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May 27 · 540
Palawan Beach
ryn May 27
I want to be there...

When the sun would shine
upon the ready sand -
and presents us gold.

When it spears
into the excitable ripples
of the water -
and gives us emeralds.

When it caresses
sun-hungry skins -
and gives them back
their lives.
I miss the beach.
May 26 · 454
ryn May 26
our mouths go dry,
our actions get lazy,
our anchors unmoored,
our directions change,
our bearings are misaligned,
our charts remain unplotted,
our complacencies swell,
our greed metastasise,
our ignorance nurtured...

How then,
would our story end?
May 26 · 558
ryn May 26
Words from the maker,
we hardly could ever hear,

Bereft of love and attention,
we see the diminishing concern and care.

We still pour our hearts
into this bastion we’ve held so dear.

But, alas, the kingdom and subjects,
have fallen into neglect and disrepair.
When did HP become a broken shell, a faint ghost of what it once was?
May 25 · 277
Last Stand (Her)
ryn May 25
She stands waist-deep in the tide.

Who knows what salt from her eyes,
has mingled with that of the sea.

She had called to him,
countless times before
in mournful wails -
as she does this night.

And she hears him -
faint whispers as if couriered by the crests
that sit on top of waves.

But it isn’t enough...
She longs to hear more.
Oh how she yearns with her rapid beats
to hear his calls as surely as she did
a lifetime before.

Water and love -
she knows she’s in too deep.

So she fights a fuelled fight -
one step at a time
with sand beneath her feet,
his voice in her ear
and the fire in her heart.

She’s getting closer to him
and she knows...

She smiles, submits
and finally disappears
into the welcoming ***** of the ocean.
A mirror piece - read “Last Stand (Him)”
May 25 · 293
Last Stand (Him)
ryn May 25
He stands -
his waist propped against the rails.

Who knows what salt from his skin,
would see the dawning sun
as the storm in the dark stretched
into forever.

He’d called out to her before...
Yet never against howling winds
and thundering bolts.
Still he calls to her now,
into the towering waves
and blackened horizon.

He doesn’t hear her like always...
Not this time...
For his heart is pounding in his ears,
and the heavy marble droplets
pelt him from the ocean and sky.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion,
still he fights - with tonnes of steel
beneath his feet,
the memory of her voice in his head
and the love in his heart.

He grips the the railing tight
and lets out a final cry into the night -
a last display of rebellion and resentment
to the gods.

He sees her...
He smiles and concedes defeat
as the vessel roars and creaks
before finally disappearing
into the ravenous belly of the ocean.
A mirror piece - read “Last Stand (Her)”
May 16 · 372
Marina Bay
ryn May 16
Cast in stone
and cement,
pocked with lights
from tiny windows.

Like towering tombstones,
they stood stoic
and expressionless.

Yet what was caught
upon the ripples
in the water
spoke loud and aplenty.

Silent voices
that recited nuances
of fragmented poetry
and character.

City by the bay...
Still but alive.
I miss the view of the bay.
Apr 22 · 837
ryn Apr 22
Trace the suns
that traverse the skies

Follow the moons
that try to keep pace

Count the ticks
that strike my clock

For you are the numbers
to the rest of my days
Apr 19 · 250
Errors Past
ryn Apr 19
A sack filled full, with the weight of many.

Back bent crooked with a head hung low.

Feet blistered from a journey of countless years.

Hands clenched tight yet with nothing to show.

Chest heaved laboured,

each inhaled breath - heavier than the last.

Eyes had stung forever,

bearing salt from errors past.
Apr 18 · 356
On the Wall
ryn Apr 18

stark -

Apr 17 · 311
Third Party
ryn Apr 17
If she is the sky
And he is of earth
If she spans the height
He is the girth

Where are you?

Here between these lines
Spoken but unheard
Seen but invisible
Once first, now third
Apr 15 · 315
ryn Apr 15
I swim amongst the many.

Churned amidst the chaos.

