Poetry

Ruins

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

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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. 

Poetry

Defeated

'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.