Hangin’ there …

’tis been a long waiting


by the threads


the noose ends


with faith eternal

Promise of the neither land


Keeping the I awake


The Crocodile Room

I send her.I do.

My flesh, my blood,my breath,my very own soul

I send her

I do

She is learning

She is growing

I believe them

I do

She comes back with stories

Half eaten fruits and all

I’ve been there

I have

Must she go too at all

Whilst ‘they’ invent

Mysterious rooms full of crocodiles dancing to tunes

‘I’ wait in impatience, counting, them decieving moons

For ‘her’ to find her ‘own’ dancing shoes…

She is too tiny they tell me

But send her I do


Just for Kicks


At first

You were

Just two lines on a stick



The heartbeats

Felt more optimistic



My mornings

Were sick



My bulging belly began

To itch



I Prayed

Just for Kicks


Some days

Were dazed

By your tricks


They say

Tis Braxton Hicks



Well versed

In our mutual ticks




Will run thick


I’m waiting

Come soon

Make it quick

Waiting to Welcome You

I hope it’s warm inside

Were your eyes wet every time I cried?

Did you feel parched when my lips dried?

When I watched my weight did you feel denied?

Every step I took

Every move I made

Did it feel like a roller coaster ride?

You are safe inside

For in my heart you reside

We are all waiting

Waiting outside

With minds and arms

Open wide

By The very excited yet anxious Closet Poet

Come Soon



I can feel you inside

Come soon

It’s wonderful outside


The skies are still blue

There are butterflies in every hue

The grass still green

On either side


The seas are still blue

There are fish in every hue

The eyes still dream

On either side


Birds are still flying

Lovers still sighing

New-borns still crying

Grand Parents still dying

On either side


Both sides await you

Are you ardent inside?

Come soon

It’s wonderful outside

Come soon

 By The Closet Poet

Time’s Up



What’s left of me?

A few stifled breaths

A few beads of tears

Not many people who care

Not much black in my hair

My time is up

Not yet

Not yet


What’s holding me back?

A few bottled-up desires

A few pent-up yearns

None of this seems fair

None for me will despair

My time is up

Not yet

Not yet



What’s it that beckons?

A few sparks of light

A few streams of white

Release me


Seize me

I give me consent

Go ahead


No fret

No fret

By The Closet Poet



What’s Left of me…

No Grandiose

No Artifice

No Gimmicks

No Tactics

Not even Fossils

Nor Relics


Don’t diagnose me

Just overdose me

I’m morose

I’m comatose

I’m ready

Ready to decompose

Ready to transpose

Bid the world

My final



By The Closet Poet

Tough Cookie to Crack

f cook

You are Fortuna’s favourite child

On you Tyche will constantly smile

Abundantia will abundance bring

Felicitas’s coins will make you sing

Lakshmi will adorn your household

On these lines if you are not yet sold

I can’t let my brains go to ruin and wrack

You are just another tough cookie to crack


By The Closet Poet

Inspired by a prompt for Day 21 on NaPoWriMo 2013.