Closing my eyes

When I’ve closed my eyes,
I saw and felt parts of my life.
Times where I’ve cried
having told an honest lie.
Smiling at my reflection—
believing in my own deception.
And being so demanding
for the world to notice me.

Now,
when I close my eyes,
the fragments are nowhere in sight.
I still cry—
reasons may vary as to why.
My smile’s genuine.
I can share my inner reflection.
No longer demanding,
I’ve grown to be understanding.
The world to me
is what I choose to notice
even if it were a dream.


 

Why, Poetry?

Like a vintage love letter,
so fragile to open,
admire its beauty for what it is.

As you read,
use your voice first.
How and why does it
relate to you?
Then instinct takes over,
What was the Poet trying to say?


Poetry written
is a soul encased in a locked box
of words and those who understand
it,
can see through
that person’s eyes.