The starting point - a perfect reflection To be:- borne of but simple drops, only to be shaped by the artist’s direction of choosing.- burdened by the knowing that our mirror image holds depths of wisdom we seem to be losing.- resting our fate in the hands of a rogue artist carrying the instruments of …
Water and the air in our skies keeps us alive enough to feel the sadness of their color blue. Acrylic on Canvas, Tape
Within my bare limitations, I rest weak, alone, and helpless. At the genesis of my objectives lies a motive for global consensus. For, I hold no substantial power but that of the hands I was granted, by which I stroke this paint on paper to color words of my intentions. And yet - In these …
They tell me that: I have no curves, and my breasts are too flat. My belly’s too full, and my arms are too fat. That I am not thin, yet my body lacks substance. I don’t fit into the style they’re accustomed. Watercolor Marker This poem is meant to empower women and convey that beauty …
Is it a result of my own actions, the consequences of which remain unbeknownst to me that I live in this quintessentiality? My luck, not to be reckoned with - For it continues to beckon my patience - Its tolerance degenerating, and my threshold for it is shaken, as I persist through this reality. In …
Sad, little red stain So isolated it remains. What a pity, The hole it dug itself. The irony that the power they wish to consume, would be what leads To Russia’s lonely doom.
Circling the drain,I’m wide awakeIn my sleep. I feel the love of pain,In our words,As we speak. I feel it building now,This urge we cannot tame. I hear her speaking now,“The love we never made In our heartsTo forgetThe truthWe never gave To the partsWe regretAnd hold ontoThe same It’s never leaving us,The wounds we …
All around me All I hear is silence. It is deafening- Except, still, I can feel the sound of my breathAlong with the beating of my chest. I can make out the sensations Of my eyes’ movements Underneath my eyelids - A new awareness I wouldn’t have otherwise had - Had I not been in …
Doesn’t it feel as though, every seven days, time resets, in a way? One might even feel a similar jolt of energy at the start of each day - as we are granted the ability to re-create one’s self after a good night’s rest -Though the nights, not countless -Because - By its nature, a …
Ahka Rhash 