The Contemporary Sculptor

The mother sees herself
as an artist who bred
life-sized sculptures.

They are all grown up,
yet she remains possessive,
binding them to be eternally grateful to her,
as if she was a goddess
who chose to bless them every day.

Obliged they are
day by day,
to appear happy,
to portray that sense of beauty and magic
that the artist tried to convey.

However, times come
that this feeling is not true,
and the ingenuity of the smile
creates a dichotomy
between the self and the sculpture.

An abyss is created,
separating the two realms,
sending off the self completely into oblivion,
so that the statue remains
with a loss of identity.

One of the three sculptures
managed to break the curse,
and instead of having his spirit crushed,
the son emerged as the victor,
demolishing the materialistic exterior.

Now the mother is broken,
baffled at how she could not remain
as the sculptor forever.

She could not grasp the fact,
that she had imprisoned her own children
into their own suffocation.

As they breathe,
she drowns,
into an ocean of guilt,
blaming herself
for all the scars
that they had
underneath.

 

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My Poetry Collection can be found on The A to Z of You and Me

 

Your Last Words

You are long gone and
I am left in a barren desert
accompanied by distorted memories

and I know it is unjust
that I can only remember
those few words
even if they were not
your last words.

They resonate within me
as if my mind was a hollow cave
which echoes of a pup’s anguished howl,
and I do not blame you
for speaking that way.

I can only recall that one scene –
you told me to cut off
my luscious hair
because it was too long for a boy,
because “You look like a sissy”.

Deep within
I try to assert myself
that it would not matter if
I had told you I was gay

I attempt to rationalise
to insist,
you sought to protect me
from words of bullies in the form of
emasculation in an all-boys school.

My uncertainty is an unquenchable thirst,
a repetitive investigation of
the purpose behind those few words,
and I did not get the chance to tell you
the way I felt
or the way I am

because you were gone way too soon
and all I have left is memories
that I try to reconstruct
to avoid deconsecrating
your image I hold dearly –
a woman remarkably graceful and kind.

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One is able to find out more information about my poetry collection here: The A to Z of You and Me

Bound To Loyalty

Like a dog on a tight leash
bound to its master,
I have spun around the tiny room
that I am constrained to.

Only now I have realised
that I have been chained,
after seeing you paralysed
when you got coiled
by the leash you put around my neck.

I wonder to myself
how this happened to be.

You cannot bear
a day without my presence,
and like a devoted dog
I feel blessed that you dread
the idea of losing me.

Feel assured when I say,
I recognise your scent from miles away.
If either of us ever got lost
in a sea of crowds,
I promise to follow the trail
until I am by your side again.

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If you liked this poem,
feel free to check out info
about my poetry collection

The A to Z of You and Me

Victim of War

I was once just a little boy
innocent and of pure intentions.

Only difference between me and angel
where the lack of fancy wings and halo.

Until the war came along –
I heard loud bangs on the closet.

The door cracked and I could see
a replicated me on the inside.

A never ending fight of who is the one
to control my behaviours.

The little boy tried to chain
those things that made me gay.

But the gay guy in me got fed up
of being tortured and abused.

A force beyond spirituality broke the chains
and the boy got stabbed in his puny heart.

The guy in the closet won
convinced that he would be forever free.

Yet, everyday he is haunted
by the guilt of the murder scene.

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Check out my poetry book The A to Z of You and Me

 

Birds

Feathers
free-falling
from far above.

Birds
blazing through
the blowing winds.

Chirping
collectively in a continuous
melodic harmony.

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Our ears enjoy their pleasant tunes,
our eyes astounded by their colours
our bodies tickled with their soft touch.

Birds are creatures from heaven
throughout species they are alike
yet we only protect and love
the ones that we find attractive.

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If you liked this poem, go check out My Book.

Spring’s Bloom

Hibernation is ending,
everyone is waking up
from the harsh cold.

A flower comes to bloom,
flashing its bright colours
as if it was on the cover of Vogue Flowers.

Eyes starving from a dead winter
are taken into an epileptic fantasy,
a psychedelic trip
bombed by long-forgotten hues.

Celebrations are due,
rules and norms are forgotten
promises broken.

Become crazy,
hop around and breed –
the spirit of Easter Bunny
has possessed our empty souls.

Spread more seeds
let Spring be vivid
to leave you in a nostalgic psychosis
once all that graceful beauty
withers away.

 

Go check out The A to Z of You and Me, a collection of 26 poems.

 

The One Reason

He is the muse behind each of my poems,
the ink that I write with.

He is the music that my feet dance to
the air I breathe into,
the pillow that I read my head on.

In each of his smiles
I see his bright white teeth
and I feel warm inside.

With simple deeds and noble intentions
he shows his love towards me.

When I hear his voice
every cell in my body flies in excitement
seduced by Aphrodite.

He is the reason why

I am the man that I am today;
I try to be better than I used to be yesterday;
I will wake up smiling tomorrow.

 

P.S.  My poetry book The A to Z of You and Me is out now, and can be bought from Amazon or Barnes and Noble. It is a 26 poem collection themed upon love and my relationship. Thank you for your support.

Winter Blues

Alone in my room
I got those ugly winter blues,
hail scratching the window
trying to break in.

Frozen solid, I lay under the blankets,
I close my eyes to see you again.

You invade my head in my sleep,
I feel you holding me
in your warm big arms.

You keep playing these games on me
making me desire you,
I hear your raspy voice by my side
and I open my eyes.

All by myself,
wishing you were here with me
to wash the blues away.

Hero

I have been the vulnerable one,
a delicate flower of gentle nature
living by small amounts of water.

Feeling safe when you hold me in your arms,
you feel strong and important
precious like the last guard of a secret chamber.

Yesterday you were crying to be saved,
desperate in vulnerability.

I stood up and saved you,
became your hero even though
it is not a role that I am used to.

Now I wonder if I can ever go back
to being held delicately in your arms
as if you were the hero all along.