Running after money,

running after name,

running after fame,

running after this,

running after that.

Why can't they just walk?

If you have a broken heart,

you try to collect the pieces

and fix them together,

hoping it will heal someday,

hoping you will find yourself again.

But

when the hammer of hate

crushes your heart like a rock,

turning it into grains of sand,

and the wind of mistrust

scatters it all around—

how do you collect yourself?

How can you try and fix yourself?

Can you ever be whole again?

A friend asked me
how to write poems
that would reach people's heart.

I replied," Open the floodgates
of your emotions and let it flow.
Your poems will touch
every heart."

"Move on," you said.
How? You forgot to tell.

"Forget the past," you said,
as if it were possible.

I watch the world go by,
yet still I stand
where I was left.

How do I move on
when the mind is clouded
and the heart
has gone silent?

Perhaps try to do
the next best thing —

to be there for someone,
to spread a smile,
to lend a helping hand,
to be a friend
in need.

Lisa was very smart,
always checks
the weather forecast
before going out.

Over breakfast,
she turned on the radio
to listen to the Monday’s forecast:

“Heavy to very heavy rain,
with thunder and lightning.”

She smiled,
“oh, thank you!”
left her umbrella,
put on sunglasses,
and went to work.

Questioning myself —

what becomes of all the

dreams that remained

unfulfilled?

Poets come.

Poets go.

Poems remain—

left behind for someone

to read,

to admire,

and

to inspire

the next generation

to pick up the pen.

Clouds of pain

cover the wounds

of the heart.

Innocent tears fall

like gentle drops

of rain.

I miss you everyday

but

I miss myself more.