Sunday, April 28, 2013


Empty bucket -
Silver paint bits flake off the rim
The handle rusts,
It sits in in dust
Waiting to be filled.

It is old -
it has no holes
though the walls wear thin.
Dull and still -
The breathless object
Keeps air within its well.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


I write more poetry
I keep it to myself
Privacy -
Words no one ought to see.

Friday, April 19, 2013


Don't let the pause go on
for too long -
Turning blue
under the name of patience
Peel back the hues,
just before the grey --
A shiver of a colour,
I once knew before
returns to my cheeks
and I feel the warmth.