A teenage girl strolling down the street
Looking around the city and it's outskirts
Meditating in the process
She gazes at the sky and smiles
...
There has never been a time
or will there be a time,
when my heart will allow me
to love less or reciprocate less
...
Through the valleys,
I walk...
its darkness threatens me not,
because life has suckled me bone-dry.
...
A love never anticipated
One never presumed
As a mystery it happens
Twisting all dimensions
...
At a certain point in time, there was that young me, so inquisitive and curious.
Always seeking out for new adventures, scenarios and experiences.
So naive and ingenious I was, accompanied with a timid mind that was afraid of exploring new things.
I would talk to myself, inform of mediation, just to help me gather some balls.
...
How hard is holding on?
When all you get is being pushed away
By the people you love and cherish
A heart wrecking moment it is
...
Life's truly a mystery
Only thee can comprehend
Times and times again
...
I will love you.
But not how I used to love.
Because my heart was toyed with.
My past has been so cruel to me.
...
If I had done this; Could it have turned out better?
If I hadn't done it; Would it turn out any different?
If life gave me a second chance; Would I have lived better?
If it all happened as I anticipated; Would I be happy?
...
Why me? Why always me?
Not myself, anyone but myself.
Living in a fantasy to bury the reality,
Making myself the mystery,
...
As I catch up to a night coffee
While sitting on the couch
By eight o'clock in the evening
Momma joins me
...
A time left to waste, yet a lot could have been done about it (pondering about it) ,
Nothing was to call to fault apart from us, the perpetrators of our own parting.
A little more time devoted to us was all that was needed, but your own selfishness couldn't let you.
Self-seeking you were, provoked by your self-centeredness.
...
When I am down - I revert to my pen and paper ~ inscribing all my weary thoughts on a scroll.
So relinquishing it is - writing connotes therapy ~ alleviating to our crushed spirits.
Dewy-eyed while writing - tears dropping on paper ~ drying in due time courtesy of the sun's scorching heat.
Appending indelible ink on paper - indefinite reference written ~ storing all the pain felt permanently.
...
Times and times again, we trip and fall in life.
Not deliberately, suddenly we are afflicted,
By the unexpected events of life,
So devastating they are! Out of our control, helpless we are.
...
Toiling under the sun is part and parcel of us in order to bring food on our table...
As breadwinner of our families, we ought to.
Nothing comes at a silver platter, even luck has to align with effort for it to transpire.
From ages past, toiling under the sun has been the norm.
...
You are constantly second-guessing yourself, your confidence is shot, and you are questioning your perception of reality.
Sound familiar? You may be a victim of gaslighting.
The term is used to describe a form of emotional abuse where one person gradually manipulates another in order to gain control.
...
My love, listen to my heart.
Heed to my longing soul, it aches excruciatingly.
Align with its rhythmic call of love, incessantly seeking for you.
A rhythm that pulpitates my heart, rooting it to pound so hard.
...
It didn't seem as it did,
when you left for a trip,
far to the western world,
bearing I was at first.
...
As we live
Random thoughts we have
Conceived through enchantment
Willing to enact on them
...
I am passionate about writing and I am good with imaginative poetry, essay writing and narrations. I ought to improve on my writing skills further through your guidance, support and positive criticism of my writing. All your comments, notions and connotations are welcome, highly regarded and appreciated. I accord poem hunter as my extended family as I seek to expatiate on my writing skills and knowledge. I am of a notion that my ebullient desire and passion for writing will elevate me to greater heights with your utmost assistance.)
Life Is A Routine
Everyday,
You wake up,
You brush,
Go to work,
Comeback,
And sleep.
The next day,
The same thing,
Over and over again,
Till you run out of breathe,
And meet your creator,
In the heavens.
But something compels us,
To keep on doing the same thing every day,
Without asserting it as tedious,
And that is self-love,
Because no one wants to lose their life,
However monotonous it becomes.
Hope is to live,
Living is to hope,
Hope enables us to rise up when the rooster crows,
Life is hope,
Hope is life.
Keep on going until you can no more, it's all that matters when all Hope is lost. Giving up is only an option for the weak, the strong believe in advancing a step further.
Do it once, a mistake it qualifies. But do it the second time, an intent it becomes. Do it the third time, a habit it becomes.
Giving up is an option for those who weren't up for the task.
You only do what you thought about.
Desire does not die when we fear, it dies when we give in to fear.
Happiness is free, do not attach any monetary value to it.