Poet Felix Menda

Felix Menda

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Felix Menda Quotes

A man existence is punishment enough, he can feel lonely, sad and mad sometimes but what makes one a real man is what he stands to be now for the future.
Rage kills one's eternal Make one heart buried to the deep where there is no sky for the lost soul.
Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up while the brain empties, I admit the mysteries of love.
As days goes and moves on , the love from those we loved deminishes because of no good communication in-between.
Sociophobia kills someone's confidence, there are a lot of fear apart from sociophobia that kills someone's personality.
Respect is earned the moment you respect others the way you want to be respected, but there are some whom you respect but looks down on you.
Love hatches by time, nourished by moments covered by mesmerizing smiles, but yet it is easily lost.
Love has been the non stop spoken poetry of all time, but yet it's easily lost as love too is an infinity war.
The hardest part of life were the things you could almost reach but for some reasons couldn't reach.
Perfection is not very crucial to someone's life. But what we love out of perfection is what matters.
May the weakest one ROT IN PEACE and the strongest one REST IN PEACE.
How cute can you fall in love with your soulmate? It's magic now I love her.
"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, A lovesickness pouring words that overflow from the heart spring,that quinch thirsty the moment they stick words on the piece of paper".
Silent days , quite days indeed makes one's mind come with bigger thoughts .. transforming ones mind..

Write your comment about Felix Menda

Divona: Congrats Felix God bless you
Faith: You have good poems sir
Michael : Ur awesome
Michael : This is fireeee
Grace Anthony Mwaselela: I love your work, what you write is reality touches the society , inspires and encourages ,keep it up ...
You fit in this Felix!!!###
Gift Julio: Nice uwe mtunzi wa mashairiii unafaaa

Poem of the day

Sidney Lanier Poem
Tyranny.
 by Sidney Lanier

'Spring-germs, spring-germs,
I charge you by your life, go back to death.
This glebe is sick, this wind is foul of breath.
Stay: feed the worms.

'Oh! every clod
Is faint, and falters from the war of growth
And crumbles in a dreary dust of sloth,
...
Read complete poem

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