A sudden whisper
Of emotions
Left my body.

Its residue,
Is a smile.
On my cheeks.

It is only through written words
that I feel a silenced voice can have its own
projections and room to roam a space.
A minority’s opinions are ignored
and taken less to consideration because
of a majority’s desire to make their stand the right one.
So, where the world listens at their call
to 'maintain order and progress' in a society,
we the silent, the quiet, the compromised, will step forward
in writing to push the envelope and attempt a freedom,
one they cannot prevent. That is, the need to express our frustrations, our inner want for freedom and more importantly, a recognition
in the littlest of spaces – that of blank pieces of paper.

I like to bask in
the good memory and kiss
the bad one goodbye

hurts from afar
a spell
that draws me in
closer
more intense
more danger

Poetry is our love,
It enshrouds us from strange view.
Poetry is our potion,
It refuels our life anew!

Each stanza is a period,
That tells us its own message,
Each stanza separates,
But when united, is our beloved passage.

Every line a single sentiment,
They're arranged to tell and flow.
Every line when read altogether,
Makes the poem a beautiful whole.

Words are my portal,
That conveys from me to you.
Words are my conscience -
That spreads only the right rule.

The letters stringed together,
Each can still stand alone.
The letters squeeze together,
Like a humbled family I own.

do regular maintenance
on your soul
clean out the blemish
and the soot
soak it in solution

dust out the corners
of your mind
handle it with care
and buff the edges
caulk the cracks

polish the windows
of your heart
throw out the excess
and leave only the joy
furbish the frayed fringe

I witness the sentient waters
As they try to eschew the riverbank.
The elves that spring out, back and forth
Were the real salmon that are pitching the waterfall summit-
Guiding the current that playfully twists and bends
To make a curtesie of the water spirit.

The Wind, so angered by their defiance
Hurls a gust to correct the abnormality.
‘Twas her firm command that demands
Order in the river’s coyness and song –
Blowing with such force it pushed them
Back to where they’re supposed to belong.

“Rev up, my fellow elven spirits,
your time is nigh!” called the Mother,
Maternal to all the elvish imps.
Do not catch a breath, do not stagger in adversity!
Your time to come is nigh!” she whistled.
Her voluminous arms swept the elves right into the air,
Carrying them, rapt and far and high,
Like little dancing cradles her arms cheerfully sweep,
Each push got them higher to the deep blue sky.
The elven spirits cheer and wiggle, their joy was bright –
As they celebrate profusely as their freedom
Was lit well in the night!