Can't remember when
I chose the path you didn't take.
You two entwined vines,
the lone willow on my path,
all that's ever left of you.
Our roads crossed again,
briefly but seemed long enough
to look at your watch.
Blossoms dancing on your path
which's everything of you.
The thing growing in her
She did not understand
She watched the pregnant women
In the waiting room
She wanted to push them over
The window, the stairs
Each and everyone of them, Wiping out
That conceit from their face
That's some reason to be happy about
Instead of joy
Its tiny hands clawed at her, Twisting
Cold sweat, she started on her bed
She looked at the slump next to her, Dead
To her panting and growing fear, Lost
In his smug bliss of rubber of holes
She remembered staring at the surgical lights
Wide open eyes
The blinding lights did not hurt
as much as
When they emptied her
She broke into a run on her way out
Shivered despite the warm sunrays
She threw up nausea on the street
A nausea at her different colour
At not being a hero
At him who thinks it's her problem, not his
Nausea, she tattooed on her skin
She will never be rid of
Boy had a backyard filled with rolling hills
Few neighbours to play with time on his hands
He laid seeds of vision upon these land
Didn't forget to water dedication
At night he lied on bed thought of his seeds
In the day he perched on top of his hills
Watching seeds grow into green emeralds
Generous boy fed his neighbours these greens
Hustle and bustle soon became these hills
Happy with his hard work and its newness
The boy spurred his neighbours to follow suit
Seeing the sparkle in his eyes they nodded
Gifts of his vision conceived on his world
He now sat in his backyard with legs up
His children drinking coffee next to him
Had other ideas 'bout kampong expanse
Interestingly enough, nine years
Away from hometown of my youth
I still learn from the kitchen dance
Her slender graceful leg
Her divine hip -
The small-waisted spatula
She feels unseen rhythms of stir frying within her
and reverberates a ballon on the warm metal floor
Twirling around with her geometric lines
Her body is taken over by
Crescendos of translucent onions
Orbiting jumps in searing meat
She finally falls onto the bed of frying rice
As the lid of lights descends at perdendo
She bows, closes her eyes
And let the heavy curtain of water
Washes away her sweat
His new baby's eyes
Its mother's mouth
Crescent of laughter
A field of bliss
A designer of homes
He sleeps in on workdays
Society won't give him work
An outsider, invisible
Like a rock among rocks
Milk bottles
Rice bin
Mouths
Marlboro
Dark shapes of his duty
Swallowing his vows
It's the only thing to do
So it's the right thing to do
Thirteen tiles before his eyes
At Pong!
Dwindling money in the drawer
Has to be returned
The bristles on his neck, wet
He closes his eyes
At Kong!
His friends look at his hardship
Indentify with him
Just because it's not theirs
At Zimo!
Jets of blue smoke
flush pleasure through alarm
Selling out her love and hopes again
Doesn't seem the right thing anymore
How does he go forward now
Wake, from my dreams
The dried tears readied me
For today I escape, I escape
Clothed, in ten yards
Of red cocoon
Of golden phoenix arising
Pricking at my skin,
At the girlhood I now leave behind
Sit, in red sedan chair
A moving bamboo cage
To another empty walls
Breath, keep breathing
Sing, the rain and the wind
Before his white slab of stone
The earth receives me
In its furrow
Tapering away like my life
I bind our bones with red string
In the wedding of butterflies
(Neil Gaimen to Terry Pratchett)
Will you make me laugh again
As I fall, grasping
Time suspended in the air
Will you make me laugh again
And set it right
Wiping the gray from the sky
Falling into the world you have spun
I see you again in your black cloak
With all your white anger
Underneath those twisted trees
Angel and demon hand in hand
You take my arm and say
WE MUST WALK TOGETHER
Making each other laugh again
No
Likes No
Comments do not
Get depressed. This is
A challenge not a competition
Your opinion matters most. Of your
Own work do not be ashamed. A
Work in progress is every poem here. If
It is lost in the rush, remember those moments
When the lightbulb lits up, your racing heart and Sweaty
armpits. Exhaustion is like a perpetual hangover but passion keeps you
wide awake. You feel like dance after you hit the post button:
Today I wrote a poem and tomorrow I'm going to do it again
Chorus springtime water frosty
Behold hurry foliage tawny
Solstice transform bosom sorrow
Enshroud woodland allure borrow
Unfaze blossom scarlet scatter
Stratus maple crimson alter
Billow pinions swallows stature
Flimsy wing-robe winter endure
Ensue aster rampage advent
Seedtime rasure lotus absent
Golden ebbing Prunus boomer
Springtide arrest jailbreak never
