•April 6, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Love is a feeling

Ever present in my heart

Yet so alien



The art of writing is the…

•April 5, 2012 • Leave a Comment

The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
— Gustave Flaubert

Hopeful Angel

•April 5, 2012 • Leave a Comment

This is NOT my work, but the work of a fellow navel-gazing man who has allowed me to publish it.


How should I compare thee?

Beautiful beyond anything?

Personality that would befriend anyone?

Or someone that makes me want to curl up and die

When I think of you?

I hurt you once before and you forgave me

You are willing to speak with me,

You even said I love you to me,

How I really want that to be true.

At times it seems that you don’t want me in your life.

How you toy with me!

Heart-aching emotions, thoughts of false hope you just do not understand.

I have the power to make you happy.

Actual happiness, love that will bind us as we both share that virgin kiss on each others lips.

Holding you in my embrace, your head resting on my shoulder as I stand guard to you.


Forever and a day.

Knowing that I would destroy anything that tried to harm you;

What are the chances of us?

How I struggle day to day,

And I laugh as you toy with me and I enjoy your attention.

I try to ignore you but you have already enthralled me.

How can I move on, not knowing how you truly feel?

In truth, I have nothing else left.

Teenage anxieties, adolescent tripe,

Young days that will be forgotten-

Not forgotten. No! Supporting the future, a future built on scars

For I have suffered too many scars,

And you, my angel, are the last hope in this depressing void known as life.

Memories that I just wish to forget.

But I need you;

A spark, a flare of hope in my life.

For what is a man without hope?

I dare not see for myself less it becomes to me.

Share your hope with me.

All I ever searched for was someone to be loyal to, ’till my dying day.

And I choose you,

To defend me from myself.



Sorry for the…

•April 5, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Sorry for the lul in posts but as everyone knows; its EXAM TIME!

So unfortunately my posts have been suspended for a bit!

Don’t be despondant however, because from time to time I WILL update…. or should.

But please in this lack of activity take time to spread the word!

I need all the help I can get! (more people means more pressure. More pressure means more poetry ^.^)



Fugue of Fancy

•March 27, 2012 • Leave a Comment

As the world revolves
And the flowers blossom,

A life halts for a nervous minute
While the curtains roll up.

The crowd falls silent, expectantly
Lights begin to dim.

Opening notes reverberate around
In waves of sound.

Passionate interpretation,
Of an emotive medium.

Awe-filled faces
Staring intently.

A rising crescendo
Marks the coda, so conventional.

Fluttering fugue of notes so melodic
Capturing hearts like that of a tonic.

Clear Skies

•March 13, 2012 • Leave a Comment

The idea of flying free as a bird

Through an endless expanse of beauty,

Where only the sky’s the limit

And endless possibilities

Float past like clouds,

Effervescent clouds of hope.

This idea is my eutopia:

A free world, with free word.


•March 13, 2012 • Leave a Comment

A busy foyer, filled with people

Grouped in stereotypical order.

The ordered chaos that haunts the world,

Like a reoccurring nightmare of seclusion.

Still I feel alone although I am encompassed,

Encompassed by friends and acquaintances.

Solitude felt by the absence of love is a feeling rather unfelt.

Even though I’m anesthetized the unrelenting pain,

Emanating from my heart rends me in half.


So continues the life of a half-heart;

Numbingly painful, monotonously solitary.

Day to day trials, seen in a new light,

Intrinsically saddening.

Each and every second, living in wonder,

Of what may come to pass.

No-one can tell the future,

But dreams illustrate fantasy.

A fantasy in my control,

Yet without the will to carry it out

Allows destiny to take its course.


No matter how many persons surround me

I still feel detached from society,

Until this gaping crevice is filled.


Thus is the life of a Half-Heart.

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