poem · poetry

Emotions

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At times I am a shattered piece.

Misconstrued. Bits of my brokenness

Scattered stunningly to my foes.

Weakened. Unable to end dreams girdled

By the ever-expanding aftermath of rotten feelings.

Discarded. Yet they still turn up uninvited;

Like new invoices seeKing to join an ever-growing

Stack of overdue bills.

Imperfect. Fighting a me version that

SpriNgs streams of ungodly passions.

Helpless.

 

poem · poetry

F***boys

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His lips, his limbs, his perfect self

Collectively leave me lusting to delve

Into a cold rogue who turns me deaf

Inattentive to n’ rather, condoning offence

He who likes not one but roughly twelve

Additional women besides himself

 

I’m one of they he loves to touch

Creme de la creme indeed when they luck

My arms, my waist, my all he demands

Voicelessly, only with a bewitching charm

He pursues to completion his only task

And there is I with my mouth shut

Compliantly meeting his magic grasp

 

“He’s beautiful, dazzling and very brave

He’s stout, tantalizing and well-behaved”

At least thats what I assume she claims

For everyday she seems to be his fave

The cream of the crop that leaves him crazed

And the rest of us? – hurt and deeply dazed

 

j.w

 

 

 

poetry

Dad

img_9177.jpgYour existence is nothing but a mere imagination.

A broken image that surfaces in my head rarely.

A fleeting thought mostly disregarded in ignorance,

But in rare occasions resists the force that churns,

My thoughts and instead harassingly haunts me.

 

j.w

 

 

Memoir · poetry

A Memoir

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A vivid image of your splendid face still

Invades my thoughts and makes me

Vanish into an endless cycle of wistful

Memories from when we were younger.

Those long gone days when you could still

Whisper a mischievous plan in my ear

And make me giggle from the tickling sensation

Of air waves propagating through my ear canal.

I still get sickened knowing that time is

Irreversible and that those are passed days,

Inaccessible to mortals. That those days when

We would wander about the brown, roasted

Grasses of the Savanna hunting for ladybugs

Will never be re-lived or retrieved from the

Ashes of scattered memories they left behind.

An image of the day we unknowingly shifted to

‘Less doing’ and ‘more talking’ still presents itself.

I admit I started to find you a total bore when you’d

Lay lazily in bed all day, but your anguish imprisoned

Me by your bedside because you were my only friend.

Each day you got sicker and sicker until the critters

Eventually liberated your soul and left behind a

Lifeless body and a girl with exhausted tear ducts

Stuck with a blank expression in unwavering disbelief.

Even to this day, I still dearly miss the ‘birthday-less’ boy

With the infectious laugh who’d be prompted to narrate

A lengthy tale to a wimpy girl who wouldn’t fall asleep.

 Shalo, I miss you.