Afternoon Poets

For sleep comes when worry leaves;
It is too timid to confront the phantoms of the past.
Not us, though- we have laid there quietly,
Wrestling the noisy demons in our head
Till our limbs grew weary at the crack of dawn.

She

There is an unsettling thunder in her gait,
An outright mockery in her smirk;
Her half-closed eyes speak of a defiance
That cannot be defeated.
She pinches pain in those
Tight-lipped smiles of hers,
And burns all hate in her retinas.

What weapons could ever destroy her?
She is the war herself.
Armed with a silent endurance,
Clutched close to her bosom.

Breathe

And when I feel stuck in the doldrums of life,
When nothing seems to move anymore,
When I slip down the dark abyss of nothingness,
And my eyes simply don’t wish to search for the light anymore,
I take a breath.
I breathe in the air
That is moist with the tears of poets,
Ringing with the pain of musicians,
Whispering in my ears, the beautiful stories of many unpublished writers,

You First❤

With the lively words you say to the world, and the secrets that lie dead in your bosom,
In success parties and emergency meetings,
Between the pop of champagne and the tenth cup of black coffee,
It is you first.

Stoic Beauty /Blogmas ’21

There is beauty in the stitches that bind the split ends of supple skin,
And converge the otherwise parallel roads of life and death.
In the marks of bravery cradled close to one’s chest, guarding the soundly beating heart behind it,a heart that’s long immune to quakes of terror.
In the deep indentation adorning a rather muscled bicep and in both fresh and fading bruises, reflecting the strength channeled towards the struggle.