Blended in the crowd of Serifs,
Calibris and New Romans.
Strong-armed by the bold.
Submerged beneath the underlined.

But I will stand out...

If only you’d
keep me italicised.
Apr 14 · 360
ryn Apr 14
I will remember
the song that my heart
played percussions to.

I will sing the words,
with no one else,
to a song made for two.
Apr 13 · 360
ryn Apr 13
             What fool
      would saunter
into the blazing      
               fires forged by
      his own raging

               What others
            would carelessly
call sheer          

I call love...            

Apr 12 · 361
ryn Apr 12
My feet struck the earth
just as they did before.
I didn’t need to think -
rehearsed steps guided
my strides.

One foot in front of the other...
My soles tasted the concrete
with traction between lunges.

I was going places.
I was getting somewhere.

I wished I knew
where I was heading.
Apr 11 · 315
ryn Apr 11
I’ve had this snowflake.

Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.

Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.

So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.

In my fist,
forever it will live.

Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.

Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.

That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.
Apr 11 · 306
ryn Apr 11

ances p-
themselves at times most inopportune
• long-kept secrets  made known from
fists clenched loose..•the gavel in turn
fell a little too quick, too so-
on•the last piece to the puz-
zle granted as if it was boon•completi-
ng the picture... only to reveal a weary,
long s-

Apr 10 · 406
Hearts’ Folly
ryn Apr 10
Two hearts fall...

Into each other;

Into the sun.

Both had loved,

and both would perish -

in two graves marked as one.
Apr 8 · 409
Secret Treasure
ryn Apr 8
It bears a secret,
so immense and heavy,
it’s worth a thousand keys.

And laden like a million treasures -
all locked in a lone chest.

To write of it,
To speak of it,
But a taste of it,
heavenly bliss.

So I bear its secret...
One that paints grandeur
and weighs a lifetime.
And it’s worth my every breath.
Apr 6 · 293
ryn Apr 6
They’d arrived in sheets
As thunder clapped up above
Explosions on earth
Mar 29 · 425
ryn Mar 29
tears that run like a raging river...
carving into the skin and flesh.
herald the birth -
a gorge that eats into my heart.

see its wound...
look past its depth
and acknowledge the damage -
a beautiful destruction
that only speaks of
the unforgiving nature
of such salt laden streams.

laments that echo cries
of unbridled pain and hurt.
yet soothing like a hymn -
a sung and hummed
profession of loaded promises
and careless whispers.

a hurt that has latched,
etched permanent
and dissatisfied onto the heart...
a pain that knows no peace
because it’s known
limitless love.
Mar 22 · 361
ryn Mar 22
When a child throws a tantrum,
he’d cry and scream and wail.
He’d flail his arms and throw himself on the floor.

Like a child I have tantrums too.

But I have grown past the luxury where it is acceptable for me to openly showcase such explosive displays of displeasure and discontent.

So what do I do?
I have to carefully select words that possibly could capture the essence of the disquiet in my heart and mind.

And I pen them down in tears.

This is me,
and I’m throwing a tantrum.
Mar 22 · 522
ryn Mar 22
a cage

to keep
you out,

to keep
you in.
Mar 17 · 203
ryn Mar 17
What might set us apart
between mice and men.

Could be the hard choices
in which we must make.

A wise mind
with the potency of ink from a pen.

And a scale to weigh
the outcomes at stake.
Mar 16 · 834
ryn Mar 16
Leaves on branches
break away and blow free.

In search of hale
untrodden ground.

Seemingly sturdy trunk,
bent to a slouch.

Captive roots half-emerged
from its earthly bound.
Dec 2019 · 637
ryn Dec 2019
Might I fathom
the spaces between the seconds.

Might I plot
each mark on the map.

Might I track
the footsteps that I've left behind.

Might I absolve
the mind ensnared in a trap.
Oct 2019 · 1.6k
ryn Oct 2019
Cut me loose

     from these strings

          that bind.

