My Reasoning

You didn’t live in my yesterdays.
You love me today.
I don’t see you in my tomorrows.

Isn’t love enough?
It isn’t enough when it doesn’t last.

How do you know it won’t last.
I saw your eyes.
They wandered.



The city in Spring was filled with misty rain.
You kept reminding her to take an umbrella.
But she always left without one.
You became her outdoor companion to keep her dry.

Summer storms came and went without warning.
There was no way you could prepare for that.
You gifted her a poncho tied with a yellow ribbon,
hoping it would keep her from the downpour.

One day you saw her running around a giant tree
with symphony of lightening and thunder.
Finally the epiphany hit you.
You were in love with a girl
whom you knew little about.


arcachon basin basin of arcachon beach blue
Photo by Pixabay on


The Living Poetry prompt – Angry

you little spark
I am sorry that
I keep denying you, rejecting you
blaming you for ruining everything
you suffer for my immature behaviour
will you forgive me


happy women hugging

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on

Unfailing Heart

her heart endured a lot

it was once
provoked to anger by betrayal
broken as a result of blunt rejection
too tired too weak to respond
bled out to a slow death

and yet
her heart is still
imbued with passion

macro shot of heart shaped cut out
Photo by Engin Akyurt on


The day you packed your bag
You took away my freedom to breathe
The spring bouquet smells anosmic in shades of grey
Turning my face to the sun takes me a morning of energy
The afternoon is occupied by staring at
the morning coffee stain on my t-shirt you once wore
You left me with a lone pathetic shell in zombie distain

Your Poetry

How can I
take in all the splendid scenery in one day
taste the world’s delicacies in one travel
appreciate every blooming flower with one season
comprehend every piece of art in my life time

Reading your poetry is an inquisitive journey
Its richness and mystery evoke my intrinsic curiosity
Once I open the wondrous door to your art
I am completely absorbed in the marvel of your words
How I wish the door to reality was left hidden
Time and space become ambiguously irrelevant

You may experience Gabriela’s wonderful poetry here

Fifty Shades of Darkness

The fossil site was burnt to charcoal long ago.
The remain of tar grease smells leathery.
Sable branches drape off the ebony.
The jet black raven croaks at the inky cloud.
Furry spiders find their way into the midnight hollow.

Photo by Cassa Bassa at Mt Wilson, NSW, Australia

The Snow Is My Only Companion

This poem was written by Du Fu who is considered to be one of China’s greatest poets of the Tang dynasty.

Du Fu was born to a minor scholar-official in Henan Province. His mother died while he was young, and an aunt helped raised him.

Du Fu is often described as a poet-historian, and his works convey the emotional impact and import of political and social issues and register a range of private concerns, trials, and dramas. His poems are remarkable for their range of moods as well as contents.

Alan and I worked on the translation together on this piece. You may read more of Alan’s translation work on Chinese, Spanish poetry, own poetry and essays here.






After the battle, we mourn for the dead;
I’m old and alone, grief filling my head.

Dark, ominous clouds are filtering down;
The cold wind and snow are swirling around.

There is no wine left in the calabash bowl,
But the stove is still hot from the smoldering coal.

The news cannot reach us from our dearest kin;
I sit down to write, but I cannot begin.

Grieving the Autumn Rains I

This poem was written by Du Fu in 754. He was a Chinese poet and politician of the Tang dynasty.
Alan Steinle (Alan’s work) and I worked on the translation together.

秋雨叹三首 (一)


The grass has decayed from all the rain we’ve seen,
But the cassia below the steps remains bright green.

Your feather-like leaves escaped the autumn showers;
Like golden coins are your many blooming flowers.

You can feel the bitter wind’s persistent attack;
Can your stalk endure the force, or will it crack?

Above the steps, I let down my graying hair;
I smell the fragrant cassia, but I feel despair.