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May 2022 · 119
Within the emptiness
By the windowpane, I sat and closely stared

at myriad droplets of rain,

trickling down the cold plane,

twinkling against a dark eerie terrain,

They came from heavy clouds,

oblivious to what their fate allowed,

the sound of their arrival so loud

as they formed a cheery crowd,

I became a witness to a serene sight,

in spite of the stormy chaos of the night,

each other they joyfully invite

to march down an unknown path,

would it mean their demise or their grand prize?  

With awe, I slowly traced,

a cold finger eager to chase,

a journey to behold and embrace,

until it became a memory that is never meant to be erased.

Over, by the windowpane, I sat and softly stroked,

yellow pages of a blank note,

the journey of the rain had suddenly invoked

dormant thoughts time had stubbornly cloaked,

My pen started traveling an empty road,

etching words that smoothly flowed,

through the rivers of my inner thoughts,

plunging into a journey filled with doubt,

a journey filled with doubt and a passion that will never burnout
May 2022 · 105
Carried by the smoke
when "everything" is gone and nothing remain
purposely thrown into the fires and flames
watching them slowly dissipate...do we feel comfort or do we feel pain?
smoke rise and carries them away, far to the land of no return
the heart no longer bleeds, but still it feels lonely and in need
I'd rather be the one who gets carried away...and leave "everything", here, for the existence to contain
I'd be gone and "everything" would remain....
gone with space and stars as my domain...where I have free rein instead of restraining chains
May 2022 · 88
Broken dreams
This warm night has never been any colder
for my heart gravely wonders:
is tomorrow's day worth living under?
why, we do struggle against the shackles.. against shackles that refuse to shatter
wary dreams they slowly crack, until they no longer last...
thick poison creeps in between, fed by the day that hold our dreams
gone they would be...gone when million gentle eyes shift over...and get replaced by an accusing glare that blister
and so, I pray for the souls that dwells, hidden and safe, within the night's embrace:
"May the night bless you with unbreakable dreams, for they shall help you remain sane"
From behind locks and hidden keys, our souls stalk relentlessly,
bidding time that wont surrender easily,
on knees we kneel, our hands try to conceal, the fissure that wont simply disappear,
from a surface that once used to be so clean, but now reflects a distorted shadow so unclear
but within it we can still see blazing lightnings.. we can still hear mighty thunders.. and clouds that bleed boisterous anger
blood drops down on the carpet, as our hands try to collect the jagged pieces
we feel precious pearls fall down from our faces, and a sudden earth quack that shake the surrounding spaces  
glancing out from our revealing windows, we see a quite sole witness
a smear of white on a sheet of gentle blackness, like a pretty painting on a canvass
calming our troubled conscious, and giving us another purpose
and so we claim it, this beautiful unfading constant...a dream to behold, with teeth and claws
a dream that sails down the stream of our broken dreams
a dream that will keep us sane!
Now, this cold night has never been any warmer,
as I set and ponder, in front of the sea of wonders
the wind carries their whispers, whispers and answers
our eyes gleam in laughter, and we dance for the dream we captured
we have finally found a constant anchor..a dream that lives within our broken dreams
May 2022 · 109
Within the flutter
fear not what the clouds carry
seek not what the earth buries
envy not what the storms easily destroy
forget not what the sun deploy
greed not for what the seas swallow
cry not because of the weak and shallow
in yourself always remember, there is a treasure hidden under
so plunge up the sky, and grab everything that flies
'Light' dwells in your heart, to remind you not to fall apart,
to keep challenging to keep smiling
to be embarrassed not of passions
and shamed not of any desire
and always....to fear not what the clouds carry...
Jun 2017 · 567
Lost and found
I find myself yearn for the grass’ sighs, as they meet your breezy strides;
For a whiff of that blush Sedum you plucked and gazed at.
The sight of it must have wrecked your heart,
for you smudged its petals with salty beads as you cried.

I wish the wind could whisper in your ears, you’re not alone, I’m here.
I wish you could know, how basking in your sorrows helps me grow.
I wish I could hold your hand, and away your shadows to command.
Then watch, as you wallow in my comfort, and I in your hurt.

But first, I need to be found.
I need to know I can be a source of comfort to wounded souls.
May 2017 · 631
Bad faith
The mask I wear is but this skin of mine,
They find it unbelievable to have this much shine,

Is it through a fault of mine,
one can't assume to see the shine?

