Monday, February 29, 2016

#APoemADay Project

They say the world is round
I say mine is in the shape of you
I will keep chasing horizons
Until I find you at the end of it
Because I know
No sunset is as beautiful
No sunrise as comforting
As the ones I will spend with you

I believe in love
That’s why I refuse to accept anything else

Ending this #APoemADay project with this one. I have been writing poems since I was 14, or maybe younger. I did this exercise because I wanted to try out writing poems for the sake of writing. After writing a poem each day for several days, I discovered that I can actually write without drawing from a specific real life experience, and  that I can paint a picture with words that seemed real. So I enjoyed waking up everyday excited to find out what poem was waiting to be written.

About two weeks into it I realized, all my poems came from a single experience.No matter how many different ways I write them, they all tell the same story.  

Sara Kay, my favourite spoken word artist mentioned about Paul Valery in one of her poems and she quoted him saying “A poem is never finished, only abandoned.” And without hesitation, I agree.

I wish you were a poem
You would have been easier to walk away from.

p.s. I have only written 14 poems, only half of my target with was 29 ( one for each day of the month).

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Friday, February 5, 2016

Thursday, February 4, 2016


So I told you about him
And how he made me feel
And I told you
How enchanting it was
To be wanted

But under that tree
Where books and battles
Were littered around us
I paused to tell myself
This here
Is what I needed


photo from "The Mirror Has Two Faces"

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

The Problem with Me

It is not what you said
But how it made me feel
That alarms me
Not your words
But what they may mean
That bothers me

I wish I believed in impossibility
Lines would just be statements
And words just words.

But I am a poet
And impossibility
Is never part of my vocabulary


Monday, February 1, 2016


“There’ll be days like this”
I hear myself repeating
Like a pledge, or a line
From a broken song
Whose beginning and end I could not
Unlike our story
Whose beginning I can paint like a picture
And our end like a bleeding poem
But everything in between
I could not