There is something in that eye That dominating focal vent, That focal point that shackled gaze It's leaking ducts lament. There's something in that poets eye Or rather something out, There is something

When I smile,it ain’t smile When I laugh at,it ain’t laughter I fake smile, I fake laugh Just to show that I’m alright I always pretend to be happy all the time. But I really hurt inside. Please, look

I close my eyes in the embers of the night, Drifted away to a far away land, Where mother nature lavishes her beauty, A beautiful scenery that no eye can resist. The sun radiating its smile in the sky,

Unfinished I am insomniac again. My mind a whirlywhirl of words, spun up and spinning through the web I weave, from textures of the roads I’ve trod, among the silks of fragile papers of old books, smelling

In my dreams I see the place where we all go to meet with our ancestors and loved ones who are deceased. In this place of care and honor, amusement graces peace, creating a space to experiment with ease.

SOURCE This is where poets dream and cry Where big dreams scream as they die I'm tormented by my fantasy And resenting my reality I walk through the valley of impossibility while my mind dwells in the

book of life i wander the shores of my ocean of thoughts whimpering in the cold and dark diving for cover when the waves of emotion rise when light shining and shimmering surges toward me illuminating

They say, "Doubt has killed more dreams than failure." Indeed. I have experienced it first hand most of the time. Until now. 3:26 am and I'm wide awake. Thinking about what should I do. ... To

It was May with all the flowers blooming, He was 8 at the moment. He was on a stage, watching you watch him. He was playing the role of an Angel, Who would have thought? He’s the naughtiest boy that was

In a vision of a dark cold night, Underneath the shade of moonlight I had dream of something close to my heart, Something that had been apart. A sweet little girl with long black hair Side long glances

I remember one night Laying at street with whiskey on right Thinking that these memories may right That all things happened laid in my sight But still I pretend That this isn't end Though it hurts but

Your eyes depict The heaviness of your heart Threshing my skin Of oceans, and whipping the Corners of my neck bones Unfettered the labyrinth of lashes Withhold not your river busting it's banks Beating

You were the calmest wave in the deepest sea, You were the brightest star I ever see. You were the prettiest flower in the garden of life, In the darkest room, you were my light. You saved me in doom,

There are some who must search and struggle to find inspiration, while others, they can’t escape it. The darkness comes boring out of the happiest of moments, of joys. A malignant parasite pulsating beneath

Excitement rushes in, A delay of expectation, Our hero’s fate forever bate, To base gratification, Give them tears of joy, Tears of reason, tears of pain, But never tell about which well, Each tear from

Was It all in my head Or I am already dead Vivid images, dreams Life is not what it seems No reality will pass Under the destructive mass Never ending cycle is in motion Got to choose your own emotion

Photo Source Pixaby It was something in her eyes that spoke to his soul, that destroyed him like nothing else had or ever could. He saw the tears in her eyes, somehow before they were even visible. The

How could something so silent speak such clarity to me, as though I have never found any living thing inside the room of my soul before? The nude floor and open windows break light against us, washing

Image Source The Imprisonment of Dreams A poet's dreams are locked in the deepest corridor of her brain. Trapped, behind sealed doors the dreams knock, their knuckles bleed.  In a cell, imprisoned

I feel it in my water - The wind leaves its spore,  About the desert floor, The sand takes flight and tumbles. The mountains, back there, claw moisture from air, The land, left dry and humbled. The