Those Curious Eyes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those curious eyes, like twin moons bright,
Gleam with wonder in soft daylight.
They trace the world with silent grace,
A thousand tales in one small face.

They leap through shadows, chase the sun,
Each glance a game, a race begun.
A whispering purr, so soft, so deep,
It lulls the storm, it sings me sleep.

Each tiny paw, each graceful stride,
Carries a joy I cannot hide.
A tumble here, a stretch, a yawn—
She is my dusk, she is my dawn.

She guards my heart with velvet paws,
Knows when I pause, feels when I pause.
No spoken word, no need to say,
Her love just melts the grief away.

And in those eyes — wild, brave, and wide,
My restless thoughts find place to hide.
A living charm, a soul so wise...
My world glows through her curious eyes.

The Symbol of My Dream

The Symbol of My Dream

  

Within this mark, my spirit rests,
A sign of strength upon my chest.
Not merely lines or shielded art,
But the echo of my beating heart.

It whispers soft—“You are not alone,”
In storm or silence, I am your own.
Through paths unknown and skies unsure,
This dream, this symbol, keeps me pure.

A lotus guards with petals wide,
A sacred space where fears subside.
In every curve, a promise flows—
That I am held when no one knows.

It tells of hope, of journeys steep,
Of vows the waking soul will keep.
A quiet fire that lights the way,
That says, “You’re safe. You’ll find your day.”

So when the world turns cold and dim,
I turn my gaze and trust in Him.
This symbol, bold, both shield and key—
It is my strength. It sets me free.

The Garden Within

In the hush of painted petals, tall and true,
My dreams rise gently in gold and dew.
Each stem, a hope that dared to grow,
Each bloom, a fire that learned to glow.

Behind the fence I softly place,
The roots of love, the will, the grace.
To guard, not cage; to frame, not bind,
A garden shaped by heart and mind.

The sky above still calls me high,
With birds of thought that dance and fly.
Yet here below, I craft and tend,
Where passion and purpose sweetly blend.

In colours drawn from soul and light,
I paint my truth in morning’s sight.
A canvas born of joy and pain,
Where loss gives bloom, and hope remains.

No storm can steal what’s rooted deep,
Nor winds disturb the dreams I keep.
For every petal knows its place,
In rhythm with the earth’s embrace.

So let the world beyond me spin,
This garden grows from deep within.
A space of stillness, soft and wide,
Where dreams and grace in peace abide.

Beyond the Fence

Beneath the sky of tender hues,

My thoughts arise on morning dews.

Each blade of green, each stroke I send,

Speaks of the dreams I strive to tend.

The flowers tall in golden grace,

Mirror the hopes I daily chase.

They bloom not wild, nor held too tight,

But dance in freedom, kissed by light.

The fence below with roots so deep,

Protects the seeds I wish to keep.

Not walls of fear, but care composed,

Where soul and soil are gently closed.

Little homes with roofs aglow,

Hold stories that the breezes know.

Of faith and fire, of calm and storm,

Of moments rare and love in form.

Above them soar the birds I freed,

Each one a thought, a silent need.

To wander far, yet still return—

To fires that in my spirit burn.

So here I paint, and here I pray,

With colours drawn from every day.

This garden grows not just in land,

But in my heart, through brush and hand.

Unsolved Truth

An unsolved truth, a haunting cry,
A life extinguished, left to die.
A family torn, a heart laid bare,
While the world spins lies, unfit to care.

A crime so vile, a shadowed deed,
Justice falters, truth in need.
Yet whispers grow, with twists and turns,
Feeding the fire while a family burns.

Do you not see the tears they shed?
The weight they carry, the words unsaid?
To mock their pain, to spread deceit,
Is a crime itself, a dark repeat.

Karma walks with silent tread,
For crimes unseen, for lives left dead.
The hands that harm, the tongues that lie,
Will one day meet their reckoning nigh.

Let not your words be knives that scar,
Let truth, not cruelty, guide who we are.
A broken heart needs care, not hate,
For healing lies in truth’s embrace.

So pause, reflect, let silence reign,
Let justice rise to end the pain.
For the unsolved truth, the grieving plea,
Deserves compassion, humanity.

A Dutiful Daughter

She dreamed once, oh how she dreamed,
Of a life her heart had brightly gleamed.
But duty knocked, and dreams grew dim,
For she chose to care, though odds were grim.

Parents abandoned by a son they raised,
Their daughter stood strong, unwavering, amazed.
She bore their pain, their tears, their plight,
While the world judged her without insight.

A brother who left, yet spins the tale,
Claiming her care is the one to assail.
The truth she carries, the lies they weave,
Injustice sharp, yet she won’t grieve. 

All Their children distant, Their visits few,
Misunderstandings that stung anew.
But still, she shoulders, without refrain,
The love, the care, the silent pain.

Her In-laws she serves with tender grace,
And her Aunt Uncle in their rightful place.
An entrepreneur with endless roles,
Directing dreams and chasing goals.

The world sees fragments, not her fight,
How she balances wrong and right.
They whisper, they judge, they twist her story,
Yet her heart holds no thirst for glory.

To those who claim, to those who blame,
Her silent burden puts them to shame.
For love is her anchor, her unspoken creed,
She gives herself to all who need.

But oh, dear world, can you not see,
The weight she bears, her silent plea?
For all she does, for all she gives,
In her sacrifice, true love lives.

She has no regret, for what she chose
For She is a fighter, doesnt succumb to abuse
Wish her the best of what she deserves
Let her be the Model for all other daughters