Poet Name- Scarlet Keiller

I am feeling everything,
And I wish I couldn’t.
I want to go back to feeling nothing.

I want to go back to the monotonous months
Which had no colour
Or false hope of brighter days.
I don’t want false hope,
I just want to shut it all out again.

Maybe it would all be easier if it was that way.
Maybe we would all be happier if it was that way.

You Don’t Get To Be Upset

Poet Name- Scarlet Keiller

I try so hard to change myself,
Yet it isn’t enough for you.

You force me and push me,
Yet when I bleed, it’s too much for you.

I can’t do what you wish of me,
Yet that’s not satisfaction enough for you.

I want you to stop,
Is that too much to ask of you?

A Hopeless Romantic

Poet Name- Nessa dieR

I think I fall under the category of
The Hopeless Romantic
And the thing about about me,
The tricky thing of
hopeless romantics
Is that,
when I say hello to someone,
(And that hello is magical )
When I fall in love
I never Imagine that
That Hello can turn into a good bye
And when I have a first kiss with someone
I never ever imagine that someday
That could turn into a last kiss.

My own Clock

Poet Name- Nessa dieR

There’s a time and place for everything
A time to cry
A time to laugh
A time to love
A time to run away for a little while
With the someone you love.
I call this perfect timing
But I think now’s the time to realize
You never got the timing right .
You were random.
A clock with worn out batteries,
Or maybe you work counter-clockwise
I guess I’ll never know.

And I did.
But I realized something else too.
I realized i have never loved anyone,
As much as I love you.


Poet Name- Scarlet Keiller

I sit in the shade
On summer days
And wish I could reach the sunlight.

My days are grey,
And I dream of days
Where I wake up in that same light.

On those days,
I will jump out of bed
And be happy to look in the mirror.

I cannot lie,
I am looking forward
To those days where I will feel better.

There Is Beauty In Misery

Poet Name- Scarlet Keiller

They do not see her,
For she is the invisible one,
The one who fixes broken friendships
And is a shoulder for all sobbing hearts
But who nobody notices.
They do not see her,
For she is the invisible one,
The beauty that is found
Within misery itself.


Poet Name- Nessa dieR

Her feet are cold
Her head is warm
Why wasn’t He told?
Why did no one warn?

His love is dying
Deep, drowning pain
And there’s no point in trying
The tries would be in vain.

She waited for him
Who she dearly yearned
And when he was finally seen
She got nothing in return.

So she walked away
But his spell, oh so strong
Would make her walk his way
And believe nothing was wrong.

But this time she regrets
Standing under the rain
Protecting him from Bullets,
For this time they pierced her brain.

Bubble Armor

Poet Name- Nessa dieR

There’s a girl alone in her bedroom
Playing with the air
In the shadows of the moon
Although no one’s there.

Playing with her imagination
Afraid they might burst
Her bubble of protection
Keeping her from trust.

She doesn’t share treasures
Nor secrets as well
Nothing brings her greater pleasure
Than playing with herself.

Her universe is huge, more than the whole earth
But tell me darling, will it be like this until death?

Because girl, what might become of you,
Without dreams to follow?
What might help you stay at peace,
When you’re drowning in sorrow?
What might bring you back to love
When they burst your bubble?

Never fall in love with a poet

Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they’re a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you’re prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again.

He Is In Love

He is in love with questions
And the lilting world of words,
With the fabric of philosophy
And the taste of fresh ideas.

He is in love with the smell of green
And the shifting sands of dreams,
With the hunt for profound moments
And the hunger-lust for purpose.

He is in love with his books
And the zodiacs cross the planet,
With patterns of chain reactions
And the way we cog and gear.

He is in love with pools of stardust
And fanciful notions of theory,
With darkness, deep and coveted
And the fabric it is made from.

He is in love with one who left
And the poisoned past he bathes in,
With being perpetually lonesome
And floating twixt life’s sabulous banks.

He is in love with memories, and the universe,
And nobody else.

With my choking heart, I’m grasping at dust,
And I am in love with him.

To football players who take a knee :

To the NFL players who took a knee during the playing of the National Anthem.

So, you want to take a knee?

Take a trip to Valley Forge in January. Hold a musket ball in your fingers and imagine it piercing your flesh and breaking a bone or two. There won’t be a doctor or trainer to assist you until after the battle. Wait your turn while listening to the screams of pain from the wounded.
Then take a knee.

Go to Normandy where man after American man stormed the beach, dodging dead bodies and withering machine gun fire,…the very sea stained with American blood. Imagine that your fellow players are your dead brothers in arms.
Then take a knee.

