Poems mean a lot to me
indeed a very lot you see
the society I live in
is reflected in all the lines
  love is very important almost a sin
and the always one glasses of wines
  
the best medicine for our health
they say is also wealth
but I regard love is the most important
remember I am human not a mutant

love is the best for our life
it is obvious that we must strife
love is like the present wind
that blows constantly so tender in
through my thirsty body and mind
I reside in this country oh so kind
  a country full of peace, plenty of place and love to hide
that's why I have my domicile here and reside
 
 My beloved likes reading and traveling
we have seen parts of the world a very lot
I have other kinds of interests, like painting
writing essays, listening to music, and praying to God
building websites, designing cards and yes
conducting PC Help desks, accounting, telebanking, and playing chess
in London and Serfaus, going to musicals and skiing,
along the Mediterranean sea, enjoying life, making love while driving

how do I do that, d'you really want to know, dear?
while whatsapping, walking, running, and the music to the ear
really very simple, your love in you, your whole soul in there,
just like our parents using tupperware

but ah, I like most to describe the love in poems I write
then posting them for your most beloved after that heavy night
since love is so important in our life
you must not take it for granted but must strife

we can't miss it in our life its function
like: though sometimes on our highway a junction
it's like the great water of the mighty ocean
it has grip on you, you feel the strength, but it's your addiction
the strong water's ripples too, its mildness
you demand the best, the most but never less
and remember for ever that in the country I live in
the kind of love I'm so addicted to, is never a sin
in the end my heart and being will constantly say Amen


© Sylvia Frances Chan
15th August 2013 -
5.21 hrs a.m. WETime

Towering boxes full of days
are hidden
by the lies you hold inside
your feelings.  
They whisper louder
with each year that passes
sending your happiness
a reeling.

Alone, becomes the key
to your sanity,
yet burns a hole
in the palm of your heart.  
You find yourself angry
at everything,
trapped,
as you linger
while your world
falls apart.

You have fallen asleep
inside the shadow
of loneliness
those towering boxes
provide.  
Tip them over with the truth
resting inside you
and wake
where happiness hides.

My joy is worn thin as are my fine clothes
I still recall their colour
like the scent of sweet days
A dove might fly to a white house
but what flies to grey and grim
Forgive me if too long I lingered
where the swan glides and poets dream
I would awake and seek a weaver of cloth and words
and the house that remembers warm and kind
but the stones and walls
were broken in the clamours of the earth
and the loom lies stilled