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Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
Go on and open it
My diary
My book of
Poetry
If you will.
For you
Nothing is hidden
Exposed
And forthcoming
Every feeling
Is plain-spoken.
Either
You will read it
Right
If you do
Then
You will
Most likely
Recite
Each verse
As a fountain
Of goodness
Each one
Rhyming
With
A hunk of
Frankness.
My book is
Yours to read
For you and
You alone
To study,
To pore over
And be absorbed in;
You will
Interpret
Everything
Is as sincere
As it is;
I have not
Sprinkled anything
Nothing is
Beautified
Because
I have no
Details
To gild.
My book is
Yours to read
An open book
To you only.
This is
My diary,
My book of
Poetry
For you and
You alone
To see.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
It may be in the beat

Here I am thrumming
As I concentrate on
The lyrics

Grinning and
Almost convinced

Artists were thinking
of us while writing.

It is more than those
Love declarations

It is also the ones
With a message that
Is not dead on

I have the microphone
Hitting every note

Where I am punching
The air

I do not turn a hair
When that is all
I ought to do
Sing along
And dance moves
I want to share.

I have a playlist
All day long
Volume louder
Earphones on

Music is
The mediator
Between my heart
And yours;

Every song I hear
I think of you

Not just love songs
Not pop, jazz,
Rap nor techno

Every song
I think of you
Every song is
About you

You are
Every genre
You are my
Favorite
Song.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
When is soon too soon
A blow away
From popping
The balloon
Or am I waiting
Too long
Because I am
Anxious to reveal
Where my emotions
Belong

I doubt
Whether
It is right
But I have
Been feeling
Quite alright
I take a photograph
And I am curious
What happens to
The negative
When exposed
To light
Too soon?
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
I listen to my mother
Because she knows me
Better than
I will ever know myself
She will describe how I feel
No matter what situation
I am in
She reads me
Without ever
Misinterpreting
She senses what is best
Because my fleeing heart
Was always hers to protect
Now she listens to me
I have come to an age
Where my words are
An extension of her script
Tables are not turned
But I am her mirror
And I want her to treasure
That all I have done
Is for her
I listen to her, my mother
And she listens to my word
My sun and moon,
Our beating hearts
Yesterday and
Evermore in tune.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
Propelled to
Another time

Sparked off

By a sound
The song
Played
In the background

Stirred up
Shadows
Digging up
Old photos

A whiff of perfume
Sends
My memories
In fume

Swallowing
Moments past
Each time
I taste that pie

Another pats me
The same way
Calling to mind
What you used to say;

Some things
Become off limits
Affluent in
Stories
Spots in the
Ordinary
Transformed
Into
A minefield

Memories have
A way to ****
The present day
Dragged downhill

Then at times
I wonder
Why things I love
Are marred

Not everywhere
You left a mark
It is I that
Allowed you
To linger
In my light

Connecting dots
When there are none
Connecting dots
That do not belong

I cease to be
Far-fetched
Some settings
Are not affixed

Here I am
Once again
In front of
The same same

But I beam

For the best
Way to get rid of
Memories
Is to create
New ones

That only I
Get to freeze.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
I dreamt of broken glass
A paper thin cut
And a bleeding heart
It pains to endure
An imaginary wound
I stay sound asleep
But the torment is real

I sense a kiss
On my cheek
Am I dreaming
Or is this really happening
I cannot tell
The difference
Whether
My eyes are kept shut
Or I am here to wake up

I squeeze my soul
Then, I am sure
I am dreaming
Reality
And I am realizing
This exquisite dream

Everything is quiet
My heart is playing
Music

For once
I am synchronized
A rarity I highly prize
Your soft kiss
On my cheek
Suddenly a potential
Of gluing back
This broken piece.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
I cannot believe
I have not noticed before
When you have been
Right there all along
Every waking hour
Never mind the weather
I stand in front of you
In that silence of reflection
There is a token so true.

And I thought I had seen it all
Studied every single detail like my
Favorite painting on the wall
Then out of the blue,
When the color of the sky
Was everything but blue
Gawking at me
The tip of the tower
The tallest one in the city
Hovering over my shoulder.

It is ravishing, and a riddle
How I failed to spot it
Up until this second
And it struck me
I had been fortunate
Without ever minding it
Having had this view
Whenever I wanted.

Perhaps therein lies the mystery
Life filled with eye-openers
Even in the midst of certainty
Yet for all one knows
You are able to see
Clearly; only once you are
Truly ready.

Life piles up,
Each detail
Already beautiful
But such a different sight
A better one, that is right
After it dawns on you
The top of the tower is
Shedding the appropriate light,
Regardless how long it took
For you to figure out.

Now I see;
And I appreciate it
Much more lately
Perhaps because
Now I am ready.

You are the
Cherry on my sundae
The one that makes
My life landscape
More poignant
More significant
With each passing day.
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