Emotion & Expression
A space for intensity — whether it’s a teacup tempest or the quiet aftermath of a storm. These poems explore the highs, lows, and often-unspoken parts of the human experience.
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Are You There?
We’ve all been there—drifting into the abyss,slipping out of place,until reality claws us back,kicking, screaming, unwilling. And what a reality it is. A world that hums,a world that races,people trapped inside their own little bubbles.Obsessed with drama.Drowning in demands. Your voice bounces,echoes,lost in the hollow chamber of noise.And you ask yourself—“Does anyone even hear me?” Meanwhile—someone lies in a hospital bed.Alone. Mum.Dad.Nain.Taid.Aunty. Uncle.Brother. Sister. Too far to visit.Too busy to call.Are their families there for them?The answer? … No. And when a stranger collapses in front of you,are you there? When someone is dragged to the ground,their voice cut short—are you there? No. Most turn their faces away.Most step over…
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Do You Listen?
The world is loud — but is that the problem? Or have we learned to close our ears to what matters most?
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Voice
What is a voice if it can’t be heard?A whisper lost, a silent word.Heard where? At home, on stage, in halls?Or nowhere—bouncing off the walls? We hear so many voices near—Parents, siblings, those we hold dear.Grandparents’ wisdom, friends who care,But what of those in power there? Teachers, medics, those in blue—Do we listen? Do we valueWhat they say, or turn away,Ignoring words they speak each day? And what of leaders, those on high—Councillors, ministers, spinning lies?They preach of cuts, they talk of debt,Yet do they hear our voices yet? When does a voice stop being true?When words are staged, rehearsed anew.Debates, old lines, the same refrain,We’ve heard it all and…
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Storm in a Teacup
Have you heard of the phrase, so often said? A storm in a teacup—spinning in your head. A tempest confined, yet raging inside, Twisting, shouting, no place to hide. It starts so small, just a ripple, a wave, A thought, a worry, a mind to save. And though a teacup is easy to drain, What if the storm just fills it again? Pour and pour—too much to contain, The weight of the world, the whisper of pain. And when it spills, shatters on the floor, You scramble to gather what was yours before. But hear me now—you’re not alone, The tempest will pass, the winds have flown. Discard the storm, let the echoes cease, Put the cup down,…
