她灵活的纤指初阳下采茶
露润嫩满的花苞引来蜜蜂
他无意中喝着带蜜的香茶
但对她一无所知毫无牵连
她专注地研究采茶的秘方
幻想着某人品茶悦心平和
他惊叹谁人茶艺如此出众
蜜香绕魂令君心蠢蠢欲动
Category: Poetry and Prose
Autumn Doesn’t Feel The Same
Today
The first autumn leaves fell
They remind me
of the warm sun
no more
Because
I scattered your ashes
on the last day of summer
Rancid Well
People drew essence
from his existence
They felt nourished
by every drop of him
Hopes and dreams
inspired his giving
He thought
wisdom never ran dry
Then doubt rained heavily
and filled his heart
overflowing with uncertainty
He started to speak
stale words
His well of knowledge and wisdom
turned rancid
People were wearied of his speech
and flet from his presence
Honest And Hard Earned

A farm girl decided to survive in a big city.
She tried all decent work to bring in income
to pay for their daughter’s education,
so she would not need to follow her footsteps.
She sold rubber sandals in the market.
She mixed cement, dug trenches
and laid bricks on construction sites.
She is 5 feet tall in sun tanned skin.
She rode on a 28 inch wheel bicycle
carrying an ice box filled with ice blocks.
She waited outside her daughter’s school
in many scorching summer afternoons.
Children swamped out the school gate
at the sound of the bell.
That was the best time of her sales.
Children were reaching their hands high
to pay for the ice blocks.
It looked like a vigorous bidding scene.
She barely kept up to collect the coins
while giving out the ice blocks.
Yet her eyes always spotted her little girl
once she appeared outside the school gate.
She reached into the bottom right corner of the ice box
to retrieve the special perfectly frozen vanilla ice block,
handing it to her daughter standing on the sideline.
She never kept any eye contact though,
for the fear of the children would laugh at
her little girl has a mother working as a petty street vendor.
She received great education opportunities
from her mother’s hard labour and vision.
Every time she sucks on a vanilla ice block,
her mother’s sun tanned forehead
soaked with hot summer sweat
comes into her mind.
The melting ice block,
her melting heart,
shows up as streams of tears
she is too proud to hold back.
– dedicated to my mother
Code Word
Prosecco in the chiller
French brie with rice crackers
Carrot and celery sticks
We were off to a picnic!
We walked a mile
deep into the curve
of the sandy bay
passed the nude beach
waved at saggy breasts and balls
We set up the sun tent
spent a Sunday morning
making out
But we told everyone
that “We are off to a picnic!”
My Eyes Behold You
He is goofy
and into Motown music
He got an old soul
like the oud wood
trailing behind long after
he left the room
I often
stand in a distance
look at him
through a stained glass
church window
At best
I manage to make out his silhouette
But
I see him
through and through
Simple Life
He is
a philosopher
a writer
a humanist
an advocate
The world swims
in his thoughts
Love coils
within his brain cells
He is somewhat
complex
complicated
confine in few
He looks
sympathetic
sophisticated
stoic
He enjoys
the simplest things
holding her hand
in the rain
kissing her
with sunshine in their eyes
simply
being with
her
2:44
I held on to your arms
Collapsing in the rain
The comfort I should had felt
Met with a cold embrace
I woke up drenched in tears
At 2:44am
Pushcart Prize Nomination

THE FIRST IS THE LAST
We are the first born of this land
But we are cursed
We are the tail of everything
Our land was robbed
Our blood was tainted
Our children were stolen
Our identity was denied
We bury generations of grief
Into drunken days and nights
Our refuge is the dreaming
Under the watch of our sky father
The only place we are the first
And his favourite
Writer’s notes: This poem is about the Australian First Nation Peoples (the Aboriginal Australians) who continue to suffer from the oppressed and persecuted past.
Understanding
Under different skies
rain threads them together
In different storylines
Characters sing to their minds
Writers write
Dreamers dream
Lovers love
They have found shelter
by knowing that
they exist
