Category: Poetry and Prose

Silhouette

I had no idea till you told me that you had cried for over a year for the filth and shame happened in the old house which was covered in ivies.

I had no idea till you told me that you decided to break the silence because you couldn’t bear to see your son withering away with collapsed veins.

I had no idea till you told me about the sin and crime committed for three generations still robbing you and your children of a chance of peace.

I had no idea…

Now I understand why you appeared to be over sensitive, defensive, jumpy and sad all at the same time.

Now I understand why every time I saw you off, your silhouette in the street light is always frail and heavy laden.

Now I understand.

*This piece is written based on The Living Poetry prompt word – Silhouette

清明

春天
我踩着绒雨
向山里走去
脚下的黄泥
混着树的翠绿
沉淀着天的灰蓝
故人的墓地
栖息在满地的黄菜花
我舍不得扒开
这么娇美的装饰
就如你出嫁时的抚媚
你洞房的红烛还在弦乐舞蹈
我按住竹篮里的沉檀香和衣纸
害怕美好的回忆被打扰
更怕我的眼泪勾出安息的你

In spring,
I walked on the velvety rain and headed for the mountains.
The yellow mud under my feet mixed with the green of the trees and the gray-blue of the sky.
The grave of an old friend was covered with yellow flowers.
I couldn’t bear to tear them apart.
Such a beautiful decoration reminded me of your wedding day.
The red candles in your bridal chamber were still dancing with string music.
I pressed the sandalwood incense  in the bamboo basket.
I was afraid that the beautiful memories would be disturbed.
I was even more afraid that my tears would evoke you who was resting in peace.

Numbered

Magnolias broke out at below zero, blushed, hung on naked branches.

For one long year, half heartedly, I accepted defeat over the quarter you bet wearing a devilish grin.

With satisfaction, you drew an infinity on my wrist with wet finger, marked the beginning of a decade’s promises.

A dozen yellow roses wilted on the teak table where conversations, laughter and passion are still lingering.

The bare magnolia tree, shamefully, stretches out towards the winter sun.

Struggle No End

I wanted to work
I really did
Earning a living
Putting bread on table
I desired to work

I turned up for my new job
At lunch time
I got nervous
Eating two pieces of white bread
With butter and jam

The last straw
Was by the watercooler
They asked about my recent holiday
I freaked out
Sweating profusely
Embarrassed
I fled the building

I wanted to work
I really did
I tried and tried
Still failed the 7th time

Sitting on my porch
Pating my dog
She will be due soon
I desire to work
To feed her and her cute puppies
I really do

Secret Garden

This piece of writing is in response to Denise’s six sentence story prompt word – Dream.

I want to ride a cloud to your bedside
and make it into a silky soft pillow
for your overthinking head to rest on.
I want to sing love songs into your dream
of thousands of sunflowers in Tuscany.

In response, you flicker your sickle moon lashes,
mumbling an affectionate language only we know.
Even the nightingale stops singing and listen.
Touch-me-nots open without shame
waiting to hear the interpretation.
The secret garden comes alive.

Magaya

Meet me in Magaya
on the hottest summer day
in your yellow sundress
and fedora straw hat

Let’s cool down
by the windows
watching the ferries
coming into Paros Bay
while sipping Sangria
and Watermelon Agua Fresca

Magnolia

The winter morning frost
clear the runway for you
to parade on the bare branches
Magnolia!
You set the trend
by opening the Spring show

Island Siesta

Pink blossoms whisper to the suntanned mosaic street
without disturbing the cat’s siesta
under the blue and white island breeze

Pain

Via Cola di Rienzo
an iconic thoroughfare
runs from the Vatican City
to the River Tiber
There stands a tree sculpture
It witnesses the tourism driven prosperity
and Roman workers’ everyday struggles
I name this piece of street art ‘Pain’

Modern Ruler

Standing on the esteem
of a general and statesman
Watching the ancient ruins
and civilisation beneath
The gull is the most free
ruling the modern atmosphere
over all prominent figures
and architectures
stretching from the Colosseo
to L’Altare Della Patria