Shining the eyes back to the agesGlancing through the Black CityAnd Hearing the mystic rythm rid of pityOf the jungle drums pure and untaintedAll assets were in the primitive and unpainted Shining the eyes back to the agesFlipping through the pagesOf the Fathers, their fight against the cagesAnd their rage against the illusion and intrusionOf…
Like a wild bee in search of her flowersI waited for you to whisperWhat’s on your heart to my earI wanted to hear that deepSweet melodious voiceSinging out your sentiments Like a wild bee in search of her flowersI glance every secondHopeful to meet you eye ball to eye ballThen you tell how you feel…
What we craving for today, others couldn’t take to the grave.But we hope to attain them someday.For now, gratitude is a necessity as we live in the hope of seeing the goals we would own.
If fire could have an unending flame, I would have thought you would last too. But unfortunately when the fire dies, it produces nothing but cold ashes. I guess that’s how the fire in your heart acts now.
I’m left vacant and pensive mood, trying to solve the puzzle of your absence. I missed your essence but I guess I cannot alter a change. No matter how I mend the wrongs, there would be an evidence of the patches.
Love is that music, so melodious and alluring. I want to play the dii doo of my heart to you. I want to blend the guitar strings to convey my affection for you.
If someone had said we will part, I would have tagged him an enemy but he was being sincere though. I stationed my mind thinking we would be but no I was wrong.
Poverty is a disease. When you read this poem, kindly extend a hand of kindness to those on the street begging for alms, no matter how dirty or stinky they might be. Let’s show love to those who need it in whichever small way we can.
My heart swells heavilyAs I move from here and thereWith no distinct directionI crumble on the floorWith my head on my palm It’s beats at a fastest rateIn the day and in the nightThough a little sleep might finds its wayThe pump hinders it from lastingAnd there I will layAlone in the dark wondering My…
No one is born with a silver spoon in the hand but honestly hailing from a poor background is frustrating and traumatizing.