all things impermanent

20191008 | emotions 

i wrote a love letter 

to a very good friend

boy was it hard to 

pick up that pen

waves of emotions 

highs and lows

worries, insecurities

screw them! i was bold

your smile, so sweet

it makes my heart leap

your beauty, incomparable,

even the azaleas will weep

have you been told

that your heart of gold

warms many other hearts

brings warmth to the cold?

yet what truly stole the show

is your inner strength,

maturity and charisma 

your everlasting scent

thank you for giving me 

this chance to write to you

yes, you did not feel the same.

but that’s alright,

it is the courage that matters too

emotions, core of our humanity

they demand strength

you acknowledged my emotions

we discussed them at length

i treasure you even more now 

my emotions you did not trivialise

so let me immortalize our friendship

20190526 | Lauren

Her gaze, intense, 

like ocean tides

crashing like waves

of deep emotion

Flowing 

her umber locks

call for wind

perfumed with the scent

of Laurel vines

Waft after waft

of dark green moss,

lost among fringes,

of her soft grey shawl

Soft were clouds 

gathering like smoke

Stoked by fiery hues  

She awoke

She is Lauren

She who woke

from a gaze so deep, 

Yet discreet

The gaze was hers

and hers alone

Tending to her garden 

Of hope

.

,

,

20181221 | La feuille qui tombe

.

.

my first attempt at writing a poem in French. Je n’ai jamais écrit un poème en français, mais j’adore la langue française 💋alors pardonnez mon français s’il vous plaît, c’est ma première fois :)

.

.

La feuille

Elle vieillit

Dans les lieux, vieux

•

On déambule

Seule

Le temps précieux

•

On veillit

Sous

Les yeux de Dieu

•

On joue avec

Des mensonges

Pieux

•

Oh

Mon cœur

Allez-vous mieux?

•

On rêve

de grandir

Dans le royaume des cieux

•

Des larmes

Tes larmes

Dans mes yeux

•

Mes lèvres

Elles disent

2018/0827

cat lady

there’s a cat lady 

so i heard

purring names 

of her gentle creeturs

whiskers tickling

tears trickling 

alone she’s spurned

how taciturn

she seeks, meets

care, conceit 

at least they don’t bite

2018/0807

bloom

i am but the white rose

you plucked too soon

rose i am no longer, 

still i bloom 

still i dance 

like dandelions do

still i blossom 

in sweet sunshine

     noon

meander i will 

in dirty dreams,

    depths

like roots of oleander 

odious,

   Odette

emerging as lantana 

on your lilac lips

rosa to datura

oh so doomed 

tainted, i was tattered 

still i twinkle

like poppies, periwinkle

little

lethal

wither, wither 

in guilt, in gloom

you had me gasping 

2018/0708

my sun

i was at the museum, admiring this artwork by Affandi (b. 1907, Indonesia; d. 1990, Indonesia). the work, completed in 1950, is entitled “Burong Hitam, Matahari, Manusia” which translates into (Black Bird, Sun, Man). The artwork encapsulates the artist’s philosophy: “Matahari hidup saya, dengan tangan saya bekerja, dengan kaki saya maju” (”The sun is my life, with my hands I work, with my feet I move forward”). 

why have you no tears

while all beneath you

wastes away?

searing my skin

scorching those seams

resplendent rays 

so relentless,

rogue

the world’s aflame 

with the fire 

of hatred

of violence 

Your flame

Estival

Your fire 

Eternal

trudging beneath you

in pain and sorrow 

you dry my tears

dessicate my sorrows

Lead me 

to your desert

Paradise of desolation

a Place that all 

and nothing shall be

bury me cold 

2018/0529

new times 

it’s time 

for the new times 

for other ideas 

but now it’s my time

so listen, my dear

in His time

He delivers 

those He holds dear 

but it’s our time

our cries 

can He hear? 

Lies of the new times

Lips of Old

devouring 

all those crimson hearts 

of gold

no time for ideas

carnal desires

mired in swamps

of worldly fire 

tell me 

what so new?

whose ideas?

if all that we do

2018/0526

thinking about tables and chairs

i saw a table, surrounded by a few chairs. then i thought about the meaning behind tables and chairs. it was a nice table, they were lovely chairs. empty table, empty chairs.

table, chairs

for us to share

a meal

so sumptuous,

scrumptious

and precious

a moment

so rare

meant

to be shared

a moment

so warm

a heart

so worn

warm and worn

like the hands

that cradled

like the hands

that caressed

cuddled

and cared

but

so difficult it is

for us to care

for us to share

for that heart

to bear

table, chairs

empty and bare

cold like the presence

2018/0515

thinking about the mentally ill

i had an encounter with a mentally ill person. i had a choice. i could have chosen to treat the person just like any other of “their kind”. but i chose to rummage through that pain, heaps and heaps of clutter, and what i found was a person, a voice.

there was so much anger at the people who tried to silence that voice, anger at the tongues who lapped up so much gossip, at the eyes that despised. there was so much confusion, so much pain. 

i listened. i couldn’t empathise because i wasn’t that person. i couldn’t understand because i wasn’t that person. i just tried to be kind. then i wrote “i and i”. 

look at me

come to me

can’t you see

it’s so tiring

to be?

listen to me!

hear my screams 

i want to be normal

i want to be clean

waves of gossip

tongues as tides

crashing into me

my dignity, destroyed 

don’t care for me

no need for your empathy 

who am i to ask you to listen?

who am i to ask people to be kind?

it’s just me 

and these hands of mine.

i never know what they can do,

i never know what they will do,

all i know is that

they are always there,

wiping the tears i cry

so dry

my, my

i just don’t know why 

why i is so scared

2018/0508

thinking about the tired sun

it was late afternoon in a Vietnamese countryside, just me, my thoughts and “the half-covered sun”