You were charming, dazzling and enticing.
Exquisitely pretty but expiring.

Leaving me breathlessly pained by crying
O’er your dainty body, cold and spoiling.

Red rosy lips now painted colorless,
Was once tricky and luring to finesse.

Splayed down your deathbed, have you ascended?
Or your faith lacked ‘tis why you descended?

Say, are you up there or ‘neath the under?
Up the clouds or just a lofty lower?

You never asked me on what to agree,
You just did as you know I’d disagree.

How come you’re a mess but still so lovely?
How can you leave me so rushed and boldly?

How will I be mad if I love madly?
And how to move on if I love solely?

‘Tis so selfish to leave me by my own,
Not letting the desire I have, be known.

For now, let me selfishly imagine,
That you’re not just in your lovely coffin,

But is beside me, just invincibly.
Dotingly in love with my rough body.

Yet, it saddens me, my love. That leaving
me by my self without you and knowing

Now that pushing up daises for the bee
Is what you’re meant to be and not with me.

They were all looking at the bubbles then it popped.

“Argh! My eyes! Ma!”

“I told you, you’re not supposed to stare at the bubbles when it floats right on your eyes”
“But it’s beautiful and I see the mini-rainbows while it wobbles in the sky.”
The mother and the child went staring at the bubbles floating as they fly above the orange skies.
He blew another, carefully - eyes shining with excitement.
“Look, Mom! This one is bigger! I blew it slower than the other, this one will not pop.”

The cold wind blew with the ruffling of the grass as if clapping.
The bubble wobbled and wobbled on the orange sky
Passed by the resting sun, magnifying its beauty, it glittered.
The boy’s eyes shimmered in excitement.

Pop!

“Not again!” the boy sighed in exasperation.”
He asked, “Where do bubbles go when they pop?”
She looked at him intently.
She smiled, “they become the clouds, like tiny bubbles watching over us.”
“Why would they watch over us?”

“For in time, they will know that the sun will burn our skin, then they will come as rain.”

“Well, let me make more bubbles, so we can play with You in the rain.”


Don’t Forget the Bubbles

It was a weekend and I was in a mood
To reach my home as early as I can
I urged the wheels to start a friendly race
With the competing cars rushing around.

The sky getting dark, is it unusual?
I switched on the lights to make the way clear
Sun already hiding, behind the trees
Unable to bear the horrendous scene.

The leaves were silent and the mighty wind
The waves of ocean also stupefied
The nature remained as stunned and low
Heavy and gloomy, sadness in the air.

The beams of light while tearing the darkness
Suddenly found out two eyes so bright
From a small head that holding so high
From a small body already half-dead.

Her eyes were staring straight to my eyes
Calm and serene in their last minute
Piercing my heart with their emotions
Pity and sorrow and dismay and grief.

I turn the wheel to avoid the hitting
Risking my life and car to another track
But behind me, the vehicle of death
The one which she was longing so long.

Oh! Dear soul, I couldn’t forget
The bright little eyes that searched for pity
Like a brave soldier of a defeated army
Holding your head as high as you can.

I imagined the short life that you spent
In this splendid world of cruelty,
As a cute kitten dancing around
And following the little butterflies.

Full of fur, your body was so white
And a long tail, waging in anger
You chased down the tricky doves in vain
And the little sparrows that fly around.

Vibrant and vigil, your life was so full
Until your clock stopped ticking
I couldn’t sleep, the eyes are haunting
Close your eyes dear one, I’m lamenting.

A familiar shore

they’ve known before.

A pink sea shell

with a story to tell;

the memory it saves

in the sound of waves;

in wondrous lands

they hold up hands

as love is home

& time is sea foam.

It is love in mist

with a tragic twist

and woven fates

as time awaits.

Their souls are sinking

Listen, they’re singing

euphoric elegies

& resonant apologies.

They close their sight

on broken dancing light

in deep ink ocean

in still worded motion;

embracing for infinity

as their love an eternity.

.
We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,
                                                      ­  ­        
Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.
.

The building they lived in,
called home,
became their tomb,
became the weapon that broke
their bone,
took their lives.

But their stories have to
survive,
This City won't let you forget
about those
you were meant to protect.

