Thursday, 6 October 2016


Sometimes it's hard to find just the right words,

to structure a sentence that would become an epic verse.

A poem that could far justify the beauty of the universe,

a poem that would contain everything we ever learnt.

Sometimes we get writers block and it's difficult,

not being able to write away becomes extremely irritant.

And we doubt ourselves and think our gifts are limited,

when once upon a time this feeling was simply innocent.

I used to feel invincible with my rhymes but now I'm invisible,

but then I've always felt like a nobody, a soul so pitiful.

My existence was mythical and no one believed my poems were original,

How low I felt; heart imprisoned like a life serving criminal. 

Everyone used to doubt me, I couldn't get a sound out, see,

thus I couldn't defend myself and no one found out I was me.

Society judges you on exactly what you look like,

and define your abilities by what they see with their eyes.

So I wrote away, I wrote things I couldn't say,

and they rhymed and so my identity was made.

The world acknowledged my feelings in my own way,

and they realise that I am someone fighting his own fate.

Sometimes It begins with a message or two,

and they evolve into your blessings and truth.

Sometimes they in reality are the lessons you choose, 

let it become you and the very heavens you view.

Sometimes it starts off with a letter you read,

containing advice that it's better you speak.

Live your life and leave the rest of you to dream,

and record them so again they are memories to see.

Sometimes its an email or a text that you open,

a sincere wish from someone; the best that they're hoping.

It's still a message and in every breath and the moment,

united hearts with doors set to never be closing.

Messages. Meaningless to some but it's more than a word,

It's usually the poets that can see the truth of it's worth.

The definition, the context can be left to the literates,

this is something that is the ignition of our world.

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