Does ones job defines one’s identity? Does it make us who we are? I read in a book, a conversation between a son and his father. His father was brave ever since he was young. He once rescued his whole family from a fire. He was only 18. His son is a handyman at an… Continue reading Does a job define who we are?
Wake up late Stay in bed Curled in sheets Sunshine sweep in Carelessly Make breakfast Melt butter And fry an egg Brew coffee And let it sink Lay after Read a book Write a poem Draw faces Of familiar souls Swept away, times ago Wear your dress Ride your bike Go to the beach And… Continue reading Day off
She said she’ll stay Holding your palms Within her embrace She said she’ll stay To be with you For you were lost She said she’ll stay Embracing your errors and failures She said she’ll stay Shedding away her dreams and desire She said she’ll stay For that what meant to be a wife A mother
What makes a writer? Is it a degree in creative writing or literature? Is it publishing a book? Being a writer in a famous magazine or newspaper? Is writing for oneself make you eligible for this title? Does having people approval and nods makes you one? I don’t hold a degree, nor have I published… Continue reading What makes a writer?
Doors and windows Willows and roses I walk around Selfless and sound Here I am, thinking of you Of unnamed thoughts Timeless bound I lay curled On bed of thoughts Remembering The voice of your eyes The touch of your soul As years fold I mutter the words To taste your name To live again
Two months ago I turned twenty five. A quarter of a century. Since I’ve turned my pages to 2018, reflecting on my life have become something I avoid. One reason is that reflecting make me acknowledge the mental mess that I am in. However, nevertheless, comparing myself now to my twenty four year old self,… Continue reading A late post: twenty five
In a far away land Where love falls like petals Blossoms bloom like a dream