Category: #Poetry
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Tomorrow Is a Compass Made of Salt
“Hope is not polite. It barges in with muddy feet and eats all your strawberries.” Life wrestles with doubt, collapse, and resilience in a dialogue that blurs the line between “I” and “You.” The mantra — “The sun will rise tomorrow, and I still have a chance” — becomes a lifeline stitched into surreal metaphors,…
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When Leaders Rewrite History for Applause
When applause becomes louder than facts, memory suffers in silence. This poem navigates a surreal landscape where history is rewritten by the powerful, and truth lingers in forgotten voices. It urges the reader to resist, remember, and reclaim narratives erased for convenience.
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The Museum of Me: My Uncollected Collections
“Do I collect things? No. I collect absences. I collect where the rain didn’t fall. Where the letter wasn’t sent. Where the apology stood naked in the doorway and turned back around.”
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How Do I Feel About Cold Weather? (a love letter in frost and fire)
“I asked you once— ‘Would you kiss me if I were trembling from the cold?’ You answered— ‘Only if you were trembling for me.’” A tender journey through the seasons of love, memory, and vulnerability, where winter isn’t just a backdrop—but a character in the story of us.
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You, The Sensorium: Writing Through the Five Senses
You do not write with your hands. You write with your skin, your tongue, your earlobes. You are not a poet. You are a sensorium— an instrument of perception, rebelling against the sterile blankness with every breath, every taste of thunder, every scent of unfinished dreams.
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The Osteology of the Soul: Have You Ever Broken a Bone?
Not all fractures leave scars on the skin. Some live quietly beneath the surface—in broken dreams, trust fall failures, and spiritual hairline cracks. Let me take you beyond physical pain into the soul’s X-ray—where silence screams, time shatters, and healing limps in metaphor. Have you ever broken a bone… the kind no doctor can fix?
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The Tilted Gospel: A Poetic Dissection of Work-Home Balance
“Balance is not a mindset. It’s a muscle, and mine trembles under the weight of my own expectations.” In this two-part poem, I try to explore the tension and tenderness of modern life. A visceral journey through exhaustion, guilt, presence, and the sacred art of simply trying.
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Cartography of the Hands: in Touch and Memory
“Your palm is a map I’ve never fully traced. Sometimes it’s Africa. Sometimes it’s heartbreak. Always, it’s moving. Always, it’s mine only for a minute.”
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Beauty is Like Wars: It Opens Doors
A haunting exploration of beauty’s paradox through the lens of war, memory, and self-reclamation. It unfolds across time—revealing how beauty can both wound and awaken, close in silence and burst through boundaries like fire.
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The Funeral of Fire: Desire, Sex, and What Remains
Desire enters before it knocks, cloaked in mirrors and metaphors. This journey untangles the mystery of longing and the quiet funeral that follows every act of sex. It explores how we touch, lie, remember, and forget—all in the name of wanting.
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