Take a knee in the sweat soaked jungles of Vietnam.  Over 60,000 Americans died in those jungles.There was no playbook or million dollar contracts for doing your job, but they understood what our flag represented. When they came home, they were protested by their fellow Americans.
Then take a knee while they spit on you.

Take another knee in the blood drenched sands of Fallujah in 110 degree heat..Trade in your pads for a Kevlar helmet and battle dress…You’ll have to stay hydrated, but there won’t be anyone to squirt Gatorade into your mouth. And watch out for those IEDs when you take a knee.

There’s a lot of places to take a knee. Americans have given their lives all over the world. When you use the banner under which they fought as a source for your protest, you dishonor the memories of those who bled for the very freedoms you have. That’s what the red stripes mean. It represents the blood of those who spilled it defending your liberty.

So while you’re on your knee, pray for those that came before you, not on manicured fields striped and printed with numbers to announce every inch of game yardage…but on nameless hills and bloodied beaches and sweltering forests and bitter cold mountains…every inch marked by an American life lost serving that flag you protest.

No cheerleaders, no announcers, no coaches, no fans…just American men and women on the land, air, and sea, delivering the real fight against those who chose to harm us..so you would have the opportunity to dishonor their service by “taking a knee.”

You have no clue what it took to get you where you are…but your “protest” is duly noted. Not only is it disgraceful to a nation, it points to your ingratitude for those who chose to defend you under that banner that will still wave long after your stats and game jersey are forgotten…

If you really feel the need to take a knee, come with me to church on Sunday and we’ll both kneel before Almighty God. We’ll thank Him for preserving this country for as long as He has. We’ll beg forgiveness for both of our ingratitude for all He has provided us. We’ll appeal to Him for understanding and wisdom. We’ll pray for liberty and justice for all…because He is the one who provides those things.

But no protesting allowed. There will only be gratitude for His provision and a plea for His continued grace and mercy on the land of the free and the home of the brave.

May He  continue to bless America, the ignorant and selfish sinners we all are. What an incredible gift He has given us!

Dear Daddy

Do you know what these men say to me?

With their
eyes and their mouths
when I walk on the street.

With a grin and a nod
and a look up and down.
A wink and a kiss
and a cat call heard from downtown.

With my skirt short
and my top
It’s a cold world daddy
and no
doesn’t mean no.

Daddy do you know
how these men look at me?

Like I’m a piece of meat
strutting down the street?
With my head buds in
and my favorite song on.

I’m asking for it Daddy,
I’m in the wrong.

Do you know how it feels
not to wear what I like?

To walk a little faster
when I’m alone at night?

Daddy the world is my predator
and I am it’s doe,
Daddy what happens
when I can’t say no?

why did you go

why did you go
little fourpaws?
you forgot to shut
your big eyes.

where did you go?
like little kittens
are all the leaves
which open in the rain.

little kittens who
are called spring,
is what we stroke
maybe asleep?

do you know?or maybe did
something go away
ever so quietly
when we weren’t looking.

My Love

My love
thy hair is one kingdom
the king whereof is darkness
thy forehead is a flight of flowers

thy head is a quick forest
filled with sleeping birds
thy breasts are swarms of white bees
upon the bough of thy body
thy body to me is April
in whose armpits is the approach of spring

thy thighs are white horses yoked to a chariot
of kings
they are the striking of a good minstrel
between them is always a pleasant song

my love
thy head is a casket
of the cool jewel of thy mind
the hair of thy head is one warrior
innocent of defeat
thy hair upon thy shoulders is an army
with victory and with trumpets

thy legs are the trees of dreaming
whose fruit is the very eatage of forgetfulness

thy lips are satraps in scarlet
in whose kiss is the combinings of kings
thy wrists
are holy
which are the keepers of the keys of thy blood
thy feet upon thy ankles are flowers in vases
of silver

in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes

thy eyes are the betrayal
of bells comprehended through incense.

By EE Cummings

The Meaning of Love

Both light and shadow
are the dance of Love.

Love has no cause;
it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.

Lover and Loving are inseparable
and timeless.

Although I may try to describe Love
when I experience it I am speechless.

Although I may try to write about Love
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.

Every moment is made glorious
by the light of Love.

The Privileged Lovers

The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

Do You Love Me?

A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?

The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.

I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.

I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.

I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.

If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.

Love is the cure

Love is the cure,
for your pain will keep giving birth to more pain
until your eyes constantly exhale love
as effortlessly as your body yields its scent.”