Tag Archives: Death

His Photograph

Every time I look at his photograph 
An album of memories—
Not in black and white, 
Full of colors, 
Full of joy—flashes like real 
Waves, it makes me feel alive. 
Every time I look at his photograph 
I remember his sunny or sullen face, 
His voice, 
His song 
But not his scent; for even 
A withered rose loses its own scent. 
Every time I look at his photograph 
I would hear my mom crying, 
Loud and sad. 
Full of emptiness, 
My heart desires to feel his presence. 
And every day I’m afraid for this to fade. 


Filed under Personal, Thoughts & Poems


Now, I never hear
the cicadas sing. Momma
would turn that radio on –
That’s her kind of silence.
No snores. No smell of liquor
in the room. No one
to call her dear.

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Filed under Love Poems, Personal

The Red Wolf

It was an odd and weird dream
I’ve never seen a wolf that close
With fiery eyes and direful howl
In the bloody woods I was lost

I tried to find my way out
But there’s only one route to go
Where you could hear the wolf’s footfall,
Seeing dancing shrubs in a row

I mooned at the bloody woods
And reveled in the quiet
I had seen no one but myself,
Needing a company as yet

It was a recurring dream
That drowned me like a deep gulf
Staring at my reflection,
I knew it’s me who killed the wolf.

red wolf

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Filed under Thoughts & Poems