Brother, you are so lucky...
To have a caring mother
Someone who's always there for you..
I Never met my mother, you see...
The times when you are lost
I feel that your mother was so nervous
And was happy when she saw you..
When I'm lost, no one looks for me, but i always find my way back home..alone.
Every struggle and every pain, your mother
Is always there to laugh and cry with you
Brother, you are so lucky...
Though, in every battle.. I fight it all alone
I've seen how men conspired against you, I've been there too and I feel you..
Believe me, without a mother to comfort you, you have to cry yourself alone to sleep...
Brother, you are so lucky..
That time when they wanted to **** you, drag you and hurt you
She followed you, wept and felt every wounds they inflicted on you..
During the times you stumbled, she was there..she saw it all..
She suffered the pain most.. You see, in all your journey, she was there...
But in all these, my brother, you are still lucky.. the time they nailed you on the cross and died, your mother was there to hug you.. all I wanted in my life is a hug from a mother...my mother...
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
She bows her head everytime she works
Patiently giving her everything
She never stops until she achieves perfection
Constantly shapes,molds and draws
Her canvas are the mirrors of her soul
She congratulates herself for a job well done
And smiles from time to time
Every genius must have a mother,
This greatest artist who inspires
Every greatest man on earth..
cora chan
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Naked he was, you clothed him
Hungry he was, you fed him
Cynical he was, you died for him
Sinner he was, you believed in him
Selfish he was, you shared everything
Blind he was,you gave him light
Ungrateful he was, you gave him the world
Rich and proud he was, you made him a ruler
Godless he was, you remained steadfast..
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
A dreamer knows no bounds
He slays dragons beyond his infinite horizon
Dives into his gigantic waves of emotions
And creates a mass of destruction
The chaotic world of madness
Like an untamed beast of forces
Overwhelming struggles to reality
Exploding secretly to eternity
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
dad left
for his second tour of duty
on my third birthday
mom kept
a jar full of jelly beans
on the living room coffee table
every night
she gave me one to eat, saying
"when these jelly beans
are all eaten up,
dad will come back home"
sometimes
i would sneak another,
to help dad come home sooner
one night
the phone rang
and i watched mom
wipe away a tear
as she filled
the jar
back
up
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
You are but a turmoil
...In my mind
Like vast clouds
Despising...
Dark
Elusive.
A gust of wind looming
From the horizon
A mystery to unravel
You are but a turmoil,
I have yet to conquer...
-cora chan-
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
I love rain...
Childhood memories
Sweet innocence
The fresh smell of rain
Dew drops like crystals
Fond memories of the past
Raindrops,a heaven-scent
Heaven sent from above
I love you...
Memories of you
Your sweet innocent smile
Your fragrant breath
Like a fresh new life
Your eyes sparkle like crystals
Rain speaks of our memories
Heaven sent me your love
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
Jigsaw puzzle
Jumbled words
Road to nowhere
...in Neverland
Crooked path
To hell and back
Chaotic world
...an abstract
LOVE,i can't fathom
Unattainable emotions
Elusive and hiding
Dying embers of passion
A mirage in the desert
Too far to reach
Scorching,burning...
As I turn my back to leave -cora chan-
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
Twelve o’clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said, ‘Regard that woman
Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin.’
The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Half-past two,
The street lamp said,
‘Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.’
So the hand of a child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child’s eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.
The lamp hummed:
‘Regard the moon,
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smoothes the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.’
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.’
The lamp said,
‘Four o’clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair,
Mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.’
The last twist of the knife.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC