Glance upon the mirror

it shows nothing same twice

nothing holds fast 

time, beauty, money, or lies

they slip, slide, creep on by

like the smiles that flitter upon lips that glitter

words upon word lies

fickle life

bending, changing, demanding

till the last semblance of life.

Glimpse upon thy mirror,

or the image shall fly…


Nostalgia: down memory lane

Today I felt like going through some of my old pieces, see what lay there buried in the deep dark and forgotten dusty memories, and I happened upon a poem I wrote 3-4 years ago. It had been one of my favorites back then, and reading over it today, it’s become a favorite again. 
I thought I’d share it with you. Some of you may have read it years ago, but for others, it’s a buried treasure I thought I’d share, this rear day I feel like celebrating some of my pieces, starting with this humble piece, ‘Poem, Yours’.
My love of writing was what inspired it, and I hope somewhere, your own passions starts talking g to you as you read it. 
I give you….
Poem, Yours

Your voice speaks

With written words

Off tea-coloured pages
Visions, images –splashed

With characters

In spreading black ink
Your quill turns

With the slightest whiff

That the scribes are true
Freshness of verse engulfs

And dawn-colour steals across

The neon-blue heavens
Like a lover, your laughter floats out

Through the fibrous tangles

Reaching my longing ears
And I hear…
The paragraph that holds life

Sprinkled here and there

The words of love
You are the very poem

You compose in the twilight

You are my favourite creation.
And I read…
The words, the

Feeling behind the piece…

I read you.

Into the Night

Into the Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go quiet without a fight,

rage, rage against the dying of a life.

Do not go silent into the morrow,

rage, rage against the passing of the time.

Do not go discreet with the passing hours,

rage, rage against the careful plight.

Do not go simple into this life,

rage, rage for the quest alike. 
Do not go gentle my friend,

go in a frenzy your own way.

(Inspired and propelled by Dylan Thomas’ poetry).


Cry, cry you may.

The words fall on deaf ears.

Noise filters not through haze.

Life, it has but been waste. 

Time matters, as long as displayed;

Msgs, txts, the numerous #hastags!

Friends aplenty on the wide world of web.

Yet, very few know what it takes;

to go through day by day. 

Life in motion is only motion,

seemlessley going nowhere. 
Lols, Lmaos and TGIFs 

bring back Thursdays.
But wait… Who brings back this moment? This place? This…something.
You don’t care. Another selfie communicates. 
Me, mine, my. How’s my face? status update.
OMG, wtf. Society has abbreviated

in every which way. 

So do TC.


Eyes smile wide at the passing trend.Life chugs at an astounding pace.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow; what’s the difference?

For it all just blends; insignificant.
Tomorrow’s history, today is a mystery, and yesterday, babylonian history. 

Mankind races, not for nature nor nurture; for manmade oddities.

All the while earth bleeds for greed and temporary feats.

Eyes smile wide at a passing trend. 

Soon to be extinct: everything.  

Can I tell you a story?

Can I tell you a story?A floppy, flimsy story. 

Of a fairy who mopped, 

the carrot-topped hill.

Dirt, dirt, so much it is.

Yet the dirt only shifted,

never left. 

Can I tell you a story? 

A silly kind of story.

Of a jinn in its bottle

swarming eagerly the opening.

Waiting patiently for an exit 

yet held all the magic of the world.

It did.

Can I tell you a tale?

A bearded tale of gentry

who bid adieu to his lady

too cowardly to sing 

My lady.