Poetry is therapy, stress it can release
Like sleep it’s therapeutic, and it seems to be
A collection of ideas, our hopes, and what we see
Combining fact with fiction; a winning recipe.
Poetry is passion, a passion for the world
Written inspiration, there’s power in the words.
A conversation overheard, can ignite a flame no doubt
Or a stressful day, a peaceful night, moonlit sea, or drought
It’s dramatic, can be tragic, that’s what life’s about
But a sudden gloomy sight, still can’t put the fire out.

You asked why I Love you,

I love you,
as the suns rays
caress the morning,
her fibrils of light
graze blades of grass
in the grace of dawn,
my tears fall in dew

as black consumes
my splintered spirit,
a skein of skyline
ruptured magnificence,
illuminating my gift
in wonder

shorn of your sparkle
I would have never shined

I’d have not discovered love
in the eyes of the fates,
never would I have felt
your breath in my hair

as yesterdays hand
slips off my shoulder,
and tomorrows embrace
takes my gaping lips

in this, today
I breathe a thousand sighs
and soar a breathless wind

I’ve heaved the night
until the day broke,
and stood in the middle
of all and nothing

and now,
I exist in Milli seconds
between this word

and the next

Success isn't just my hobby
It's infectious, it's my addiction
It isn't just a goal I have in mind
Success is a quest, it's a mission

I no longer say that I have dreams
Because dreams, they don't come true
Now I only admit to having goals
The outcome, which depends on you

You can't control what life throws you
Change the plan, but never the goal
Success takes not only endless effort
But passion in your Mind, Heart, your Soul

I have loved boundlessly
and thought left empty

yet in the moments
minutes and hours,
we lay in the stars
of each other's eyes,
I found ecstasy but also
unfathomable sadness

Finding you in this life
stitching my destiny,
into the silken fabric
of our days together

A pattern was designed
to be rent with tears,
but weaving a chaotic arc
found lusting symmetry

the burdens of life
strained the linen,
binding our bodies
to perfections edge

whisper to me in dark places,
unshackling my silent form

revive a thousand voices,
I have sustained in forever
unspoken and formless
so as to be forgotten,
it was in a night-scape,
the void of sound
negated speech

I break into flight,
with an oath choking
on my first cry

I drift on the hair of my nape,
as the weave of my cloth
spirals, for a moment

as gums bleed out
the rhythm in my shade, refrains

Everybody has a time in their lives when they try to figure out who they are; the reason they keep breathing, the drive behind every blink. Some of us see who we are at early stages and others become intimidated. And why wouldn’t they be? you’re cold and sometimes ruthless and the most the most heartbreaking things make you smile. Ten times a day you check if he still loves you and even though there is no evidence of faded desires, you doubt that you have the truth. He has met you. He knows what you look like, he knows your moods but he doesn’t know you, really.

Long deep intake of breath
slowly expel out the mouth...
quiet steps following
from north country headed south.

Catching sight of my prey
in the blue ice field ,
Sun in his watering eyes
my position is now a shield.

Marksman behind him, zeroing in
slow intake of air, a silent breath...
Still as a statue, squint of one eye
squeeze of the trigger finds his death.

Like a phoenix
whirling on the face
of the sun,
I burn and flicker
in varied waves.

With a final ignition
the respiriting begins,
I well out sparks
and in the embers
a wondrous explosion,
love, takes my breath
and me away
 
I walk on pieces
of jiggered heart
they no longer matter not,
trickling through fingers
having long forgone hope,
shudders of a half life
shadow puppet walls

the velvet knife
of your tongue
cut my skin

into a thousand
streamers of want
I feathered against
the unknown

a breath in the grasp
of insanity

I pooled
as ribbons on
the ground,
I was tossed to roll
aimless to reality

fire licked breasts
as thighs brushed static
into the palms of your
hands …

at first touch
is the flashback,

I burn up, a white flame