Tag Archives: poems


Before I met you, I was so sure I knew love.

I grew up reading and thinking about love.
I have been feeling it, been hearing love.
Heck, I have even written about love.
Countless times I’ve prayed for it.
Countless people sang about it.
Love was there, everywhere.
So before I have met you,
I was sure I knew love.
Like seeing the sky,
it was so clear,
really simple.
But then
you came, then
all definitions were
altered. All examples
just paled in comparison
to the ones you showed me.
I had to tame my heart for there
were moments when I thought it’d
burst. Of so much love. Of a new kind
of Love. It was weird. It was new. It was 
You. Love was You. You were Love. I just knew.

Not everyone lives

Not everyone with eyes sees
Not everyone with ears hears
Not everyone with heart loves
Not everyone with lips speaks

If not everyone who exists lives,
Then what good is the breath He gives?


*Finished this poem in a few minutes after I got really frustrated with people who just don’t listen (so the original first line was “not everyone with ears listens”). So much in the world would be better if  we would only seek to understand a little more…*


Sleep my child and dream of love,
of clouds, of stars, of heav’n above.
Rest my love in mother’s arms.
I’ll sing to you and keep you warm.


*It’s February! And I have been off the blogging grid for the rest of the Holidays and yes, the whole first month of 2013. But I am determined to get back. After all, it’s a new year and a good time time to start doing things right…again. I am happy to create and write again. Our house is looking better and at six months, my tummy is completely blocking my view of my feet – YES, IT IS HUGE. So since the baby is going to come soon, we figured we should prepare some original songs for him. I am a writer and my husband is a composer, so why not? And so that up there is the first song. Still has no music but I want it to be a lullaby. My very first, for my special special child. And oh! he’s got a pretty interesting name. But that’s a different blog post. ^__^*

Photo source here.


a broken heart

is pretty


a good person with

a broken heart

is very


the hopeless sobs and tears

of a good person with

a broken heart

is really



*A had to call a friend today. A very very good person. Whose heart is broken into pieces. And it didn’t happen to me, the breaking of a heart. Despite that, it pierced me that it hurt. It is the saddest call. I love her and if I could, I would wish her pain away. But now I can only try to comfort her and pray.*

unwavering dreams

I dream dreams
of apples and stars and streams

I sing songs
of laughter and love and lost

I wonder wonders
of souls and dawns and thunders


And it’s all that matters –


they’ll never falter

* You know how it feels when you dream such wonderful dreams and you wake up believing they’re true? I miss that. When I was about 6 or 7 I dreamed about flying. The dream opened not right on  the flying scene. It started on the scene when I was about to learn how to fly. Like Peter pan teaching Wendy. I thought of happy thoughts and I felt so light I barely noticed I was floating. And then I just had to align my body so I could actually fly. Then the wind was brushing my ecstatic face as I  took my flight to wonder world. Then I woke up. And like every kid, ( I suppose) I went to our backyard and tried every single thing down to the tiniest detail. But it didn’t happen. I didn’t fly. I was heart broken. And yet the memory is very dear to me. Now I can only write a poem about it.*

Imperfect heart

Meet my older sister Mia. She is 26 years old, has the body of a 10 year old, a mind of 12 year old, and a heart and face of an angel. She gave me an imperfect cut-out heart from a red paper last valentine…and it was the most perfect gift in the world. I love her dearly.

Imperfect heart

She made me an imperfect heart
With her shaky hands she traced its shape
She cut it out more or less
And then waited until I came

She said, “Happy Valentine’s day”
With her loving smile and gaze
Her tiny hands she opened gladly
And to me her imperfect heart she gave.