Fortunately for her, she was a loner. Never concerning herself with the midnight luxuries so many chased, the constant need to remain fast paced, solitude was her place. What consumed her now was of thicker value. Tighter knots of wisdom and robust intellect. Speaking her…

An elegy, you say? Nay. I will speak my own words, In my own way. Not out of pride, But of necessity.   Hypnos calls me, Somnos will not let me go. Phobetor, Phantasos, And Morpheus invite. I succumb, To Mr Sandman.  

The sun has risen, soaking me up in its light. I crave for a vision, and a song I heard last night. I need no words to rhyme, I need no lucky sign. Just a lovely smile to shine, by my side, in my sight.

“Immovable by storm Firm as a mountain Composed in praise or blame Union of strength and tenderness..” Seema Sahoo ©

I wonder which voice my poems sound best in at what hour to which person I imagine they are most true always after midnight and always to people who only exist as passers-by until I write them into permanency. man-made memorandum. __ar.  

Peace is what everyone wants Silence is something which still haunts People are together but wander apart Some stay far and still in heart All one wants is a kind of love which makes them feel like a dove A promise that remains unspoken Fills…

Hour 3 – 8:00 AM   If love was your friend, then where did he go. I’ve loved many, but they too got old. Your impressive with that hair. That smile. But you let me down every time I see you howl. Your growl is…

Climb on board Let’s take a trip Higher, higher Rising up. In between, Above, below And all around We fly. A new galaxy.

new shoes: her memories, dead skin against my live one, (…and right now, she’s winning!)

A child’s fingers tying canvas shoelaces. Tentative steps out the door, Burdened with books, Fraught with anxiety, Answering uncertainly.   A soldier’s fingers tying bootlaces. The smell of polish before morning parade. In the service of the nation, Orders are barked, and followed. With resentment,…