A Poet's Audacity

Hey you,
are you mad?

... The audacity of him

to think he could,

in a matter of seconds,

turn life as it is

into words,

scribble it onto

the pad given to him

by life itself.

Pic: poetryfoundation.org

Summer Morning

The cold blanket

of haze
I saw in your eyes

has cleared,

replaced by a bright spark,

summer they call it...

But I christen it lust;

I love it

for the bright lights

make you bold;

relentless, stubborn,

annoyingly bold.

Pic credit: newsx.com

The Ear Pull

Then she pulled my left ear,
mother...
The chiding,
it is, I know,​

for leaving you,
for hiding in their city.

The bloodletting
reminds me of home,
of belonging,
of what I’ve grown up to be​,
a slave to the month
—telephone bills and 96 pages.