this is the moon's
quiet rose, the unfolding
of the clouds, tranquility
resting her head,
the beautiful sea.

There was Rebecca,
And there was Jon.
Rebecca lived in a peaceful neighborhood,
Where the wind blows through the trees and the sidewalks were brittle.
Jon lived across from her,
They never spoke, never glanced, never shared a laugh.

Rebecca was sporty, very loving, and loud,
Jon was poetic, mellow, and very quiet.

One hot summer evening, Rebecca was sitting on her front porch picking pedals,
Jon was leaning against his window, drawing tallies on his wall.

There was a moment of silence,
Everything stood still.
Jon turned his head towards the window to the sight of beauty,
Rebecca, sitting on her porch picking pedals.

Her burnt-sienna hair glistening in the sunlight,
Jon's eyes were locked in place, he was drowned in her bloom.
Rebecca looked up, locking eyes with Jon.

At the same time,
They stood up and glanced at each other.
Jon racing down the door while Rebecca jumping up from her porch,
Her pedals fluttered off her dress.

Across from each other,
They both walked up till their noses touched.
Rebecca's hands locked in Jon's,
Jon's eyes were lost in Rebecca's.

As the days went by and the weather shift,
Rebecca and Jon were inseparable.  
Jon would pick petals with Rebecca on the porch,
Rebecca would sit by the window writing poems with Jon.

The more time they spent,
The more tallies appeared on Jon's wall.

When the skies became grey and the wind was ice cold,
Jon couldn't pick pedals with Rebecca on her porch.
There was days when Rebecca couldn't write with Jon at his window.

Jon would stay in his room,
Twenty more tallies covered his wall.
Rebecca was sick at heart,
Lingering in her house.

That didn't stop the love between Jon and Rebecca,
A month flew by.
The snow started to thaw off the grass,
Everything became greener again.

Rebecca was ready to write at the window with Jon,
She wanted to pick pedals with him every second.
Rebecca wandered onto her porch,
She didn't see sight of Jon at his window.

Her thoughts start to worry her,
She leaped from her porch and scurried across the street.
She ran through muddy puddles and skimmed on the dewy grass,

Rebecca knocked on Jon's door,
No reply.
Rebecca's days were lost and sorrow,
She felt no life in her.

When summer came back around,
Rebecca was back to picking pedals by herself.
She looked up to see a surprised guess at her porch,
Jon's mother.

Rebecca, with all love and respect,
Jon is now walking on the other side.
He's where the sun shines brighter,
It's been months since he's been ill.
Jon's been counting the days he's lived,
It was only 122 days, counting the tallies.
The more you came over,
The more it was hard to hide.
He was pale, undernourished,
Too sick to come out.
The thought of telling you was too grievous,
He didn't want the love to end.

The mother walked away,
Giving Rebecca her moment to grasp.
Even though her love for Jon was bare,
122 days was all she needed to know she had someone special.

She promised herself to always pick pedals on her porch every summer,
Just for Jon.

Boys are weird!
Us girls will never understand them.
They scuff their knees up and walk out the house with tousled hair,
Can they ever think before they do?
They swing, climb, run, and jump on everything!
Just stay still.
Boys will be boys,
With dirt on their faces and cuts on their fingers.
They stick gum in girl's hair,
Carry slimy frogs in their pockets.
Their appetite is atrocious,
Are they gentlemen deep down?
Boy's language is all washed up,
They'll call you hot instead of beautiful.
They're full of burps and hung up on videogames,
Wrestling in the house every second.
Do they have a nice side?
Dads will keep a good eye on them,
Making sure they're good for their daughters.
Boys never stay like this,
They grow up to eventually become a *man.

No matter how much your skin tingles, or your face heats up,
You can never stay mad.
You'll throw a fit and say the God's sins,
But you never mean it.
Your hatred boils and overflows with the rage and anger of a thousand devils,
It goes away.
You forbid to speak the truth and blame your anger on the innocent,
You know you don't mean it.
Your mind doesn't want to open up and see life differently,
Eventually you do.
No matter how much pain and integrity you're in,
Your grudges are temporary. They'll never last.

I remember that wonderful lady like I remembered the scab on my right knee.
She was from Georgia, a honey sweet peach that lived a blocked away from me on Summer Set avenue.

She was as white as snow and fragile like my mom's glass figurines.
She always wore her long bleached grey hair in a pull-back tight bun,
almost like a nun. She would always wear powdered makeup that seemed to be brought from the 50's,

Very pastel and brittle on her gentle old skin.

