Photo by: Sam Lim
 Some questions I might ask a passing ghost..
Ghost
When do you know you’re a ghost?Is there a cold that touches tips of toes? When death feels oddly like life,How do you know?Is it when you try to bleed,liquid rust comes out from a body weakened to death by tears,Is that how you know? Do you make friends with smoke and mist?Is there a ceremony on the day of death, a party to celebrate a life gonewith others that have passed on? The eyes of people who lookedon you with affectionare now blank. Is it the realization that you areas unnoticed in this world as the air? When, oh when, my dear departed frienddo you know you’re a ghost?

Photo by: Sam Lim

Some questions I might ask a passing ghost..

Ghost

When do you know you’re a ghost?
Is there a cold that touches tips of toes?
When death feels oddly like life,
How do you know?
Is it when you try to bleed,
liquid rust comes out
from a body weakened to death by tears,
Is that how you know?
Do you make friends with smoke and mist?
Is there a ceremony on the day of death,
a party to celebrate a life gone
with others that have passed on?
The eyes of people who looked
on you with affection
are now blank.
Is it the realization that you are
as unnoticed in this world
as the air?
When, oh when,
my dear departed friend
do you know you’re a ghost?

ghost art artwork long exposure blog poetry freeverse horror

The flower stood there all aloneSingle, solitary, on its throneNot another could pass its beautyIts flaming colors were not matchedBy butterfly, bird, or any of its own.Then its prettiness enflamedBrought it to the streets of paved.Then enraptured by its colors,The people brought it to their kin,Increasing the deadliness of their sin.The flower stood there all alone,And shriveled into powers unknown.

The flower stood there all alone
Single, solitary, on its throne
Not another could pass its beauty
Its flaming colors were not matched
By butterfly, bird, or any of its own.
Then its prettiness enflamed
Brought it to the streets of paved.
Then enraptured by its colors,
The people brought it to their kin,
Increasing the deadliness of their sin.
The flower stood there all alone,
And shriveled into powers unknown.

flower poetry still life artwork

Middle Of The Road
I will make my own path in life,or follow the one less travelled by,for that is where the adventure lie,for what’s down there is hard to tell,and curiosity is my compass.

Middle Of The Road

I will make my own path in life,
or follow the one less travelled by,
for that is where the adventure lie,
for what’s down there is hard to tell,
and curiosity is my compass.

droids poetry polaroid road artwork

Simple Joys
Ascending into my eyesIt took me a life to realizeAll the pain I had inflictedAll my past shadows will soon be depictedI guess there’s no easy way to say thisBut my life might just be a total missI’m going to learn how to swallow my painI’m going to learn how to swallow my shameI’m a prisoner of my own deviceAnd for too long, I’ve been rolling the diceIt’s time I give the world a chanceAnd for once step down from a powerful stanceFor too long I have used the human race as a toyIt’s time for once I spread the joy

Simple Joys

Ascending into my eyes
It took me a life to realize
All the pain I had inflicted
All my past shadows will soon be depicted
I guess there’s no easy way to say this
But my life might just be a total miss
I’m going to learn how to swallow my pain
I’m going to learn how to swallow my shame
I’m a prisoner of my own device
And for too long, I’ve been rolling the dice
It’s time I give the world a chance
And for once step down from a powerful stance
For too long I have used the human race as a toy
It’s time for once I spread the joy

Polaroid droids photography poetry simple joys artwork

My Window
Drip-drop are they raindrops singing,drip-drop on the roof and sill,tears of water, cruel endings,rain falls down and I’m here…still. 

My Window

Drip-drop are they raindrops singing,
drip-drop on the roof and sill,
tears of water, cruel endings,
rain falls down and I’m here…still. 

my window poetry artwork

far away, where all is night,stars dance the sky above.there awaits a flower white,as that of a dove.and angels watch, from afar,up in their heavenly tower.they look upon this perfect star,my very own white flower.

far away, where all is night,
stars dance the sky above.
there awaits a flower white,
as that of a dove.

and angels watch, from afar,
up in their heavenly tower.
they look upon this perfect star,
my very own white flower.

macro photography photography poetry artwork

'normal' does not equal good

When you must walk away from here
Want to throw everything aside
Leave everyone alone
Just run from them, and hide

But you can’t really do that,
Maybe because the world is round
You can’t just walk another step
You can’t fall from the ground

Some will try to kill themselves
Others will try another way
But you know better than all of them
It’s just another normal day

landscape photography poetry artwork

cemetery sunset

have you ever had that feeling that someone’s there with you even though they’ve died?

I watched the day fade into night
The moon rose up and shown so bright
The grass whispered in the wind
As you reached to grab my hand
I will remember that cold, sweet feeling
That faded with you as I stayed kneeling

landscape photography poetry artwork