You make me smile
Till the lips curve
Into crescents
And eyes become slits.

You make me smile
Till the nose goes up
And the spectacles come down
And the cheeks rise like tides
With laughter lines.

You make me smile
Till the pearly whites show -
A toothy flash
Though sometimes, no.

You make me smile
From ear to ear
From here to there
Like a rainbow in the sky.

You make me smile
From my face to my toes
And toes to my knees
You make me smile
And long after
Somewhere,
The smile
Stays within me.

The lightning crackles
Like a rattlesnake rattles
The sun burns weary
evaporating the teary
The soul unfolds in sin
squeezing life out of wind
Stay down upwind
of my ginaceous grin
My favor is South
always South . . .
by Southwest

I am the embodiment of your life
the shoulders of your deep sadness
the wrapped arms of your burden
the warmth of your coldness
the breath of your sighs

the atmosphere
when you are near
to be living again
then

I'll sing my song for you
just for you with that refrain
in the midst of the night
will you not be so sad again

the rivers are overflowing
it's still monsoon-time, baby
where will we go with all these liquid
no scrupules, I'll fix it

I'll read you a poetry sublime
about the poet who writes about food
who never be hungry again
never have a grind
man unkind
to break or crush the notes

please do never forget
I am the bottom of your bed
the handle of your doors
the candle of your fires
I am the embodiment
of your desires....



© SYLVIA FRANCES CHAN
Copyright Protected

after he read my poetry online
in the darkest café while drinking wild wine
he copied the full title of mine poetry
“Saddest about the poverty nowadays”
and instantly emailed me,
that I started talking about politics

I thought he could read poetry
but….I was mistaken

my loved one never knew
the alienating appearance of this blind male

I wrote about true poetry and its poverty
he associated with politics
once again here I repeat my last poem’s title
“Saddest about the poverty nowadays”

his unwanted eyes are peeping constantly
copying my poem, the constant liar

he read mine poetry
I wrote about the poverty
instantly he started shouting about politics
just like this male person

he has that poverty I have in mind
about vocabulary, grammar, and all that kind
I thought he could read poetry
I was mistaken

he was peeping constantly
at mine poetry
I wrote about words, nouns
the present and the past
and all the tenses
it pained all my senses

when he accused me of politics
of yelling at innocent persons
shouting at innocent poets

not mine strife in this forsaken life
I am suffering from pain
restrained

I thought he was clever
I am now mistaken forever

do you wish to know who is he?
a constant stalker, an insane talker
alienate appearance


© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected

On to my Queendom, he comes
he thinks he could reign me
that was his greatest mistake

he thought he could read
I too thought that he could read
but I was mistaken

mine loved friend said he loves to read
I too thought that he loves to read
it seemed so, it looked so
but I was mistaken

after having walked amongst this poverty
I must conclude in tears and tragedy
this is the worst and most tragic comedy
I ever knew after my literal study
(contin.on Part 3)


© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected

The poverty I am saddest about
( his shoutings about politics )

…..he read that online
mine poetry about this poverty
the stupidity started scolding me
declared instantly me-moi as its enemy
its words, so absurds
a lunatic so terrific

not its area nor its section
I oft write in Dutch and this is mine declaration

I do now one step lower
From “it” I step a bit lower down to “his”
his profession does not read poetry
but he thought he could read
poetry poesy and poems

true very pity
not his art nor his profession
he meddles in everything
mine poetic wings, not his thing
(contin.on Part 2)

© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected