My Taste For Rain Has Changed (Poetry)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWyNhUrLKVI WORDS (My Taste For Rain Has Changed): my taste for rain has changedI no longer cry storms.my taste for thunder begun,when my feet vowed to return. my taste for rain on arid soil,the dawn begunand with the weather I was overi vowed my storm will return. Under the faint sky,my taste for rain evolved.Grew … Continue reading My Taste For Rain Has Changed (Poetry)

Ask (Poetry)

WORDS: she asks herself and asks again. as her voice breaks like floral porcelains, she picks up the pieces. it hurts, it takes time. for the little pieces perforates and sinks into the hands like the painful memories. there she pulls the shards and plaster the wound. silence reminds her that she has been here … Continue reading Ask (Poetry)

Shame (Poetry)

  WORDS: a shame is coming, lurking over the horizon. it hisses, coughs and laughs.wanting its presence known. brewing in hatred for reputation refusing to revere character. on its arrival they tried to fleebillowing into the distanceswallowing galls of mistakespreceding this life was fullan opportune to live recklessly laughing not crying yetflashbacks strike like lighteningand … Continue reading Shame (Poetry)

Lesson From A Paper Crane (Poetry)

  WORDS:Examine the flailing weeks fold itself like paper;as it cuts the days, tucks in the minutes and creases the seconds.cocooning into an origami of the things it strives fortill it calls into the calmest crane.forgetting a thousand cranes brings luckbut this one is troubled; creased by a thousandyet it doesn’t sink in its despondencebut … Continue reading Lesson From A Paper Crane (Poetry)

Injustice (Poetry)

WORDS: vacuum darkens the mind. with the skin pleading against the light, there the sears of charcoalsinge the barren skin and kerosene swimsinto the blisters. the scratch of the match becomes,the last melody she hears.ashes to ashes, death whiplashes and the final breath rises with the smoke. the husks of the burning bodydiscardedunder the stellar … Continue reading Injustice (Poetry)

The Heron Across The Black Lake (Poetry)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GpDt_-CObQ i. my word is a heron trying to swallow its fishbut the bare bones spike against the bitter bills. across the hill over the black lake drowns the words that i cannot say. ii. so i find solace in echoes of the skybut do not seek the lineage callfor the clouds swallow softlywhen they … Continue reading The Heron Across The Black Lake (Poetry)

3 AM (Poetry)

WORDS: at 3.am the news wades on the white Calla- lily porcheach held breath praysprobing for the serenity of the things that yesterday cannot change. the opulent ivory door laments for the two pulsating hearts denying rational thoughts as silence slays the hopeof going back to sleep whole. no longer wadingits presence satiates the room … Continue reading 3 AM (Poetry)

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Four: A Land of Honey and Milk by Hannah Williams

a silhouette shawled in titanium with footsteps soft as silk. a graceless poise pierces the back promising a land of honey and milk a shadow tattered in light with sight dark as void a sinister compassionate misled the feet promising a land of honey and milk a shape stirred in sorrow with tears dripping as … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Four: A Land of Honey and Milk by Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Three-Journey By Hannah Williams

When the sight glazed across the journey, the lips let out a prayer so swift like the years of the youth. The feet walks casually imprinting its mark. Yet, no one remembers the hand that adorned the feet  nor the language that taught it how to walk. An inscription stronger than titanium and more permanent … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Three-Journey By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Two-Lament By Hannah Williams

building hands bristled and bruised turns heaviness into light and the ugly tears streaming from the broken but beautiful hearts ask the fragmented hope to forget thy not and rejoice to remember thee not as a song, not as prayer but it rises in that similitude above the firmament and encircling the sky it asks … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Two-Lament By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty One-Chandelier By Hannah Williams

When emotions are excessive and the mind cannot cope.  Close the eyes and imagine each strand. Dangling like chandelier pieces. A glistening ray of hope beacons. A festivity of light dances in the mind. Hold the light. Hold the hope. Let it fizzle the fear. Can you hear the crystals chorus and the diamond note. … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty One-Chandelier By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty- Daughter Of A Yellow Sun By Hannah Williams

The shards of bottles and debris on the road sinks into the bare feet. The crimson liquid trickles upward. The scarlet paints on the clear canvas of the skin, forming across the ankle a cerise daisy chain. When the red soil sticks to skin, the potency of the sun burns the cut deep within. With … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty- Daughter Of A Yellow Sun By Hannah Williams

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Nine- Frown Lines

When the voice was stolen and she could sing no more, the frown formed and the lines found solace on her face. In her silence, it defended her. A world where hostility determines if you’re victimised and she’d rather be the victor. So she put it on each morning. After all, you cannot report expressions … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Nine- Frown Lines

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Eight- Why Did You Follow Me?

Before deciding to walk in her shoes let her show you her feet. The callous blisters tarnished by the stones who decided to dance on her soles. Yet she walking barefoot across the equator with the red soil tarnishing the pigments of her skin. When she crossed the ocean, borders poured cold water which began … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Eight- Why Did You Follow Me?

Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Seven: Echoes By Hannah Williams

As the television transmits the news unable to peel the callous layers of her mind. She owns a seared conscience which no longer flinch at the vivid violent paintings on her screen. When the hunger of little children hums- she no longer feels guilty. When the injustice harmonises with the defenceless- it no longer warrants … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Forty Seven: Echoes By Hannah Williams