'Perfectly written isn't human, exact replicas aren't flawless and thinking you have to achieve them all is futile. Seek to write and create what deeply moves you and only then will the words and work you create feel perfectly flawless.' - Anastasia Bolinder
Before the morning sun appears, I'm awoke with poetry in my ears A sweet melody to awake all God's creatures, they seek rest neath the stars, twilights, best features, if chittering were lyrics, it would be a love song, the sliding horn sound is so moving, you'll want to sing along, it sings tirelessly each day for it has a cheerful heart, the sweet singing slows to a lullaby, as the twinkling stars impart, There perched, are singing Thrush, and they're calling it a day, stick around and watch the sunrise, and let's hear what they have to say
There comes a time When a poet must Let go, it is a Cold and crushing despair That tells him that The last love story Was told a thousand Years ago, and Unknowingly all he has Done is carry on the Legacy of those that Came before him But today is the day That he finally decides To bury the gift Of his ancestors.
It is a universal truth That the readers maketh A writer, but you must Know that every word I Pen is a fragment of My soul that I willingly Forsake, they are children Of a God that rarely Answers my prayers If I must kill characters That you have grown to Love, it is because they Must die, it is a decision I make without remorse But always with conscience.
Cerulean is my salvation It is a word I seek out Over and over again But all it has done Is led me down a Path bereft of redemption My eyes can still see In diagonal lines but They are clouded by A film of tunnel vision It must go, and it must go Tonight, because tonight I have faith that a new Path exists, but tomorrow I might find myself hurtling Towards a one way Ticket to perdition.
The moon , a poetic muse .... Nudged the quill , pleading it to spill , Some ink to sculpt , A masterpiece tonight . By weaving wonders , looking at the star spangled sky . And give him some rest , much needed respite .
A pair of eyes , Gazed deep into the Empyrean vast . Wondering in awe , As billion dots twinkled away . Suspended in the abyss , held by an unknown rein .
For once , the moon gave up its pride , For the sake of these luminous souls . That light up the night sky , Sitting right beside .
And thus , an ode was written , About the mystique and magic of a stars life . A sparkling ball of ethereal light , Burning slowly towards its ultimate demise .
A paradox , with a raging core And a halo soft . Living through million years , Hiding behind the day's curtain , Peeping out only when the night comes by .
And just as he thought , He was done for the night . A shooting star , with a blazing tail , Darting across , caught his eyes .
The splendor of the yonder , Beckoned him once again . As he sat with his quill , Ruminating about the shooting stars existence .
How wondrous he thought , that a piece of rock , Turned into a ball of fire and light . As it made its journey , Transcending from the space into earth's lap .
Each time a shooting star falls to ground , Hearts are crossed , wishes are made . Signifying renewal , a beginning afresh ...
I have been inactive for months as I was going through bad times battling with my demons.Many of you were concerned and I am so grateful to have received such care as I came back. I was also not able to respond to the ones who have tagged me in their write ups and so for that please accept my deepest apology. I was unwell, I was broken.