A collection of poems - Part 1
Midnight musings formed into sentences of amusement.
Haunting Nostalgia
You
who came into my life like a car crash,
the sound of horns warning me of your presence.
Yet I cannot steer away from what was coming.
So like the cars, we collided.
You, were the inevitable.
You
who appear above the horizon
ascending through the skies
giving light to others
giving hope for a new day.
But in the depths of the sea,
is where you found me.
Guiding me, lighting up the way.
You, were the dawn.
You
like the waves at sea
came rushing to my feet,
a new sensation you brought upon me.
Yet just like the waves
you also left me.
You, were my serenity.
You
like the coffee I make
in the mornings as I wake up
and drink it while its hot
until I realize the rough burn it left in my tongue.
You, are my bitter sweet regret.
The Language of Flowers
A mere flower on the ground
may utter words you cannot hear.
But, observe and listen,
pour your heart unto them
and you may just hear
a whisper.
Quite quaint with clarity.
Sitting in comfort,
turning page after page, a book
filled with a garden of hues.
Leaving me mesmerized, by the idea
of speaking, not with words, but
a flower.
Small and delicate.
A rush of memories flow
remembering moments of receiving flowers,
giving them as an offering to the lost,
even throwing petals to the ground for a path.
Miniscule details, yet gives
a meaning.
A hope, a prayer, a wish.
A sign of loss, painful and tragic.
A sign of life, beautiful and fleeting.
A communication made with words
that can't be said, instead
expressed through
a language.
Filled with beauty and grace.
Dazed for Days
Light,
peaks through my window sill
hinting at what it brings;
a bright, and warm morning.
Sound,
of my alarm that I set last night
to wake the living soul out of me;
five more minutes please.
Eyes,
closed again for another minute or so
until I unfold my eyes and stare above
such an interesting ceiling.
I'm awake.
Yawn,
as I stretch my hands and wipe my eyes
sitting in my bed, thinking about
the motivation I forgot to keep.
I struggle.
Sigh,
it's going to be another long day.
In Memory
there is a cemetery
I frequently visit,
but it's in my head.
pedestals upon pedestals
of words unsaid,
and mourning of regrets.
I have died a couple of times
from the things I haven't done and said
only because I was afraid.
so this is in memory of
what could have been
if only I was a bit brave.
