In Moderation

A mango sunrise
is always a pleasant surprise.
It’s enough to keep me going
in this semi-chaotic life.

An amber tea afternoon
is what gets me through
my new normal
when tensions start to brew.

The whiskey-stained sunset
dulls the taste I want to forget.
Drinking and thinking
the day away
can be a philosophical addiction.

Spoonful of Stars

In a depthless bowl of night,
I dip into the Milky Way.
A spoonful of stars
can hold different things.

The taste of
hope—as a person,
dreams—of an unforeseen future,
wishes—only whispered at night, and
regret—trying to fill a voided life
come in all sorts of flavors.

Suppressing one’s appetite
can sometimes take a universe.

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
can see through
that person’s eyes.