I saw birds

flying high

in the sky.

I wanted to

join them but

I can't fly.

Sometimes I feel

low, and I

just want to cry.

My smile, for

you see it

is fake.

Cause my soul

it surely

does ache.

I look for

a glimpse of

peace, ...

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It's said

"laughter is

the best

medicine."

But poetry

heals the

soul.

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Withered flowers fastened to a wasting bench,
Its plaque and pickled paint are weathered long.
The buckled slats curl flecks on harshest winter's freeze.
Where age defies intent to which it did belong.

As passers-by whom in their daily cues entrenched,
They, wrapped in woolen shields, look blindly on
And notice not the broken petals on the breeze,
Nor sense the echo of a parted...

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I lie and let the waves wrap 'round my feet,
As midnight skies perform the second act,
Where black and blue so effortlessly meet
And force the waters cold around my back.
I feel the sand bequeath my buried toes;
To let the grit defy my sodden skin
And as the open door to my soul grows
I let the frothy waters trickle in.

The moonbeams push my head into a daze
And buckle up t...

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The membrane of your soul is as

fragile as a butterfly’s wing as

delicate as a spider’s web as

beautiful as a swansong as

intricate as a concerto but as

vulnerable as a sonata

as caring as a doting mother as

tender as a lover as

colourful as a paint palette as

defensive as a lion as

protective as a bunker but still,

the membrane of y...

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