So I might again

     exercise the freedom

          of mind.
Oct 2019 · 763
ryn Oct 2019
Chronicle these breaths.
And lay them naked
on paper - for the world
to see and judge,
like you know you should.

Dissect them...
With the sharpness
of your scalpel-like thoughts,
like you always would.

Fall in love with them.
Tag them with unspoken words
all too familiar.
Then cast them unto me...
When you finally know you could.
Oct 2019 · 1.3k
Skipping Stones
ryn Oct 2019
I am but a stone
just skipping across a body of still.
I get a taste
yet never fully drenched.
Not until I lose all momentum
and mobility - I sink.


And then drown.
Sep 2019 · 1.4k
Awaiting Her Return
ryn Sep 2019
A vessel set sail.
In the early call of day.
She lurched and bobbed,
as she moved across the bay.

From bow to stern
acknowledged by the morning light.
Her dew stained deck
- proof of restful slumber in the night.

With the earth’s fresh breath,
its majestic sail bloated full.
Her mast spoke in creaks
as wind and current made its pull.

A lone seafarer stood motionless.
His eyes squinted in the sun.
Deft hands on the wheel
as they steer and run.

Just out of the cove,
she’s now far off and seemingly small.
A silhouette about to disappear,
I await its return, when the sun begins to fall.
Sep 2019 · 1.1k
Into the Sun
ryn Sep 2019
as far as these feet will take me.
Moving with deliberateness,
laden with calculated purpose.

And knowing that every time each foot
successfully meets the earth,
I would always be somewhere new.

Each step would feel perhaps
unfamiliar ground,
shed new light, see fresh faces
and experience different days.

As long as I stay loyal to the course...

Always moving...

into the sun.
Sep 2019 · 1.4k
ryn Sep 2019
Open mind

but closed doors.

Take my breath.

And make it yours.
Aug 2019 · 1.2k
ryn Aug 2019
Force not,
the coming of the ink.

Judge not,
what you feel and think.


Then put nib to paper
and make your mark.

Let what flows
be brazen and stark.
Aug 2019 · 868
ryn Aug 2019
The exhale is a relief
as the heart in my ear
slips subtly away;
back into the emptiness
in the dark.

So again I fill my chest.
And I’d fill it full.
Again and again.
Until then comes
a deathlike sleep.
Aug 2019 · 1.1k
ryn Aug 2019
The words weren’t daggers.
Weren’t meant to ****.

They were spindly,
like needles.
But barbed.
So they latch.

I’m not grievously wounded.
Yet I’m still bleeding out...
Aug 2019 · 534
ryn Aug 2019
Open doorway
and there you stand, backlit.
Only feet away
yet too many steps too far.

A heavy veil of shadow
draped over your face.
Stand there, forever,
as I try to discern who you are.
Jul 2019 · 1.1k
ryn Jul 2019
Strings taut in my head
Set haphazard side by side
Detuned and off key
Jul 2019 · 605
Holding My Breath
ryn Jul 2019
Seconds pass
into an overbearing silence.

Holding my breath...

A lull in my chest -
nothingness that
seemed to stretch into forever.


Just a bit more...
before the lungs would relent.

And the heart would speak again.
Jul 2019 · 769
Beautiful Sound
ryn Jul 2019
Taking in this breath.
My chest would rise to its peak.
And at its crest I'd count the seconds...

Shhh, I hear my heartbeats -
sure but muffled as if enveloped
by a heavy blanket of the quiet
in the night.

A beautiful sound -
this clock in my body makes.
Whispers promises of continuity,
possibility and hope.
Jun 2019 · 1.4k
ryn Jun 2019
I proffer words
in an apology.

In hopes
they may turn the tide.

to the release of white doves.

So I might revive
a notion that’ve died.
May 2019 · 1.1k
ryn May 2019
Calm me down
        with the
               pitter patter of raindrops.

Whisk me away
        with the
               scent of petrichor.

Entice me
        with the
               promise of chance.

