A poem I have written about the symbol of death, the reaper. Not only is the angel of death often called the reaper but he’s usually only associated with death and this is wrong. He can also be associated with change and transformation.

I did not fall off the bed.
Only You winked at me?

A priest called us apes.

A short poem written on my birthday… shows my fascination with animals…

You do not have to be afraid of what you are.

Six brothers and sister go on a trip to the Library. Before the day is done, nothing that is now will ever be the same again.

*This entire story is dialouge-based, it is up to the reader’s imagination and the words I write to paint the picture of this story.*

Part ten of the ongoing saga of my life insofar, my transformation.

It is about transformations.

The milk is an essential ingredient for human life that takes several forms and provides so many benefits. It changes form depending on the chemicals that it encounters, just like friends being influential in life.

A descriptive narrative poem about autumn and the change of season.