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Posted in Short reads

Brain storm.

Tonight is one of those nights when my inspiration stream is flooded with a number of thoughts… …………. And just like that, everything freezes in a brain storm.

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Posted in Short reads, Uncategorized

Letter to my imaginary friend.

Dear Shadow

I recently discovered that you had never left. You’ve been with me all this while, I guess that’s why I called you Shadow because you are with me even when the light goes off, I just can’t see you.

You may be Shadow and a product of my imagination but I swear you are the most realistic friend I have. You are like the sun, as a new day begins you rise with your healing rays letting me dance in your warm aura and as the day ends I am at perfect peace.

Although our friendship is considered insane, in you I find sanity, clarity,peace and serenity .

Thank you for always brightening my day, thanks for guiding me through my dreams and most of all, thank you for always being there for me, Shadow .

lots of love from your imaginary friend,

Nandy πŸ’™

Posted in Short reads

InsomiaΒ‘

It’s an unusual disorder that has become a usual item on my agenda. I can’t slip a pill of sleep down my pocket after the clock strikes ten. No matter how hard I try to ride on this train it doesn’t go ‘choo-choo’ on these tracks. As everyone else goes to sleep, I awaken with the moon and the stars. I feel so connected with the energy of the night, I barely have a fright of what it would bring. What will I do to get some beauty rest that I deserve? I have counted sheep ,exsauhsted every conversation I possibly could ,played every symphony to sooth my nerves and thought every happy thought I could think of all to no avail. My eyes won’t shut .I feel a rush of energy running through my blood stream I could bolt through an insane number of marathons. Every warm cup of milk feels like a giant of coffee with sixteen spoons of sugar. I start to see the sun rise and new begins .

Posted in Letters, Poetry

To the poem before this (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I sat in my seat;

Amidst a brainstorm-

The seemingly perfect blog post at the time struck me,

But it’s alteration is of the norm.

Not a new phenomenon-

This happens quite often;

One idea when my thoughts make out with words

And another when my hand kisses paper to pen..

It often leaves me wondering;

If I always share what’s on my mind

Or if it falls victim before the hands of alteration

While my initial thought is left behind…

If my words say-

What I intend for them to mean,

Or if they are only a fabricated illusion

Of the mind behind the screen..

If this poem was my initial idea-

If this was my initial thought;

Or if I lost it all in a cloud of words

In the perfection I long sought…

Dear poem before this;

I wish to have you rewritten,

Glowing in your craft-

Unraveled and unforgotten…

I wish to feel your originality;

Caress your nakedness,

Share an appreciation for truth

Embedded in your poetic grace..

I wish to feel your substance;

Recognize your narrative.

Listen to your echos of silence

And all you have to give….

Dear poem before this;

If we ever do get the chance to reconnect,

I want you to recognize that you weren’t neglected-

You only fell victim of the blogger effect!

By: Phanuel Ayelum.


Here’s yet another poem on some of my everyday experiences in the blogging world.

I call this one “The blogger effect” Very often, my “blueprint ideas” for a piece of writing, look nothing like what I end up with πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚…

To be honest, I’m not even so sure this poem is what I thought it should be!!!

Nonetheless, I hope you love it…

Like this poem if you liked it, Share and feel free to drop a comment…

You can email me at phanuelayelum1@gmail.com

Or follow me on social media in the links below :

Twitter|Facebook|Instagram|Pinterest


Posted in Letters, Poetry

To the poem before this (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I sat in my seat;

Amidst a brainstorm-

The seemingly perfect blog post at the time struck me,

But it’s alteration is of the norm.

Not a new phenomenon-

This happens quite often;

One idea when my thoughts make out with words

And another when my hand kisses paper to pen..

It often leaves me wondering;

If I always share what’s on my mind

Or if it falls victim before the hands of alteration

While my initial thought is left behind…

If my words say-

What I intend for them to mean,

Or if they are only a fabricated illusion

Of the mind behind the screen..

