"frangipanis" poems - Hello Poetry

I was lost And not found I wish I had screamed Before you'd put your earphones on But I, I Couldn't scream the music Your ears needed to hear I was a parasite In a womb of an 11 year old lady Whose father called an exorcist Instead of hugged her and said it would be okay I remember what she said when she was my age: Nothing, my child, nothing would be okay It was a volcano Who gave her a flower crown Made of frangipanis and carnations Stolen from a cemetery --her mother's And every death will always mean strength For the earth My heart beats in staccato But, you don't care anything about music, do you? It was my favorite song Played over and over and over And over Like what you'd said about the duration of love It's over, my dear And I wish I had screamed before you'd put your earphones on

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Apr 25, 2014

Apr 25, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC

Pea

A Wish, Paused

I was lost And not found I wish I had screamed Before you'd put your earphones on But I, I Couldn't scream the music Your ears needed to hear I was a parasite In a womb of an 11 year old lady Whose father called an exorcist Instead of hugged her and said it would be okay I remember what she said when she was my age: Nothing, my child, nothing would be okay It was a volcano Who gave her a flower crown Made of frangipanis and carnations Stolen from a cemetery --her mother's And every death will always mean strength For the earth My heart beats in staccato But, you don't care anything about music, do you? It was my favorite song Played over and over and over And over Like what you'd said about the duration of love It's over, my dear And I wish I had screamed before you'd put your earphones on

27

1. I am optimistic enough this day clings to the highest mast, is now born out of prophecy. I pass by the old mirror: see myself: blear myself: is blot to canvas, slit from the wrist of this home: I witness how it is to sustain beatings. 2. In the empty lot, age 9, we wrung frangipanis and ruined the pedicle somehow a map of a history where this ground shook that was once an old cathedral. We blew bubbles out in the haziest of days, pallid and droopy the clouds identify in their short collisions – the stream that was the sky the face of my mother when found news of my would-be death 1996, Kawasaki my mother's clutch on the soiled linen beginning an autopsy 3. I conjure a frayed upon image of death in its colloquial. a fractal of mistakes taken as righting out. I sense prognostication when potential for a satisfied framed encounter or out of luck that was a night making all of this less than total. I remember the discoloration of the many lights – the sky beginning an erratum: this could have been your last – what is exacted here like a tarot, the culprit a newfangled man in the rearview mirror. 4. How can I forget you – all of you? You wear light like karsunsilyo. You are all flowers I arrive at a contusion of gardens. Rinse me with light – abandon me after. 5. Made air staler. Dew my maiden when lit from the matutinal – in tow, a bedraggled kite soaring in the heat one distinct summer, wish it pure that was I, almost touching the vermillion, my faintest image of freedom was a bird trapped in between the venetian. 6. In a dream, I am pursued by a train in an alley – in the next scene, I am being forced to take a plunge into a chasm: the fall did not scare me – but my acquiescence made me flinch: standing before space, anesthetizing the skin so it made me more than metal, the clangor suggests a tragedy. Awakened by violent nudges from my mother: it was the New Year. Pyrotechnics paint the sky over and over an ephemera in the bleak behemoth of this: a makeshift home ruined by untranslatable music the sound of rain at 11 in the afternoon and a nearby funeral.

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Jun 2, 2016

Jun 2, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC

windsor-i-guadalupe-jr

Cataloguing Triggers

1. I am optimistic enough this day clings to the highest mast, is now born out of prophecy. I pass by the old mirror: see myself: blear myself: is blot to canvas, slit from the wrist of this home: I witness how it is to sustain beatings. 2. In the empty lot, age 9, we wrung frangipanis and ruined the pedicle somehow a map of a history where this ground shook that was once an old cathedral. We blew bubbles out in the haziest of days, pallid and droopy the clouds identify in their short collisions – the stream that was the sky the face of my mother when found news of my would-be death 1996, Kawasaki my mother's clutch on the soiled linen beginning an autopsy 3. I conjure a frayed upon image of death in its colloquial. a fractal of mistakes taken as righting out. I sense prognostication when potential for a satisfied framed encounter or out of luck that was a night making all of this less than total. I remember the discoloration of the many lights – the sky beginning an erratum: this could have been your last – what is exacted here like a tarot, the culprit a newfangled man in the rearview mirror. 4. How can I forget you – all of you? You wear light like karsunsilyo. You are all flowers I arrive at a contusion of gardens. Rinse me with light – abandon me after. 5. Made air staler. Dew my maiden when lit from the matutinal – in tow, a bedraggled kite soaring in the heat one distinct summer, wish it pure that was I, almost touching the vermillion, my faintest image of freedom was a bird trapped in between the venetian. 6. In a dream, I am pursued by a train in an alley – in the next scene, I am being forced to take a plunge into a chasm: the fall did not scare me – but my acquiescence made me flinch: standing before space, anesthetizing the skin so it made me more than metal, the clangor suggests a tragedy. Awakened by violent nudges from my mother: it was the New Year. Pyrotechnics paint the sky over and over an ephemera in the bleak behemoth of this: a makeshift home ruined by untranslatable music the sound of rain at 11 in the afternoon and a nearby funeral.

46

Fill my heart with white daisies And I know the sunlight will heal me Just like the pouring rain who cried for the tears I couldn't let out I will grow jasmines and white frangipanis in front of my window And I will talk to the ghosts And they will tell me what I see when I am asleep --- Fill my heart with white lilies So in the nights when I can't bear moonlight I know what lets it is just my sun And I will mend And I know morning will come soon

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Aug 10, 2014

Aug 10, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC

Pea

morning will come soon

Fill my heart with white daisies And I know the sunlight will heal me Just like the pouring rain who cried for the tears I couldn't let out I will grow jasmines and white frangipanis in front of my window And I will talk to the ghosts And they will tell me what I see when I am asleep --- Fill my heart with white lilies So in the nights when I can't bear moonlight I know what lets it is just my sun And I will mend And I know morning will come soon

25

Soft scents of new frangipanis Waft gently over evening sprinkles Tasting sweet orange Kumquats Under green canvas umbrella (@Puchong, December 2018)

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Dec 10, 2018

Dec 10, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC

wyle-tan

Kumquats and Frangipanis

Soft scents of new frangipanis Waft gently over evening sprinkles Tasting sweet orange Kumquats Under green canvas umbrella (@Puchong, December 2018)

5

You asked me, To fall in love, With the brightness of the moon. You asked me, To fall in love, With the colours of frangipanis. You asked me, To fall in love, With the blue of the sky, And the shine of the stars, You asked me to fall in love, With the giggle of happy children, You asked me To fall in love, With the teenage dream, But instead I chose to, To fall in love with you.

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Sep 13, 2017

Sep 13, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC

unjustifiedfailure

To Fall In Love

You asked me, To fall in love, With the brightness of the moon. You asked me, To fall in love, With the colours of frangipanis. You asked me, To fall in love, With the blue of the sky, And the shine of the stars, You asked me to fall in love, With the giggle of happy children, You asked me To fall in love, With the teenage dream, But instead I chose to, To fall in love with you.

17