Near far

Distance; the length of space between two objects; the condition of being far off Technology; the knowledge and means of erasing the space between people far off While I sit with my darling on a couch He is intimate with another miles away While inches away I disintegrate

Curse 

Tiny wings carry the biggest weight A feather can create a balance for multiple sticks Stillness in the air screams the silence of morning chirps Purposeful feet making a beeline for predictions Shooting star on the other side of the globe makes promises For shoemakers, the breakers Verticals become horizontals, everyone is a rabbit Sleepy […]

Married at last

She pouts, sits in a corner Cries like you broke her toy Throws tantrums,  acts stubbornly Not listening to reasons, what or why Runny nose, fistful for hands Making your temper rise Tell me,  my love, marrying a child Why did you consider wise?

Arithmetic

I tried to count my woes But can’t seem to put a number on it I was never good at maths I wish I’d paid more attention in class Been good if not great at it They said you don’t need maths in life,  much They were wrong If x is your pain And y […]

Writer’s plague

They all love me so that they Can feature in a poem Not like I’m Plath or Woolf But fame comes quicker with a dome So in their hearts of heart they pray To make the grave my only home And claim immortality through me While a restless dreaded soul I roam

Hello. I hate goodbyes.

Feeds on my soul this One word that claims me In a slow purposeless death Like a child on his first Day at school The fear of abandonment, Mammoth like, hijacks My entire being (Bye rhymes well with die) There should be No goodbyes Just hellos Leave; but turn back once And say hello

The Wall

There is something between us As plain as day, or the greens on A child’s untouched plate    This space, empty as a hand That catches wind or Love in the absence of hate   Nestled between us, resolute as a Suicide bomber, this wall, its  Existence eager to satiate

Good boy

My jests are lost on you, On your fur weaved with realism Like a tic it pinches, you scratch With a look of Chaplin   Now I have lost in you My humour and my interest Why don’t you just patch Your virtues with one sin   Sit! Good boy.