a boy called Wright…

There was a boy called Wright

who very much hated the white

He grew old

and more bold

He hated himself for his hair turned bright.


just start laughing. and laugh like its the last day of the month


On Thursday the twenty fifth.

On Thursday the twenty fifth

He encountered a rose

so exquisite he couldn’t feel a thorn

His feelings he let become boss

and drive him to the throne


On Thursday the twenty fifth

A rose encountered a hand

so gentle she blunt her thorns

Their hearts she let bond

to trap him, a weakling, at the ‘throne’.


get thinking. keep reading.




Gone, a whole day

spent differently

frittering, toiling, staring

working, lazying, spending.


Gone yet another day

spent very differently

searching, tarmacking,

praying, asking, tendering.


But little can be done

The day is gone, forever gone

Never to come back.

When the battle begins…

When the battle begins,

the spears shall pierce,

Blood shall flow,

some shall be maimed,

Horses shall be slain,

The ground shall turn red with blood,

and the sky red with fire,

some faces red with victory,

some black with paleness,

Swords shall be stained,

some shall slice themselves blunt.

Bows shall snap,

Arrows shall twang’,

Carts shall collapse,

Valuables shall be lost,

Captives shall be taken

and leaders will be overthrown.

For all these,

we’re ready and well prepared.

Armed to tooth, we lie in wait,

for the battlefield-drummer’s signal,

to saddle battle-wise sword-first.


.tight position.

It’s a tight position

The decision has to be made

The square that’s my dread i behold

Its centre that means eternity

eternal life eternal death

stepping in? backing off?

the heart beats,

momentarily pops out of position,

knees wobble,

sweat trickles,

knuckles click,

hairs turn,

worries increase,

and the chest

grows more resonate with emotion

but waiting doesn’t ease the situation

it helps not time wasting

so i harden my heart

breath held

and jaws stiffened

finally deciding to take it to the head

I thrust the foot forward

In high hopes

and deep prayer

that fate holds the best.