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 6d Eryck
i used to write about beautiful things
like sunsets and beaches, dewdrops on leaves
crisp pages in a new paperback
a mother's love towards her child

i still write about beautiful things
but my perspective has changed to
the twisted beauty of
faking smiles and teardrops on cheeks
lonely roads leading nowhere
a happy childhood, now a distant memory
Trees cry deep within
We-unable to hear the sound
Barely brushing a leaf
Knowing it responds happily
Exchanging breaths
Forcefully accepting the water
It was given from above
Pulling it in so it can survive
Even a few drops it cherishes
Roots go deeper than you can see
Protecting feeding beauty breathing
It does it for you
It does it for me
My heart never grew naturally
My feelings always seemed mixed
Not quite my own
And here I am
Once again in a jam...
Named after their experimental grower Rudolph Boysen, the boysenberry is a cross among the European raspberry, European blackberry, American dewberry, and loganberry.
My mother came to live with me
In the not so long ago

My family and friends
Looked at her

With her baskets
Her boxes of paints

And reacted to this tiny
Wizened woman as if she had
Just crossed a savanna
And wanted to trade
Berries and  nuts
For sugar and coffee
Or barter beaded art work
Or furs she skinned herself
For a fast food meal

I loved my mom.
They all loved her too.
She was delightfully droll
And had no filters
But her words were ever kind
I know I will see her again
Someday, someway
 7d Eryck
Is there any buddy out there?

Am I the only one?

Could this be the end?

Is this site said and done?

Shall I post 1 million words and read them to myself

Shall I write 1 million poems and place them on a shelf

Within the womb
With in the mother
Have I yet to discover
Light beyond the darkness
Forcing me to breathe
Is there anybody out there
Or am I all alone
Life is but a dream
We cannot control
Too saddest to tell you
today on this First Day of Spring
my Daddy has his Birthday
he cannot sing
not today nor tomorrow
you'll ask me why?
decennia ago he suddenly died
not of any stroke nor heart-ache
just wanna remember
that Today just One Day after the Northward Equinox
he'd have his celebrations
never congratulations anymore now
not today nor tomorrow
this is not a poem
just a statement
a human document
of one of the most gifted fathers
aquarelles, poetry or feuilletons
even performances at William's Theatre
his weekly sequels of the loving
and living Charlie Chan
besides earning much money
as the top-manager
of STANVAC, Jakarta
that big oil-office
with the red Pegasus
my Daddy climbed its back
and never returned
remembering his Birthday
emotionally on his epitaph
how odd
The Start of Spring
One Day Before his BirthDAY
the annual Northward Equinox
has just passed his graveyard
keep smiling is not here today
but grieving will be okay
he'd be no more a part of all celebrations
even though where he now is
he remains my Dearest Daddy and all there is
I remain,  still with the greatest admiration

and his part of heart
still beats in mine....

Anno Domini 21 March 2018
No Daddy, this is NOT A POEM
just a simple statement from your darling daughter
a greatest lost, this multitalented father
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