Straying from a mystical world
I got trapped in the real world
Where creativity is suffocated
And beauty is sorely overlooked

Trying to find my space in the ether
Before my fleeting imagination sever
Hold my hand ye artisan of the unknown
And forever paint anew my fixed fr🙁wn
General, Poem


The earth witnessed his majestic,
Pace along the shimmering streets.
How his head-held high-swaggered,
In the night’s twinkle from the lights.

He had thick dark glasses that covered,
His tire from a life of hiding all of it.
His full health of a solid mass of weight,
Dizzied in the wake of that love of old.

It was scary what a smile could hide,
He plugged to his musical symphonies
But floating memories clouded his will,
As hope wrestled with fear & weakness.

He gave in to a new kind of love,
Thus he ceased smiling with his heart.
Letting go of his longstay defiance,
The lengthy strain left him to give way.


Sensational Scintilla

Between two sighs, I savoured,
Bliss from the ocean’s sound.
I saw the songbirds of the air,
Flapping away from my stare.

I Caught wind of the carnation, Their scent a crystal revelation.
Afar was a crashing waterfall,
Singing hymns upon its mighty fall.

I scrambled for my notebook,
And my pen savored the look.
My book drank from the ink,
As my eyes acted as the link.

That’s when I recalled the sky,
Painted the greatest art-oh my!
I gave in to the reverie and my
Soul wandered to heaven-sigh!

Indeed God wrote the best poetry, When fauna and flora gained entry.
In such a desolate place-excellence, Described better by his eminence.

In great aims and in small, our God, Was thoroughly earnest as our Lord. The sky blue waters,the constellation, The setting sun, the moonlit horizon.

All attesting to his love & splendour, Look at our bodies-so full of wonder.
The rich air swept to break the daze, But I arose anew & followed the haze.


Poetic Justice

With a paintbrush and quill,
Poets and artists imprinted,
Their naked souls and still,
Bled in the pages unread.

With every life they touched,
The world suddenly became,
As transformed lives danced,
Old dreams no longer tame.

Now the world knows peace,
As love’s secrets find a way,
Into hearts- now one piece,
As mediocrity soon gave way.


Do you believe in promises?

Faded is the dream that once was,

The hallmark of a schooled fella.

The lion of the jungle promised,

Better days, so to the bone I worked.

Still waiting for the fruits to be borne.

I walk in the streets with credentials,

Knocking on the doors of opportunity,

Moving county to county like a trader,

Only to return home empty handed.

Still waiting for the fruits to be borne.

Enlightenment I got with a heavy heart,

That waiting is for dreamers of the day.

I was just a pawn in the game of chess,

Waiting to be moved in the lion’s favor.

Ceased waiting for the fruits to be borne

Even so, I still curse in the shadows,

Hoping that these cries will suffice.

We still call upon the gods above,

To remind him that Karma is real.

Ceased waiting for the fruits to be borne

Which promise has your government not fulfilled?




For you-yes you awesome soul.


Even if you’re alone totally,

Feel the calmness- wholly,

Of this night knowing that you matter.

Like a child youre my before not after,

Hence admire my daddy-care forever,

And may a nightingale endeavour,

To swing by your open window,

And lull you to dive deep-as pillow,

Thoughts-warm ones-reign supreme,

Not to bug but add spice in extreme,

Measures till your comfort overflows,

As the Angel’s watch-that never bows,

Out, cajole your ethereal dreams as,

The ever bright morning awaits us.





Hidden Soul

In the morning breeze,
I caught her hiding,
Behind a beautiful mask,
Gazing with her misty eyes.


I tried to savor the sight,
Of her ocean blue eyes,
But her hair clouded the view,
Leaving me utterly confused.


Upon closing my eyes,
She opened up her soul,
It smiled as she wondered,
how someone finally saw!


She was dazzlingly beautiful, 
but beauty was the least of her.

Poetry Simply-fried

He took a bite out of the crisp writings,
That were woven on the ancient fabric.
This is no metaphor-just mere writings,
with no powerful effects such as metric.
He wallowed in the depths of the secrets,
Included therein-in black and white-bliss.
Like a judge, his taste buds now sleepless,
Stood as roused curiosity feigned remiss.
His life took a spin in the new world found,
As darkness paved way to the new obsession.
That night he vowed to never lack a profound,
Way to view the world that lacked perfection.

Inspired by Gottfried