I was actually looking for a room
but found myself
on the fiery streets
CRS batting the flames
as politicians took their seats,
business as usual
but the people stood in refusal
Feminists Familes and BlackBlok
Yellow Jackets Housing Groups
round the clock
only the holiday period
could douse the fires
and I went back to mother
the pressure smothered

How long is your attention?
Remember: this is a poem for the dead

For those who were crushed as they slept in their bed

Merry ******* Christmas
instead.

Sometimes, the thought of you brings a bout
Of unprecedented, palpable, anguish.
So visible and unveiled,
I touch it and I bleed.
Sometimes, missing you is
Like swallowing broken glass.
Clear shards that rip my flesh
Draws blood and
Ignites a white pain,
Seething and choking and blinding.

Tonight it is warm,
the air is heavy with summer,
With laughter and blessings
And memories. Reminiscence.
My eyes are orbs,
Glassy with tears and
Stinging with the force of
Grief? Or regret.
The breeze is tinged with
Your laughter and
Every time I inhale,
It aches.
An ache that runs deep
It twists in my gut
Like a knife that
Clenches and drains
Everything good from within.

My hands are frail
I grip in them a
Photograph; of you and I
We are young, carefree
Wild and happy-
That moment was captured
And now it burns,
It's embers are the sunset
It's cinders are etched within.
Now, there is no peace-
You are silent in the grave
And I am silent in grief.

I suppose the
novelty of life wore off
Once I had lost
Everything;
Now in this summer
Evening, I
Sit alone and seemingly
Unaware that my life
Is billowing by,
And the years will run like
The stream in which
Your youth drowned.
Grief is an intoxicant,
That I crave and love
And fear and hate.

The sun seethes,
Smiling a polished smile,
Razing down my hope for
A happy, fulfilling
Life.
What life?

I pluck from the bush,
That mother tended to for
Endless summers,
A rose.
Bloodied and yet pure,
It nestles into my finger like
I propose to it a throne,
Of some twisted kind.
It reminds me of,
Your charisma
And joy that once
Shone in vibrant rays
Like the ****** sun does today,
Your beauty that emanated,
In beams and stunned all who saw,
And now these rays of charisma,
And these beams of beauty,
Are hushed.
Still, alone, and quiet.
Like you.
Like I.

And this nightmare
Dressed like a daydream,
Rages before my eyes.
This solitary rose,
That sat ever so dainty,
And gorgeous between
My frail hands,
Begins to wilt.
It's crimson hue,
Like love and honour,
Turns grey, and black
Loses its life and
Before my eyes another
Unfinished life is
Snatched. Torn. Stolen.

I wonder if,
Your soul came to say goodbye
In that mere rose that I
Watched wilt and wither.
As though whilst
Each petal waved farewell
And floated to the soil with
Their brethren,
You too were,
Wishing me goodbye.

I let the tears flow now,
Heavy and unforgiving,
Weighing me down,
Granting me peace and
Wrapping my thin neck
In a noose of pain,
A loving embrace.
So this,
Is goodbye?
I feel not,
The promised elevation
Of forgiveness and release
Instead the
Ceaseless throb of
Darkness and grief.
But she came,
She came to say goodbye,
And that is all I ever needed,
All I prayed for,
Begged for,
Goodbye.
One last,
Goodbye.

I had a friend;
we journeyed life together.
Down a dark and winding road
we made our merry way.
The trail was long,
with many holes and pitfalls.
We took our bumps and bruises
and we swallowed our dismay.

I had a friend;
we spent our evening hours
playing our guitars and singing
songs both old and new.
And at night's end
we'd shake our hands and promise
our friendship would endure
and we would always see it through

     But time has a mystic power,
     it turns saplings into trees;
     and its river made a canyon -
     separates my friend and me.

I had a friend;
helped me through tribulations,
and I would be there when
he needed company.
But life goes on,
and our two trails soon parted;
left nothing for each other
but songs and a memory.

    For time has a mystic power,
    it turns saplings into trees;
    and its river made a canyon -
    separates my friend and me.

That friend I had,
out of touch for more than twenty years...
I saw him yesterday
in a little place downtown.
His looks had changed,
perhaps a little paler
in his softly padded bed
with his friends all hangin' round.

     For time has a mystic power,
     it turns saplings into trees;
     and its river made a canyon -
     separates my friend and me.

     For time has a mystic power,
     it turns saplings into trees;
     and its river made a canyon -
     separates my friend and me.