time to mind my business, be a good mom to two active kids, pursue...
I know what the wood pecker knows that it tap incessantly at the tree for within the tree is its desire in the crevices lies its longings you say your heart has betrayed you For you do not know its desire did you tap? Maybe, maybe...
10 reasons to read 'Lest we forget'. In a world of books, and many books. In a universe of authors, writers and their clan…why should you buy and read another poetry book? Now, Poetry is not even your style. Why should...
It was a single red rose Crimson red, nestling my bed I picked it up and was forever stained Stained by you, a deep shade of you All shades of you Can’t wash off you Your scent filling my nostrils Incredibly vibrant, your love beckons Pulsing, beating,...
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Poetry itself demands life of me, Were I to ignore the pull, every intersection would lead me right to it. It’s a spiritual tugging that demands I give, give of the thoughts that flows in my veins, feeling my path through life with words. Stay connected and let us journey together