Why I Write

I write when I fall in love

Words do come from up above.

I write when I fall laughing on the floor

Just because there’s so much more.

I write when I fall apart

When someone breaks my heart.

How I Write

One letter at a time. T… h… e…

I write in a mode that’s speedy

until there’s a familiar word I see,

and continue tapping keys in qwerty

until a sentence is a possibility.

But wait!

The sentences I have now created

out of the words I have just selected

from the letters I have last uncoded

are in no way really connected

to make any sense at all when read.


One. Hello.

Two. Let’s go.

Three. I know.

Four.I miss you.

Five. I love you.

Six. I hate you.

Seven. Zero.


Obsessive Compulsive

I just want everything to be clean and  in order.

Does that make it a dysfunction or a disorder?

My daily routine continues. Please don’t hamper.

Or forever suffer from my fuming anger!

The whites stay in the white basket,

Colored ones go to the blue bucket,

And blacks should always be in the closet

As shoes should be paired right as one set.

All frames should be aligned straight

From the smallest of lightweight

To the biggest, let that always be the state.

Clear. Clean. Straight. And in order. Oh wait!

Do I spot on the floor a black thin thread?

I’ll go sweep again, look under the bed

For hairballs and cobwebs I truly dread.

Crooked and twisted, I get so frustrated!

The cracks on the wall are quite disturbing.

Oh no! Even the pastel paint is fading!

I want to cry out loud, my darling,

For today, I see disorder in everything.

Can’t you hear me beg my plea?

I don’t like anything messy and dirty.

It’s not a disorder, just some symmetry.

It’s just the way I am. It’s my personality.


Friday Booze


Fridays never cease to amaze me.

Fridays are made to set me free.

No drama. No work. No busy bee.

A few bottles between me and my buddy.

We promise to let ourselves loose

But as the night deepens, we call a truce.

Baby, befuddled we are, slow down on the booze

Before we fall into shameful snoring snooze.

A Girl Who Writes

Here is a girl who loves to write

Romanticizing each word without a fright

She smiles and takes everything in stride

As she shyly faces everyone in sight.

In all her poems and rhymes, she takes no pride

Why, you may ask, she has to hide

She’s just scared someone might chide

Would you be her guide and stay by her side?

Here is a girl who loves to write

She blogs four poems every night

And doesn’t mind not getting a reward

For when she writes, she knows she’s right.

For Exactly What I Am

The onset of spring opens a new door.

There he is, standing with such ardor.

The sleepy eyes lit up upon seeing me.

Is he the one from dreams I see?

Yes, I found him, the one man

Who will love me for exactly what I am.

Out in the field,  holding a red flower,

he walks towards me and stops when near,

Gazes at me like I were a Disney princess

And treats me with loving care and gentleness.

He who thinks the sun will always shine

even in the midst of a storm, it’ll be fine.

He who kisses me in good mood or bad,

Who says I’m pretty when I feel ugly and mad.

And today I shout loud to the world,

I found the man who loves me for exactly what I am!




you have to feel the rain

to release the pain

and not just get wet

or you will never forget.

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