I write poems whenever I feel like there is a story within me. It doesn’t matter if I’m at work or school or wherever, when I need to say something or tell something, I try my best to keep tabs of it in my failing memory. The photo is a perfect example of one of the ways of how I write poetry on-the-go. This one was written on a scratch paper during break at work. I think I wrote four poems on this page alone. No titles yet.
The three short poems here will be included in the next collection Euphoria. These are draft versions. I will most likely make random changes when (titling, length, punctuation, formatting, etc) as these are works in progress.
I.
the moon
speaks to me
its voice
a cold and
cackling wind
paints a scenery
of leaves dancing
on their toes
en pointe
to the lullabies
of a beating
heart
.
II.
Her skin is
mottled blue
they’re hickeys
born
of lipstick
stains from
stolen
kisses of
his two-by-fours
She wears it
around
though that
skin of
mottled blue
it is a coat
knitted
by his love
and fists
made
of petals
plucked
from cornflowers
grown from
his garden
woven
from cornflowers
tended on
her skin
sewn
from cornflowers
watered by
her tears
.
III.
Whilst combing
the thorny thicket
upon a
breast of roots
I lost myself
betrayed
by the brier
tongue
of my heart
so I turned
around
to find no one
but a faithless
shadow
bidding me
good riddance.
The Escritoire 