Or are we so weary,
to see ambivalence behind every disguise?
Do you believe I can be my true self with you?
Or do suspect deceit from every true?
May 2017 · 342
Contrast (Part two)
The same newspaper...
A picture oozing guileless joy

Eyes wide with laughter, eyes filled with happiness;
Hands clasped together, feeling kinship with each other;
Happy tears rain down on cheeks, frozen in this colorful sheet;
Loud cries of delight, silent and muffled in my reality;
Big bright colorful light cover the expanse of the background, not adding much beauty to the sight at hand;

Chaos and order dare not to stand side by side, they would rather mix together and collide;
There is no need to breach any peace, its already within a hand's reach;
Children yearn not for peace, but for a chance to be part of a celebration delivered by peace;

Nothing would be more sweeter than to remain in this blissful state;
Determination marked their faces, but only to win fame and prize;
Dancing, and reading national poems should be admirable, but it balks when at contrast with my previous sight;

Haplessness engulfs me yet again, where am i needed here?
Where can I make a change?
I could add to to an already existing happiness, will it be fulfilling?
How Can i make something complete, more complete?
Where is my purpose here?
I settled for a prayer,
For such happiness not be stolen,
For the children to always delightfully smile, to know nothing of the horrors of war;

The picture remain as it is, nothing to add...nothing to extract
If you read the first part of Contrast, you will know where the contrast is. This is a continuation of my newspaper rifling, but this time I find a picture of happiness. The poem is a description of it.
May 2017 · 273
Contrast (Part one)
A newspaper..
A picture oozing desperation..

Eyes wide open in horror, eyes filled with terror;
Hands clasped together, seeking console from each other;
Sad tears walk a path down on cheeks, frozen in this white and black sheets;
Silent cries of agony, loud and clear in my reality;
Green trees cover the expanse on the background, softening not the sight at hand;
Chaos and order stand side by side, divided by a barbed fence to keep strangers at hand;
Peace is so close to reach, yet its so hard to breach;
An extended hand through the fence's opening reach, cries for help and beseech;
Defeated children stood on higher ground, wistfully yearning for a safety beyond the line to be found;

One land they share, the same landscape everywhere, divided by that one line there;
Nothing would be more sweeter than walking to the other side, to be engulfed in the safety of the other land, to stumble across its ground;

Defiance marked the eyes, determination marked their faces;
Climbing over barbed wires, is a thing to admire;
A hole in the fence surly is an offense, but the notion balks under constant threat of imminent death;

Helplessness engulfs me, so to my mind's fantasy I flee;
I grab them all in the palm of my hands, transfer them to a far away land;
To a place where they live in peace, nothing to drive them away from a home that ease;
Where I can see smiles on children's faces, nothing to steal away the innocent race;

Again at the picture I look, and my mind excitedly shook;
The picture remained, and the people no longer were in pain;
For the picture only contained, the land, the trees and the barbed terrain;

It became but a picture of a landscape, a speck of history draped in mystery.
I once did the mistake of reading through a newspaper, and stumbled upon a sad heartbreaking sight of war and desperation. The poem is a description of the picture I saw.
May 2017 · 749
Eternally
It has always been me and you and the tide,
All my thoughts and truths to hide;

tugged between the line that divides,
the sad still and the forever mad;

This moment I decide,
weather to be the wave or the sand;

As the vast sky sang its sleeping lullabies,
I woke up with million hanging eyes;

I watched them beckon me to their foreign land
So I left thorny black roses behind,
their dark secrets poisonous to my gentle heart;

I once exposed my hells and heavens,
the one I shared with my only treasure;

I exposed them to various unsuitable figures,
and never had I felt more unsettled,

And so I swore,
to vigorously guard what I preciously bore,
and only reveal it to my other soul;

So, dear pure soul,
sing for me,
cry for me,
laugh for me,
dance for me,
rage for me,
and pull me to your white world;

Rain down on me, your sparkling white roses,
let me swim between its endless soft petals,
intoxicate me with the scent of it all,
spin me around until I become whole under its cover;

And I shall eternally remain, regardless of sand or wave,  
a single black rose, in the field of all your white roses
I don't like to think I'm gullible or naive, but I have a patient tendency to give others the benefit of the doubt; to trust them with pieces of myself. So, I end up with hurt in my heart when I'm eventually betrayed or maybe when my romantic idea of a person shatters.

This poem is dedicated to my lover, and to anyone who has that one person whom they can rely on. The one they turn to to feel safe in in an embrace. It is dedicated to the ones who untie all the confusion one feels in their hurt, the goodness and badness clearly identified, the line clearly defined.

In gratefulness, I, we, will be eternally yours! For you bring warmth and solace to our world.
May 2017 · 668
Letting go
In a water filled room, there float air filled white balloons,
Highlighted by the stars and the illumination of the moon.
Calmly they move about, carrying other men’s delights;
Suspended in motion but animate with spoken history.
Do they belong to me? It’s hard to say,
Though with a breeze of force I can call them all back to me
Flipping through them like the reminiscent pages of old memories
Some dear, others unclear, but surely they taught me how to tranquilly be here.