Lift me up
        with the
               hope of an open door.
Apr 2019 · 1.1k
Savoury Sweet
ryn Apr 2019
Do you relish the sound of the spoken word?

Do you savour the way it engulfs the senses
in a whirlwind of joy and despair?

Anguish and patience...
Doubt and surety...
Land and sky...
Beauty and darkness...

Do you drink it up to a stupor,
and only hope you had the laden voice
to even emulate a fraction of the splendour...

The tiniest spark of the genius
that comes so easily for those
who are one with themselves?

It's the honesty and truth.
The seed that resides within
the covering of sweet or bitter flesh.
The meaning and purpose behind every emotion,
and spoken word

- that has me ensnared

Mar 2019 · 2.2k
Day’s End
ryn Mar 2019
Mighty palette
in the sky.
Feast of pastel colours
of sundown.

Nestbound birds
sang up a cry.
Alone I sat,
grass-crested mound.

Inhale a breath,
exhale a sigh...
Pocket of bliss,
peace on earthly ground.
Mar 2019 · 1.2k
Van Winkle
ryn Mar 2019
•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept

a lifetime•
Mar 2019 · 1.1k
ryn Mar 2019
A nighttime recess.

An awareness embedded
within the thickened folds,
layered - one upon another.

Second upon second.
Minute over minute.
Hour after hour.

Rendering me unheard
and vague.

A stream of consciousness
that runs uncaptured.
Unexplained and unreasoned.

Consistent and tiresome.
Haphazardly predictable.

Routine like
Mar 2019 · 2.1k
ryn Mar 2019
What he didn’t say
with voice,
he spoke clearly
with tears
that never left

his eyes.
Feb 2019 · 2.0k
ryn Feb 2019
Grudges are
emotional mines.

Set to go off
at the slightest...
Feb 2019 · 881
A Day Amongst Many
ryn Feb 2019
This day is just a day.

A day that shines bright
outside my window.

I could see the unburdened footfalls
of passersby -
with their voiceless chattters,
and spring-loaded gait.

I could feel the warm breeze,
greeting my face as I stood
by the window, enjoying
its play round my hair and ears.

I could smell and taste
the crisp air - laden with chances
and opportunities.
Available, accessible and within reach.
Only if one so desires
to grab at them.

This is just a day.
One amongst many
that I had failed
to be a part of.
Feb 2019 · 741
ryn Feb 2019
If these fingers touched ink,
let what flows be
untainted and true;
unsmeared and sure.

If these hands mould clay,
let what is made be sturdy.
Be uncracked,
and smooth like porcelain.

If this body pivots upon legs,
let it stand upright and tall.
So no wind could fell it down.
But should it topple,
let no earth will it shatter.

If this mind invites another,
let no thought nor idea
adulterate its own...
For its ways may wind
and meander,
but it is obstinate.

If this heart still beats,
no matter how faint...
Let its rhythm be steady
and unrelenting.
So it might echo
through long days
and moonless nights
to find others like it.

I may not feel so alone.
Feb 2019 · 1.5k
ryn Feb 2019
and action
must go
hand in hand.

sugared words
are much
too brittle.
Feb 2019 · 737
ryn Feb 2019
I often see myself...

Sitting in the shade
of a lone old tree
set in the middle of a field,
on a warm, breezy afternoon.

Leaning upon the trunk,
I’d feel its gnarly bark
gently pressing into the softness
of my back.
Making it seem as though
in turn, the tree, too,
leaned on me.

As my fingers play
with the tips of grass
that grew lush around me,
I’d think of people I know.
And whom amongst them
would share this joy like I would.

I would spend many moments
concocting poetic lines in my head;
As my eyes trace the haphazard
flight of butterflies.

An occasional gust would come
and sweep up
the fragrance of nature into the air.

I inhale...


It lingers strong for a brief moment
before receding into the folds
and blending in with the smell
of the earth and freshly trodden on

Such a day would only induce
calmness and peace.
Such a thought would seem too far
to grasp.
But such a dream keeps me
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