It is the eyes that give her away In them are the shadows that seem to haunt In them is a masked pain, a veil that descends Yes, her eyes give her away   Behind the smile that captivates Her eyes hold mysteries that are unfathomable Her eyes delve into …

I will survive, like I always do… I’m down and out but still about My silent wounds still do shout My energy is sapped but will lives I may be tired yet ask, ‘what gives?’ In adverse tides, I learned to lay low In kinder instances, I learned to grow …

On A rain sodden morn Under stormy overcast grey skies the winds are ominous, moaning, yelping, and shrieking their path through the statuesque pines howling and unleashing their onslaught Image – Will Swann via unsplash This poem has been written in a reverse nonet format. A nonet is a relatively …

  If I speak now, would you hear me? Would you really listen, cock an ear And put down your paper, turn to me And ask, ‘what is it? I’m all ears.’ If I speak now, would you look at me? Would you look at me, raise an eyebrow Smile …

Blow gently O wily wind as you pass through my lands My child sleeps in gentle slumber. Do not rustle; do not swish as you pass by my house My child rests his wearied bones. As the night darkens and rain looms in the heavens Do not disturb, let my …

Halt the flight of the raging wind Let it howl, moan but in confines. Under the grey skies, leave me be My frail and battered body pleads. The heavens have mercy, I entreat I am old and alone, do have a care. Allow me to go forage for my food …

Tighten the noose around the neck of the dying sun Let it not escape, let it not sink beneath the horizon Leave it suspended a while longer, out on the skyline I am not done watching the sunset, it is not yet time   Scatter some birds, let them fly …

You do not see me for I am not your shadow Yet it is you that I furtively, doggedly follow You do not hear me for I am not your voice Yet I dictate your actions and your choice.   I am always there looking from the outside in Even …

Into the jungle wanders a path lazily snaking its way Amid lush foliage that glistens under the sun-kissed breeze. It meanders off towards A hillock that stands a way off, As if aloof in its demeanor, Reclusive in its habit. The overhanging boughs Covered with moss and lichen Swoop down …

Refracting through the glass pane of my window The beam of light breaks into iridescent colors Angling itself from the surface, it dips, falls down To alight on a patch of the flooring. The patch lights up as if infused by the beam And glints in the prism-like shades of …