The sentinel that is the ‘All Seeing Eye’ strolls lazily with a golden scepter in hand;
A magical Lotus ring serves at his command.
Claimed they are, trapped not in balloons and sealed jars.
Alerted by sudden ripples in the room, he hurries to the sound of an imminent gloom.
A well out of nowhere blooms, sprouting endless vines and thorns; dancing to haunting melodies and tunes.
A from in front of him appears, commanding and with a face that sneers
Hypnotized by the sound of the beautiful sadness, he feels himself surrender his scepter and Lotus.
Though remorsefully he weeps, for letting the fear seeps, and letting go of precious keeps.
Where to start, to retrieve what is lost?
Perhaps back to the beginning, towards white balloons that keeps spinning afloat,
Only then…maybe only then will I give in to the sweet surrender.
I wrote this few years ago. Reading through it again, I realize it doesn't make much of sense. So, it must have been the rambling of an imaginative mind. If I'm to interpret it myself, it is about letting go of painful memories and surrendering the fight that is too scared to let it go.
Sometimes, we find comfort in pain, especially if we lived with it for far too long. I think it's because it's familiar and thus gives a sense of false safety.
At the time, I must have decided to let go and start anew.
May 2017 · 377
To belong
Is it wrong to want to revoke privileges handed to me by birth? The glamour and sparkle is a temptation few can resist. Who wouldn’t? After all, it is given at will on silver-plate. There is no need to exude any semblance of an effort. Oh, the delight, a dream come true!

Is it wrong to want to reclaim that which is forgotten? The exhaustion and struggle is a journey few are willing to take. Then again, walking a desert of a muddy swamp is never easy. There is every need to be weary and suspicious of what lays beneath. Oh, the horror, a contemptuous nightmare!

What a fool I am, for treading the dirt. Much more of a fool for the glee I have in my heart. For I have met you and lost you all the same; my memory of comfort, my all reflections and my reasons to love.

A place to belong, a haven for an otherwise yearning soul.
Some of you might think this poem is a longing for a homeland, but I wrote this poem after a friend disappeared from my life; a friend I met unconventionally. I came to the realization that nothing remains the same; that the people who matter come and go in our lives; that the crossing of our paths take different turns, breaking, thus, a bond of friendship and belonging.
Despite the sadness that is felt by the separation, I chose to cherish all the good memories and delight in the fact that I have found, at some point in my life, a place where I felt I belonged. And hope, that one day, I'll find it again elsewhere for there is always a yearning for more!
May 2017 · 236
Expectations
Enjoying as I always am, my solitude by the river. Trickling my fingers down a cold stream, a gentle gleam on its surface.

Enjoying as I always am, moments of quiet silence, disrupted by the sightings of the usual travelers.

Involved as they are in the clashing of paths, finding footing and stones to grasp, swearing or enduring, mocking or revering, all are alike.
A distant observer I am, watching the unraveling of time where victories are born, and failures pitifully scorned.

Vigorously, you came upon me with excitement in your eyes. You nestled beside me and pointed a finger at the scrabble in sight. ‘Not again’ I said to myself, with trepidation and anticipation just the same. ‘Go’ you said, ‘join the foray’.

You sang your promises so smart, and I unwittingly opened my heart. For I, can’t quench that hunger for more; for the endless possibilities and for that one bond.

And I knew, oh I knew I would tumble to my knees. Perhaps even get my heart diseased! For you are both my perpetual downfall and relief.

You, my intrepid Expectations.
No matter how many times I remind myself not to expect anything from others, I unwittingly fall into the trap. It is not love and appreciation, gratitude and attention I'm looking for from others. I just want to know there is an innate goodness existing in a person. Needless to say, it's an unrealistic notion  and more often than not it's met with disappointment.  Yet, there is that part of me that can't resist, that can't stop hoping, to one day meet those individuals who are made of goodness!

So, I'm willing to hurt if it means joy at the end of the journey! And believe it or not, there is contentment to be found. I just need to brave the darkest depths of  the search. :)
May 2017 · 330
Healed
Just as I curled in my ball of warmth, murky clouds came forth
With a petulant frown on my face, away the clouds I try to chase
Still above me disturbing my peace, I yield the fight and cease
A wounded heart I carry now, but these clouds I can’t allow!
To mend and heal, I need these clouds to peel!
Pained I look around, for a weapon to be found
Upon a pen I chance, and a flicker of hope I glance
Swiftly I snag a sheet, and witness my fingers scribble a feat
Once my frenzy came to end, my peace slowly recommenced
Now a contended smile on my face, the heavy clouds have been replaced
Cool breeze ruffles my hair, and I inhale rejuvenated air
Back to my ball of warmth I curl, my eyes close, and in comfort I twirl
There are times when I'm kept awake at night, thinking of all I did...or failed to do during the day; all the things I should and shouldn't have done/said. Being critical of oneself is unpleasant, to say the least. Having no one to express my troubles to, I turn to writing. I tend to write when I feel overly negative, and unconsciously I find myself creating a piece of writing that fights this negativity. It is true what they say about creation being a source of inspiration and relief. It gives me strength to move forward and appreciate the things I can't change! To just accept.

— The End —