Life’s Dish

Everyone fights a batter within We stir, whip, fold and sieve Sorrow, misery, and a drop of grief Minced smiles and grated dreams A dash of hope and sugary whims A sizzling summer of sirloin kiss An aged wine composite of tears and love Bittersweet, umami, salty, and spicy If it is The way we … Continue reading Life’s Dish

My Eyes Roll

(Updated April 2022) My eyes roll itself between the lines of your sarcasm; Slowly, and painfully, squeezing through your words; Like a balloon rolling on landmines, pretending it is floating; Except, it is not - Safe. Like how I smile, pretending I am not - Hurt. Like a sharp arrow, pretending it is harmless; It … Continue reading My Eyes Roll

The Wanderer Wonders

I stood watching leaves float down like golden sparkles; covering crossroads in layers of lime-yellow. Shining bright it was, blinding, yet the path was gone. The sun has set in puddles of orange and violet casting damp shadows on the walkway; soon the light will go and panic will takes its place. Yet, wasn't it perfect … Continue reading The Wanderer Wonders

Perfect Morning

Peace and quiet painted on colors of the dawn, like sprinkles of sunshine on cupcake; The sleeping leaves snuggled into blankets of sunlight; Branches glistened with crystal-clear dew as they wake; like the fresh rustle of mint breath in the morning and a symphony of sweet songs by the Robins. Photo by Wildlife photographer David Chapman, … Continue reading Perfect Morning

I’ve detached

I’ve detached. That soul-freeing moment, disembarked. I fly with my wings Tired but resilient, peace in chaos I’m not running away, I’ve detached.   That moment, I’m here but I’m not. Like an ice-cold shield over my warm-weak heart I’m not resisting I turned away but I’m here I’ve detached   So like anaesthetic, the … Continue reading I’ve detached

Insecure Rebels, We are.

People. We are active rebels; rebelling against life, rebelling against rules, rebelling against each other. We are active controllers; constantly comparing, judging, criticising, categorising. Innate desperation. Making sense, being right, even while doing the wrong thing. Insecure, we are Insecure, obedient slaves of society. Bounded by our own chains, because laid path was easier than wild grass; … Continue reading Insecure Rebels, We are.