If this poem was my initial idea-

If this was my initial thought;

Or if I lost it all in a cloud of words

In the perfection I long sought…

Dear poem before this;

I wish to have you rewritten,

Glowing in your craft-

Unraveled and unforgotten…

I wish to feel your originality;

Caress your nakedness,

Share an appreciation for truth

Embedded in your poetic grace..

I wish to feel your substance;

Recognize your narrative.

Listen to your echos of silence

And all you have to give….

Dear poem before this;

If we ever do get the chance to reconnect,

I want you to recognize that you weren’t neglected-

You only fell victim of the blogger effect!

By: Phanuel Ayelum.


Here’s yet another poem on some of my everyday experiences in the blogging world.

I call this one “The blogger effect” Very often, my “blueprint ideas” for a piece of writing, look nothing like what I end up with πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚…

To be honest, I’m not even so sure this poem is what I thought it should be!!!

Nonetheless, I hope you love it…

Like this poem if you liked it, Share and feel free to drop a comment…

You can email me at phanuelayelum1@gmail.com

Or follow me on social media in the links below :

Twitter|Facebook|Instagram|Pinterest


Posted in Uncategorized

Beam through the window (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

Beam through the window;

You glow with hope and inspiration,

You reflect of the surface of my writing pad-

And my ink glitters with imagination…

Beam through the window;

Remind me of my mornings.

Fill me with hope for the new

That I may forget my mourning.

Beam through the window;

Tell me about sunrise-

Tell me I’m awake at your dusk

And haven’t yet met my demise…

Beam through the window;

Write me a poem-

Speak to my reader

And tell them I wish to know them.

Beam through the window;

This may sound absurd,

But when you beam upon my poems,

You fill in the next word….

By: Phanuel Ayelum.


Kick-starting The week with hope and strength!!! Hope you loved it….

Like this poem if you liked it, Share and feel free to drop a comment…

You can email me at phanuelayelum1@gmail.com

Or follow me on social media in the links below :

Twitter|Facebook|Instagram|Pinterest

Posted in Poetry

Fallen Grammar (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

I keep falling;

Falling into the abyss.

An oblivion of my reflection.

Haunted by grammar,

Haunted by dark faces of depression,

I am lost with deception;

Because I keep falling into something!

Into this void called nothing

In a grammarless thought-

I fall out of words…

Like the leaves of autumn,

Out of this punctuation –

Like I need to read this.

I need to be careful with the comma,

But I keep falling into a written illusion of myself!

It’s a fallen grammar!

I try to capitalize on these poems,

On every letter;

But I fall further down my thoughts

In the thoughts of fallen grammar!

By: Phanuel Ayelum.


#Fallen_grammar #idealess_ideas #thoughtless_thoughts!

Like this poem if you liked it, Share and feel free to drop a comment…

You can email me at phanuelayelum1@gmail.com

Or follow me on social media in the links below :

Twitter|Facebook|Instagram|Pinterest

Posted in Poetry

At the time of writing (A poem by Phanuel Ayelum)

At the time of writing;

You are hovering in the atmosphere of my thoughts,

Beating in the cavity of my chest-

And in each moment, I’m taking notes.

In his citation;

The author of creation uttered you to existence.

I hoped my craftsmanship with words would “word” you closer to me,

Woe poor me, I’m still writing in your absence!

I am entangled in your web of words,

Your mouth is my greatest snare.

If you only knew the effects of your words in my world-

You’d utter them with much care.

At the time of writing;

Sunsets are red and I am blue.

Shakespearean poetry holds me

In the distress of missing you!

At the time of writing;

I only dream of happily ever afters.

But that’s at the time of writing;

I know not what happens after..

By: Phanuel Ayelum.


Alas! Yet another love poem ❀❀ Inspired by an amazing writer who is seemingly convinced that I’m actually good at this! In one of her comments :

No!! You don’t suck at it!!

Infact you are really good at this! πŸ’œ

Sheetalgarg runs a super engaging blog you WANT to visit! Coming from such a writer, it meant a ton!

Like this poem if you liked it, Share and feel free to drop a comment…

You can email me at phanuelayelum1@gmail.com

Or follow me on social media in the links below :

Twitter|Facebook|Instagram|Pinterest