In English we say:
I miss you from the bottom of my heart.
In insta-poetry we say:
I miss you
From the
Bottom of
My heart
Tag: franksolanki
Late-Night Thoughts #82
My heart woke me up
In the dead of the night
Crying for help
As I was about to ask
What I can do to make
Things better for him, the
brain intervened and said, “Switch off the damned phone and go — the hell — to sleep.”
Is Love Blind?
When people say that
Love is blind
I find the statement errant
You can see that it is
Simply not true
On further assessment
Blind is actually a person with severe visual impairment
Real Art
In a room full of art
In a museum full of artefacts
I’d have my eyes on you
And only you
Because you’d be either walking around with your fingers in your nose or stumbling over and breaking something priceless or both
Eat Together
In a schedule packed
With chaos and rush
Sharing a meal with you
Is perhaps the most
Peaceful part of my day
Especially when you are hooked to your phone and I am to mine
Self-Illuminating Love – II
Beautiful, radiant and bright
You glow, golden and white
Twinkling like the stars in sight
You love with a lustrous might
Surrounded by your constant light
It’s getting hard to sleep at night
Music to my Ears
When I first met you
I had no idea that
You would bring so much
Euphony into my life
Every word you speak
Every syllable you utter
Is music to my ears
Jarring, dragging and ear-shattering
I Am Here
If you need a shoulder to cry
I am here
If you need a mouth to converse
I am here
If you need an ear to listen
I am here
If you need an arm to hold
I am here
If you need some space
Well um then I am not here
That’s a Stretch
You have a big heart
For a reason
Inflated by the pressure
Of trying to contain
An overweight lover within
Then There Were None
Ten men out to dine, soon they were down to
nine; nine men lost their head, one of them
dropped dead; eight men left to fight, now
they were a man light; seven men
decided to play, one fellow ran
away; six men crossed the
road, one of them
got bored; five
men took
a
boat,
one of
them couldn’t float;
four men jumped in
a sea, out came only
three; three men picked a card,
one guy cried hard; two men had
no clue, one of them lost his shoe;
one man wept alone, turned into a dry stone;
oh the poem is done for then there were none
Frank Solanki 