The sea has travelled west to cross my path while I was travelling north to find mountains and in the moment I wondered where did it all start and is it the end. I have travelled so far away from home that I don’t remember what colour it was but I miss books and bed … Continue reading The Sea Sings
They stole parts of me when thoughts met like land and sea at the horizon and I mistook them as soul. Now there are patches and holes made by hope that transformed into expectation and the parts that remain are rotting every day, leaking poetry and song, unaware that there is a right time for … Continue reading can you stitch me?
I used to think fear is strange until I realised it doesn’t exist. I have always believed that freedom lies in controlled expression. Everything uncontrolled is just anger and rage and chaos I stay away from. Did I forget to tell that I am a Clown and this isn’t a joke? Clowns think before they … Continue reading Clown
I am searching for poetry in words that lingers on your lips. Poetry that will be my strong morning coffee in chill of winter. Maybe someday I will collect all those words and some paper will be lucky enough to feel their rage. For now I am tired, feeling unloved, empty for the lack of … Continue reading Where I search for poetry…
Once upon a time, love changed. It was too tired of the position it held, for years, too tired of sleeping straight, so it twisted a bit- E and V exchanged their positions and now it's read Loev. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- *In conversation with love* “What has changed?” “Everything.” “By just a change in spelling? Why did … Continue reading Loev
Before she left, she washed me. She washed every bit of my skin as if she had committed a sin which needs to be removed. The tiniest cell on my skin felt her hand destroying marks her lips had left, scratches her nails had dug, and letters she wrote in languages unknown to me. Before … Continue reading 10 years older.
Omran Daqneesh sits in the back of an ambulance after being dug from the debris of an air strike in Syria on Thursday.Photograph by Mahmud Rslan / Anadolu / Getty What else can it be? The boy who was having troubles with his father, sat in his office; a father, who might have, for the … Continue reading Fate
My hands stretch out to find something as if my palms inhale fresh air under a tree facing the morning sun and try to follow the smell. It is searching for something, it always has since birth. And don’t confuse it with another love poem, for it's not another hand or the hot coffee with … Continue reading Hands
“How are you?” I am fine. Except for the fact that I want to feel lonely at times, just to feel that numbness and find silence inside, I am fine. I let people go, not because they want to, but because I want to be alone, I reply brutally or misbehave, snapping the ties, bonds … Continue reading How are you?
Walking alone towards home
I ponder over my destiny.
Each day as I return from work
It seems as though the setting sun
Wants my daily progress report
And sinks in disappointment
Seeing meagre achievements.
Walking under the amber lights
I look at fellow humans
In a rush to reach home themselves
Or perhaps to reach their workplace, I know not.
For some, the road is their workplace;
Their sullen faces betraying disappointment
Frustration and monotony.
I also see people amble past.
As if they are from another realm.
Families of four, crowds of three, groups of two.
They appear rich, in wealth and in love;
Their sight compounds my frustrations
And convinced that I am a lone warrior
I trod along with heavier steps.
Feeling emptier than before.
As I open the door to my home
My mother receives me with a smile
Glad that I came back
For every day is a struggle.
In the warmth of my home
I realize a great fool I was
To have deemed myself miserable
I am but as wealthy as any other,
My bastion of love filled with definitely more occupants to come.
But bastions don’t move with the warrior, do they?
And so I go off to sleep
With my blade of hope re-sharpened.
The next day cynicism shall blunt it again
And the setting sun shall still remain unimpressed.