I am not a poet

               
Forget it,
you must be kidding.
My brain is frozen I can't think of anything.
Everyone  is vigorously writing.
Except me.
I have never written a poem in my life.
I can't, rhyme, allude or personify.
Geez!! does my brain even work?
I know how I feel like
and I can tell you.
But I can’t put it into words for it to deeply sink into you.
I love reading your beautiful poems that fill my heart with utter joy.
I wish I could rhyme like you, imagine like you and be you.
But,
I am not a poet.

I don't know poetry.

Who is she

Miriam
Tall, shy, clumsy, curious 
Lover of cats and beautiful sunsets
Who fears losing purpose in life
Who needs compassion
Who gives what she has to be happy
Who would like to see peaceful people in a peaceful world 
But knows it won't happen

 

Green home: a color poem

                                       Green are the leaves of blossoming flowers.

                                     The fluffy grass of a sunny summer.

                                     Green is the sound of whistling trees in my homeland.

                                    Green is  the breeze blowing from North to East.

                                     Green is the scene of endless tress from a mountain top.

                                     The fresh scent of lemon grass in my backyard.

                                     Green is the aura of peace and longing.

                                      Green is home from long ago

                            

Chasing my destiny

                            I don't dash or rush after the wind but the wind after me

                              I shoot before the gun, and reach before others run.

                              I am faster than a starving dog chasing for its bone.

                              I rise before the sun and get back before its down.

                              Why do I run?

                              It's not a mystery.

                              I don't really run to be fit but to flee the weak me.

                             The side of me that evilly whispers

                             "You won't make it"

                              I won't give up because I have a destiny

                              and I am desperate to reach it.