At first sight.

Even in the brightest of days

your absence denies me the light

It aint an easy task walking a dark desert

thoughts of you bring me memories you and i

sitting vis-a-vis, exchanging glances

at incomprehendible creations

epitomes; beautifully sculptured

sharing an inexplicable feeling

a burning sensation right in the heart

an undying flame beneath the skin

you breathing fast, i even faster

staring into each others eye

loosing feeling of the bumpy road

an imaginary wireless connection between hearts

an engraving sculptured on the left of my heart

leaving my blood flowing you

i forgetting to alight at the intended stop

and not regretting walking all the way back

the inexplicable feeling

of love at first sight.

This poem first appeared on Edwardwrightblog on December 6th 2016.




Sour nostalgia, frightening scintillations, terrific chills, exasperating remembrances. What’s left of a love story. Archaic. Cloudy.


When her light started dimming, my days grew dark, darker with every passing hour as I lay in wait, patient, drenched in hope, and soaked in thought, waiting. Here I was, sacrificed by my beliefs, crucified by the ways my conscience deemed best.

The days I was counting, one after the other, wearing my knees off, trying to converse with someone whose existence I now doubted, threatened to turn into months. I was afraid another moon was going to show up before the words I awaited came out of her mouth. The words that would either plaster happiness on my existence or whoop me up, like a Cherokee drum, the Dwayne Johnson way.

I’d always asked questions my whole life. I can still remember how mother’s mood would dramatically change, thanks to my inquinsitive nature. I can still recall the many times when the curious me got on her nerves. Well, now, all that qualifies to be called a by-gone, a sweet past, because at least back then I would get answers albeit never enough to quench the thirst. The array of questions that flooded my mind now disoriented my being. Many questions and no one to ask, let alone to answer them. It shredded my insides that a why or how always was in my brain making painful reverberations, threatening to drive me mental if answers didn’t come; but ow, I was far from being saved.

I could still remember the old me. The good old Ed. I still remembered how I’d sworn to myself to not ever be blinded by love. I could applaud myself for how long I’d managed to religiously live by that principle, and still, I remember how that principle came to stop seeing the light of day. She happened. She did happen, and whenever I laid my eyes on her, her beauty dealt blows to the weak ideas I had about love, vigorously strangling them, squeezing all the life out of them and replacing them with proof that love indeed could happen at first sight.

It was the start of a story, the beginning of an end.


Stay tuned.

Chapters will start rolling out soon.

In her full bloom.

Down the dirt paths that snaked the woods,

Oft walked a pair of tiny feet,

Skipping to a hummed tune,

And striding soft on the ground,


Round the barks of the trees that stood the woods,

Oft rubbed a pair of little palms,

Tapping her fingers dirty,

And loving the play,


Across the silence that reigned the woods,

Oft cracked the sound of a rejuvenated laughter,

Chuckling to Daddy’s jokes,

And cracking ribs uncontrollably,


Behind the widest trees that lived the woods

Oft hid a tiny baby

Hardening the game for Daddy

Enjoying the ‘hide and seek’


But now 

That’s nothing more than a good yesterday

That I oft re-live in my daydreams.


Down the dirt paths

And past the widest trees

Of the silent woods,

With a pair of majestic feet

A pair of alluring hands

And a breathtaking smile,

Oft walks my full grown princess

In her full bloom.


A musical beauty

I once met a beauty

Her skin smoother than a Marshmello beat

Her gaze.. twice awe striking than a Martin Garrix sound

Her voice sweeter than a Chainsmokers’ Melody

Her words.. cryptic.. a twenty one pilots song?

Her look.. intoxicating, something like a XYLØ tune

Her eyes.. some Kygo sensation

And when I woke next morn’

I was afraid I loved music too much it gave me queer dreams.

Benign ™.


Whenever she hurt me, I never held back; I cried and hated myself for every bit of it. But I preferred that the tears don’t roll down my cheeks. I’d rather they ripple backward. I’d rather they flow inward and rain on my heart, drop by drop, heartbeat after heaetbeat. The tune of the showers and the reverberations would make worthy music, I I reserved each of the symphonies, to make the beat for my next love song, to make the rythm for my next love story.

Too bad

I’ve once heard that giving wasn’t necessarily receiving.
Too bad I gave you all I had,

In the hope that you’ll love me back someday.

I’ve once heard that loving is a learning process.

Too bad you found some subjects too hard,

Too hard for even a try, a try……

Too bad.

Too bad for the ‘us’

The ‘us’ I saw all night and day.

Too bad for the dreams,

The dreams in which you played main character all season.

Too bad for the fantasies,

That never were to be a reality.


Learning to consider you a lost conquest,

Might grant me a life, longer

Longer than one spent waiting for apples under a mango tree

Too bad.