Roann Mendriq Poems

If songs reflect true love's feelings,
each note a tribute to a thought;
Each melody tenderly stealing
a heart to beat its own sweet spot!
...

The breezes gently touch my arms,
Sun beams kiss my pale, wan cheeks;
I am enchanted by the charms
of sweet whispers the wind speaks.
...

When I was but a little child,
I shied from darkness of the night;
that seemed to drown me and reviled
the simple joys of pure sunlight.
...

How strange, curious and very true
that when one's heart is overjoyed,
words are vacant, trite and few,
in lines clichéd, lost in a void.
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First rains are like a Mother's kiss,
gentle soft and pristine pure;
A sign that all, that was and is
will last forever and endure.
...

Not a whisper broke the silence
of the bleak night's solitude;
As if in quiet meek compliance
to match my own dark quietude.
...

Rain is ink but watered down to
teach a man to write his will;
Each drop, a letter, pale of hue
a pearl of wisdom to instill.
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Who will sweep out the scattered leaves,
torn from the tired, trembling trees,
and clear the wind-blown dusty eaves,
"I will! " whispers the gentle breeze.
...

The flippant rain is fickle, fey
changing with each careless breath;
to turn a pleasant monsoon day,
into a time of tears and death.
...

And when the light is fading fast,
and night begins her soft prelude;
Then shadows silently are cast,
to mark the time for solitude.
...