5 am fancies

5 am
Nears again
My brain whirs
Mechnically
I still remain

Faced with the dark
Eyes wide open
Searching
Foolishly
For answers

#micropoetry

3 am thoughts

Unsurprisingly
He makes
A grand entrance
Into my 3 am thoughts

I'm annoyed (of course).

Sigh

She doesn't remember
How I held
Her wrinkled hands
When she lay unwell.

A hollow shell
Melancholic reminder
Of she who once
Knew me so well

Haven

He finds shelter
In the haven of her hair; in
Mahogany wisps and
Cinnamon curls.

Realising, the
infinite delicacy
of a simple moment.

Tomorrow

I fear
what tomorrow
brings
every day.

I wonder
if it'll justify
me behaving
This way.

Side note: I've decided to feed my fixation with poetry by setting up a twitter account - who knew a community of poets existed here? You can find me at @peoplepuzzleme

I'll be posting some of my twitter creations here also (like this).

I Write

I write to replace
The woes of my mind
With the spark of dreams.

I write
To part from worries
And past troubles.

To breathe.

#micropoetry

Slipping

I can feel myself
beggining to fall back.

Conscious of it.
Wary of what it is.

My willpower wallows;
My motivation
Is gradually ebbing away,
Like flyaway grains of sand in an egg timer.

I want to stop myself; break the glass.
Before it's too late.
Before fearsome thoughts
Become unretractable actions.

Before I permanently imprint the errors of my lacking resolve on my life.

Dear God, help me prevail.

Still

Distance

If I don't stay away,
I'll be closer to and further away from you than before.
I, holding questions in my eyes, while
You merely glance in my direction.

And thus I draw a line under what I wished could be.

Fear

You've done all you can
Worked hard
Cried hard
Sweat hard.

Emailed people until they respond
Stressed endlessly
Learnt every detail needlessly
It made you grow stronger. Work harder.

Yet you can't help but bite your nails -
Knowing that you're in the unknown.

When all you've wanted is being held away from you at arm's length, all you can pray is that hard work pays off.

Because if it doesn't, then what does?

So close to reaching the final hurdle, it'd truly suck to get knocked down now.

The Tide.

At times like these I wish for him.
He'd kiss my cheek and hold me tight.
A lover's caress or
An arm around my shoulder.

When the yellow glare of tomorow
Binds my lips, makes me tremble.
He'd pull away the ribbons of fear
That cling to my very being.

When I'm dragged backwards,
Self branded a failure.
He'd soothe my wounds;
Ease my pain.

At times like these he'd guide me to clarity,
His hand gently placed in mine.
Through the hazy blur of everyday life
To the blanket-like warmth of being content.

Perhaps I Overthink

It is on this dull day,
That, I wonder:

What is on the mind of the wonderer?

Jewels? Treasures?
Surviving extreme measures?
Exotic escapades and delightful leisures?

Or perhaps not.
The wonderer possesses time; the thinker possesses reason.

But is reason always reasonable?

Aha! Is it is witchcraft, or sorcery?
Voodoo dolls and black magic?
Or maybe how their reality is truly tragic.

Oh, tragedy. Such a divine thing.

The thinker holds false rationality captive;
The wonderer ponders - watches and waits.
And waits. Until the right moment has arrived.
Waits, until their whole life has drifted into desolation.

Then head first, they plunge into the deep end.
Hoping, so desperately! So earnestly!
Yet never quite achieving.

Dreaming,
yet always fading into the dark,
- yet almighty -
abyss of their mind.

When Words Fail,

I let my piano do the talking.

Current obsession:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3GIuIcCNiE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

[Insert Motivational Mug Here]

As exams are on the horizon, I wanted to blog about what success means to me - and I gained more clarity on this through watching various TED talks, one of which is: http://www.ted.com/talks/john_wooden_on_the_difference_between_winning_and_success?utm_source=t.co&awesm=on.ted.com_i05ED&utm_medium=on.ted.com-twitter&utm_content=awesm-publisher&utm_campaign=

Ultimately, I believe that trying your best makes a successful person, irrespective of the outcome. When you achieve your full personal potential and defy the expectations of others. When you fall repeatedly, yet get back up again each time, even when the odds are stacked against you - that takes strength and shows resilience; the building blocks of a successful individual.

After all, we are the masters of our fate, and God is our guide; our teacher. When you are tested, how you respond is in your hands.

Consequences of Sleeping At 3 AM

Sleep paralysis as usual. Visions when eyes closed.

Then I had a dream. About Jack - he had decided to come to England on a whim. He'd brought his simple black rectangular suitcase. Hadn't spoken a word of explanation to the people he'd left behind at home.

One moment, I couldn't find him inside the house. Looking outside, I saw the silhouette of his skinny figure standing in the rain, suitcase by his side. It was dark; the amber glow of a single streetlight illuminated his backdrop as rain fell unrelentlessly. His head was bowed; sadness emnating from every inch of his stance.

I stepped outside, bare foot, and walked towards him, stopping when we were face to face, in the middle of the road. He looked straight at me, his gaze never faltering. I looked down, and gently took his icy hand in both of mine, trying to warm it.

"It'll be okay."

His other hand clasped ontop of mine. My eyes darted up to gage his expression - his gaze had softened; his lips upturned slightly.

"Thank you."

My own lips echoed his movement.

Suddenly I blinked and remembered where we stood - in the middle of a road, late at night, in heavy rain.

"Let's get you inside Mr." I grinned and began to walk him backwards, only to be held by his continuing grip on my hands.

"Jack?" I asked cautiously, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I really mean it - thank you. You never once questioned me when everything went pear shaped." He squeezed my hands. I simply smiled and stood on my tip toes; gently kissing his cold cheek.

During his visit he was quiet. I recall perceiving him as a child - even though in stature he stood taller than me. When we spoke he told me of how he was homesick, and of the cultural shock that he experienced. I understood more than he knew.

Glance

I wish that I wouldn't
And I wish that you would.

Perhaps it's best that you shouldn't
Because I pray that you could.

High Voltage In His Lips

Endless thoughts tainted
Red, with crimson promises
And scarlet kisses.