L.H. Grape

L.H. Grape Poems

L.H. Grape Biography

I have never thought I would find myself in so deep connection to my writing. As a kid, I was never into books. I didn't read rhymes. I was more into sports and performing arts. But my father was a musician. He wrote and composed songs. I loved his craft and was proud of his works. He wasn't a poet but he was a songwriter. Looking back, that is one factor I think I could associate my love for words. But still, I never wrote a single verse as a child. In high school, I noticed my love for language. Figures of speech make my day so bright from simile to metaphor to allliteration to irony and synechdoce. Then I started to learn how to write love letters. Still, nothing close to the complexities and depth of poetry. So how did I end up becoming a poet? Life. Poetry became a part of my self-discovery, silent expression, art therapy, and as a means to accompany my lonesome life as I grow. I see verses from a bus window. I hear rhyme from an urban garden. I scribble lines and notes in my mobile phone. Then one of the most admired business tycoon in my country got to read my work and affirmed my poetry. He made it so sincere that he started calling me Mr. Keats (from one of my favorites- John Keats) . Then I knew I really am called to be a poet. Faith. My most important treasure in life. My faith moves my life. My heart moved by faith tells my hands to smith my words into poems. In a nutshell, I write poetry feeling that living without poetry makes living less worth living at all.)

The Best Poem Of L.H. Grape

Orad Sin Cesar

For solitude and sadness
Are unending, even pain.
They come like thieves.
It frightens and threatens.
Likened to a living,
Its face is all but blur.
It feels trapped within you.
It feels it has power like cloak
To grasp and envelope you
Until your mind wanders,
Your heart inflames,
Until droplets of tears
Force its way out of your eyes,
Until the comforting silence
Becomes deafening and
You seek another’s voice.

For solitude and sadness
Are unending here, even pain.
They emanate more viciously than thieves
And linger until you drop to your knees.
Drop to your knees.
For solitude and sadness
And pain are never unending.

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