A friend I met once, introduced me
To sunsets. The orange glow of the day Star as it makes its grand exit. It often
Paints the skies a colour only the spirit
Can comprehend.

You see like Christ its descend only
Means it will rise again, to give light
And to give hope where darkness has
Fallen. When the skies behold the sun
Or the Son, they cannot help but glow
In reflection of his shine, prime
Gleams and glimpses of heaven. The
Skies display a myriaded map no
Compass whether moral or cardinal,
Could ever direct a way into my father’s
Golden street Isles. Only Grace will
Carve that path before our sinful eyes.

So behold, behold my sunset, though
Darkness knocks at my door. She
Comes girded with a promise about
Her neck called; Tomorrow.



I am not sad, no! My face
Sometimes speaks in tongues.
Especially when emotions
Sing my soul spiritual melodies
Of memories too sweet. Too
Sweet reminiscents long gone
Past too swift.

I think about you sometimes,
When time sums up all those
Adventures we ventured into
Post our asian conjuncture,
Post those meetings at Sarah’s
For dinners and luncheons.

I remembered the taste of your
Scent when it leapt to a great
Descend each time the corner
Of your eye crept into focus in
My direction and caught mine

Gestures and mannerisms
Acquired a mind of their own,
When the sound of your touch
Hugged my skin. You planted
Goosebumps onto me and
Harboured butterflies in
The aura of my spleen’s kin.

I am Sorry…

In my wonder’s wander
I discovered a thought.
A thought that uncovered
More thoughts like:
How permanent was the
Ink that I stained you with?
How deep did it seep and
Permeate your heart and
Dirty the purity of the love,
With which you embraced

I had always thought about
The nice times we shared,
But only ’til now, have I strode
Past the avenue of what was
In a pair of shoes you must
Have worn since my abrupt
And unexplained departure.

So I am sorry!

I am sorry I polluted the one
Well of fresh waters that
Served my need and quenched
My soul of moonless and
Starless nights. I’m sorry for
Painting our skies a horrid
Gloom of grey, for flashing
Blinding and quacking coy
Ozonal lights that shattered
Our love. I am sorry for the
Spilt serene waters into which
we spoke our aspirations and

I am sorry, for extinguishing
Such a fierce and hot fire we
So reverently cuddled next to.
I am sorry for untying the knot
We so passionately knit with
Much exquisite intricacy. But
Most of all, I am sorry I ever
Tainted the purity of your
Heart’s love. I’m sorry.

Stuck…But I Struck! 🌸

Stuck…But I Struck! 🌸

I’m stuck in anonymous.
I am a small plant unclaimed.
I am the red flower unembraced
I am, though, untamed…unnamed.
I am rooted in No man’s land.
I am indeed no man’s brand.
I am neither on the left or right hand.
I am a lion red petal maned…

I’ll be Norman…from no man’s land,
Between the two fences. But I struck
A cord in the artist’s eye.

Photo Credit: LKM The Pictor

Sense? 🌻

Dear Pen
Won’t you cling on to my fingers
And tango to all its swerves…

Dear Paper

Will you embrace my cursive and
Doodle the itches of my nerves…

Dear God

Receive the torn tears of my soul.
I cried them all out, even the reserves.


Dear Words…you do have any sense, just make sense to the seemingly senseless.

His Merciful Dues…

This heart is tricky, witty with
Words weaved to deceive,
Blocking my soul to receive,
The beautiful gift of your
Salvation. And even though I
Read sometimes, I read the
Scriptures hoping to see those
Pictures, captured by the Prophets
And Apostles, the stories they
Scripted inspired, by your spirit
Inside them.

But oft times we sit on cue, lining
On pews pondering upon these
Circular deeds we so often view
As less tedious than God’s, merciful dues.