She was humble like the bees, soft talking too.

I remember every early summer weekend I would walk on down to that lady's house.
I would knock on her burgundy shiny wooden door and peek through her small window filled with cat-like collections.

She would let me in and treat me almost like I was her own.
She would sit me down on her floral sofa and whip me up my favorite treat,
Oatmeal baked cookies with a tall glass of hickory sweet lemon tea.

My favorite.

This lady was everything and anything.
She would wrap me in her quilted blanket and play some classical 50's tunes,
We would swing on her back porch and count the Blue Jays in the sky.
I loved the way she would tell her magnificent stories,
The way she talked sounded like soothing waves of the seven seas.

I loved her.

Her deep, poetic advices gave me hope,
It made me realize my inner self.

As the days became weary and the summer sun was drifting,
That wonderful lady was getting weary herself.
She was able to hang as long as anyone I can think of.
At least she stood her grounds and fought for every penny she made in her life.

What a trooper.

I'll never forget that wonderful lady,
She was like a grandma to me.
I actually felt I had someone to talk to during those long summers.

What a wonderful lady.

When I look to the night sky

When I look to the night sky
Leaving the panic world behind
In the dominion of starry nigh
I travel to the galaxies so high

Stars are dim in the moon light
Goddess Moon is on the throne
Her majesty is on the height
And the surrounding glows bright

Every star has its cosmic world
Too different than the earth
Which looks pensive and absurd?
As no groans and pains are heard

All are busy in their specific role
And they never fatigue
To locate their concerned goal
Neither they stay nor they stroll

I was in the romantic shroud
But the groans of my world
Explodes the balmy veil of cloud
When someone calls my name aloud



To a Butterfly

O' short lived butterfly
Ye live forever in the dale of beauty
Spreading about the rainbow of colours
Thy honeydew makes saline moments
Of the spectator, sweet and manna
When thy reflection in his eyes
Gets a forever protection…
Monarch like expedition do you make
From country to country
Crossing the boarders of brooks
Meadows, deserts and spiky paths
And occupy the states of gloomy hearts
Diurnal ye are as a man
But stop! There's a wide gulf
Ye console the weary heart in the long run
He grants weary heart to the consoled one



Materialism….

He is not just a countryman of mine
Even we have a same boundary line
But many years turned into history
Our looks remain a part of mystery


Hunter…

To brothel Cyprian goes
And priest to the Church
What's there for them
They are in search

Tis' a Chance that evaluates

In the game of luck and doom
There is crash there is boom
Some win without action
Some actions lack reaction
Some fall in exertion
Some succeed in desertion
Some defeat in holding seat
Some triumph in their beat
Tis' a chance that evaluates
Success and defeat are just baits

The black cat
cried out loud
to the moon from
a place where she
couldn't be seen.
But from the sound
of the lonesome melody
i knew that autumn was here.
I never imagined that
death could be beautiful
untill i saw the falling leaves.
Red,golden,brown.
And I started to fall while
the crickets were singing
on the gentle breeze.
Months have passed.
I can't remember the
last time when i got lost
in my own thoughts,
staring at the old wooden
clock as the hands stroke midnight.
I feel like a bird locked
in an iron cage, desperate
for the freedom the sky offered,
although there was the
blue vast underneath.
Those who harbor their dreams
to be alone must have forgotten
how it's like to be lonely.
The air outside was poisonous
and not many gems
were sprinkled.
But the night sky does not
possess all the stars.
Some of them simply
belong to the sea.

in my dreams i'm in a car
and i'm driven like a star
the crowds yell their adulation
elated i soak in the adoration

in my dreams nothing is impossible
and everything is just so possible
the hapless ones whine their malice
undeterred i rinse the silver chalice

in my dreams the prize of my longing
is the open door through which i'm going
though my goal is a starry distance away
i trudge on and do not mind the drudgery

in my dreams i cling to the elusive sweetness
of a myriad near-misses and close shaves
and time like a dream keeps on flying,flying
into ethereal worlds unknown in fancy blue

in my dreams  the sun's always shining bright
the clouds are always fleeing life's warm breath
and i'm like the messenger that never arrived
with the good news of life for all who labour

in my dreams the sound track is melancholic
it is played in low dignified notes that mourn
a past that has become the miserable present
and cry about a future that is temperamental

in my dreams everyone has a dream come true
and everyone weeps till they can weep no more
the silence is spiced with occasional sighs
and deep words that never die ride the wind