The Awakening

Is it possible?

 

Is it possible to look up to a man who's short,

Or maybe even look down on a man who's tall?

Can a blind man ever be able to see the truth,

Or a man with perfect vision be blinded by love?

If a paralyzed man can walk in someone else's shoes,

Why can't I ever be able to walk into your life?

What if an illiterate man could read between the lines,

Would a literate one, ever be able to read my mind?

 

Is it possible for a bald man to let his hair down,

Or to go the distance without moving a single inch?

Can a man standing fall in love without hitting the ground,

While a man who is sitting down be able to stand tall?

Is it possible to be in front yet still left behind,

Or be left behind and still be a head of everyone else?

To many people this might all be indeed unquestionable,

But I on the other hand have to ask is it possible?

 

 

 

 

 

 

My beliefs

 

If time shall stop and clocks tick for nothing,

Without a shadow of a doubt I could believe it.

 

In the future love and hate will be best friends,

Certainly you should know that I could believe it.

 

Loud silence will pierce the ears of all the deaf,

And yes for sure you know that I could believe it.

 

All the stars will cease to twinkle late at night,

And there are many reason why I could believe it.

 

Gravity will at long last bring down the open skies,

Everyone by now should know that I could believe it.

 

Love and affection will be banished from this world,

Maybe it's wise to say that only I could believe it.

 

Yet if you leave me all alone to be consumed by grief,

I would never believe it at least that is my belief.

 

 

 

My confession

 

Is it just creative writing with a rhyming verse

To many of us it may seem so at first

 

Or is it the beauty of expression in all it's glamour

Not just some ordinary novel or drama

 

Maybe it's a love affair  with touching thoughts of the mind

That all poets can express line by line

 

Could it be inspiring words written with true passion

Or a written art done with unrehearsed compassion

 

Yet to me it's the friend that I can always turn to

Especially when I don't know what to say or do

 

Even when I'm so confused and can't even think

I always find it easy to liberate my thoughts in ink

 

For all of these reasons this has got to be

My confession of what poetry means to me

 

 

I wish

That rain drops

Were tear drops

And only clouds

Would cry

I wish

That pain

Was something

Only windows

Would have

I wish

That being

Blue

Was only a colour

And not a feeling

I wish

That there

Was no end

But there is

So here it is.