Posted in Untold Stories

Him

Thoughts Of A Nyctophilliac

Eyes like the devil

I knew would destroy me

Voice like velvet

I knew would make me slip

Hair a jumbled mess

Don’t know if I am blessed

An innocent look that lurks

Almost hid the devilish smirk

Rugged beard

Tough to tame

Was his heart

Too tough to claim?

Glasses covered his eyes

But nothing was hidden

Could he look into my soul

Like I could unbidden?

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Posted in Poetry

In A Foreign Land

Unknown city

Unknown land

Time moves fast

At an unknown pace.

White rooms

Have slanting roofs

Tall towers

To look over what’s ours.

Leaves turn brown

The rain comes down

The old stone still stands

Pride and honour of this land.

The night never sleeps

Streets never end

Forever alive

This foreign land.

Thoughts Of A Nyctophilliac

Unknown city

Unknown place

Time moves fast

At an unknown pace.

White rooms

Have slanting roofs

Tall towers

To look over what’s ours.

Leaves turn brown

The rain comes down

The old stone still stands

Pride and honour of this land.

The night never sleeps

Streets never end

Forever alive

This foreign land.

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Posted in Poetry, Untold Stories

Writer

He is a writer

With words bleeding from his fingers

With storms raging in his mind

In the calm of the night.

He’s got demons chasing him

In the day and in the night

When nightmares clog his eyes

He might as well write.

How should I bear it?

He asks with all his might

Tired with the burden

He stops for a while.

He searches literary arcs

In the demons and storms

In the calm of the night

He might as well write.