A miscarriage

My hands crumple as Paper napkins They wither Under osmosis As my heart No longer beats Through viscera I see a bird Afar- A shiny heart Clutched And hidden beneath Its wings, Hearts melt When one sings Melodies My mouth Emits a new life And I catch hold Of it in my womb Adorning it… Continue reading A miscarriage



I grew up In this cityIn which I have agedOr it has aged with me, can't sayI see wiresAs callusesI planted seeds in Its visceraEons ago          NowBrick by brickThey take outIts innardsWith the precisionOf a surgeonI think ofEducating myselfI am sceptical of RuinsWho dies a natural death?         … Continue reading Ruins

Poetry · Rhythmic Hues

Tempestuous fires

Lustful staresRavenous despairs.Luscious lipsSumptuous hips.Ample bosomFeelings blithesome.Beautiful thighsSensuous sighs.Smouldering embersIntoxicating splendour.Mahogany firesTempestuous desires.Million kissesCrazy blitzes.Carnal burstsQuenched thirst. From page 7 of my first book 'Rhythmic Hues,' published in 2014. 



'Tis not easy, when as far as you can see, you see your needs and desires falter through dark skies of June; weeds- they spread through Nimbus patches of sorrow, pasted on a black canvas; your hopes fail to soar upon rhombus kites and you see yourself finally nipped, slowly writhing as a defeatist.