When I shall end my days on this earth,
hold fast to dreams
for if dreams die.
The soul, denies its divine heritage in life
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go away,
the silent world of shadows is coming.
And if the Roads are blocked and Barbed wire rampant everywhere,
hold fast to dreams,
dreams are the mystics messengers of freedom that come within our heart and call us in secret,
A soul rose on this earth and walked its chosen path to fill her hands with morning songs.


i’m looking for the face i had before the world was made
I was the primordial flaring forth, the gravitational waves,
the whirling galaxies, and the exploding supernovas that would become stars and planets.
I was the steaming planet Earth, the bacteria awash in the sea, and the early eukaryotes and multicellular animals.
I exploded in the Cambrian explosion, stumbled onto land, walked with dinosaurs,
saw trees and flowers appear, walked upright in Africa, and walked on the moon.

The Moon

The moon shone bright that night

Beautiful and full.
I can still picture it.
It was magical the way the light danced.
It swallowed every star in the sky
In its majestic glow.

Tonight, however, the moon is gone.
I don’t know where it went.
I wish it would come back
To light up the darkness like it once did
But wherever it’s gone, I hope it’s happier there.

Her Candle

Her Candle

So many candles I’ve never burned.
A marriage candle,
two first communion candles from my kids,
a bicentennial candle,
millennium candle.
So many candles I’ve never burned.

Her candle I’ve burned for over twenty years,
not every day, but most every day.
A memory of what once was,
of what we had
me and her,
her candle.
Originally voluptuously large,
beautifully ornate,
burning bright hot and fast.
We were young then. 

Absolute's End

Black and White –
Adamic domicile.
A black storm
Veiling blue sky.
Thin ray
Cast from persistent
Sun steadily
Status quo and
Dubious good.
With sunlight
Upon crystalline
Rainbow backdrops
A dove fleeing
Noah’s flood with
Olive branch
Ushering in
An inclusive
Love and a
Greater good.

What I Feel Inside

Even though everything seem fine
Deep inside it is not fine
Happiness when are you going to be mine
Sadness why do you always strike my mind
Whenever I smile
in a next minute you show up
And make me feel like soil on the ground
Few can see am the origin and I get washed away
Love behaviours like the blink of an eye
It never stays for too long
Which is like 1+1=4 which just wrong
Happiness can I catch with this prong
Without you am not strong
In my heart is where you belong

april 17 to 19 poems

Saturday April 17

You are my Lode Star

in the morning dawning light
you are always there
you are my lode star
my sunshine, my moonshine
the love of my life, my wife
with your endless love
I will face the evil corrupted world
even walk through the shadow of death
as long as you by my side
I will fear no evil for you are with me
and I will love you
until death takes me
from your your loving embrace

another Nigerian spam found poem

April 13 to April 15 poems

April 13 Poems

I believe in ghosts

I used to not believe
in ghosts or spirits
or supernatural phenomenon

at least
i used to be
quite skeptical

but I have had
some weird encounters
over the years

so now perhaps
I do believe
that ghosts might be real

I have had supernatural
things that defy my understanding

back in 1992
My Korean Uncle-in-law died
and the family hired a shaman

did a traditional shaman ritual
the shaman came out
a middle age woman

cosmos's april12 poems

today's poems (april 12)

April 12, 2020

Life spinning out of control

it seems these days
that life is spinning out of control
everyday the news is grim
more people are dying
as the virus spreads out of control

but in these days
where everything seeks
to be beyond our control

it is best to remember
to worry about
those things
one can control

and the rest
will take care
of it self

you can only control
and your emotions

Lighten my life

Sadness, despair, depression, madness
Are the words that entrap my mind when looking at the bland brown house.
The one house with all grey walls.
The one with the single tan car going back and fourth.
The one where even when we exited our drought, no bright flowers began to sprout.
The one that belongs to a dear Ms. Sky.


Subscribe to RSS - love