Those days
We wrote each other letters
From passing notes to
Confessing love
The letters you wrote to me
I kept setting them on fire
As if burning them into ashes
You would be erased
And yet
We still write to each other in dreams
Always in a distance and always in silence
Except when the pen scratching the paper
My heart aches
We had no toys
We had no snacks
We had no schools
We had each other
We had the world
Our favourite was
holding hands
lying by the watermelon field
counting the stars
whispering secrets
till dews covering us
then it’s the sun rays
kissing our apple cheeks
You and I
She is beautiful!
wearing an indigo aura
velvet moss and lime green coat
carrying an agile fiery tangerine hemline
Her palace cannot contain her magnificence
People from near and afar visiting her
admiring her royal and divine elegance
enchanted by her allure.
She is lonely!
For the pleasure of many
she is destined to the palace
watching the world fading away
grieving her once soaring freedom
Nobody knows her entrapment
Few expressed their fervent love
and went away buried in sorrow
accusing her of cold and aloof
No one knows
she is dying brokenhearted
in desolation..
Floating on a lilo, squinting to the clouds, day dreaming…
Sinking into the couch, getting lost in a book, coffee brewing…
Curling up on a soft rug, playing my favourite tracks, fire crackling…
Dangling my feet in the water, watching the fishermen, time trickling…
Digging my toes in the sand, breathing in the salty mist, wave crashing…
Leaving everything, rushing into the storm, barefoot running…
Reaching out my hand, smiling at you, a life worth living!
I heard him singing again
amongst the birds
in the deep mountains
above the tea plantation.
Papa told me he lost his mind
to a dragon.
I saw him leading the buffalo
down the stream
dragging smoke from a pipe.
I had never waved nor smiled
too scared to lose my mind and
I was five.
Years gone by
I heard him singing no more.
Papa told me
he lost his voice to
the crows.
I watch him
dragging smoke from the pipe
like incense burning
I see angels chanting
paving the way for
resting.
(Fire and Ice – painting by Michelle Meister )
I am an intense person
in a quiet way,
often you don’t notice
till you are in close contact,
and most people don’t get to that vicinity.
If you are dancing around the edge,
testing the temperature and atmosphere,
Don’t be!
You will get a chill,
feeling alone and morbid.
You will only pierce me with fire and flames,
the same intensity of my ice sculpted palace.
If you are expecting mashmallows, vanilla sky, warm and fussy,
Don’t be!
I am an intense person,
a Rinko waiting for Kūki to
ignite the Lost Paradise!
* A Lost Paradise is 1997 novel by Japanese author Junichi Watanabe.
The news broke out today
you are guilty as hell
The blood bruises boiling up in me sent my stomach to knots
My heart radiating sharp stabbing pain
The vomit choked my windpipe
The flashback was like unleashed wild beasts attacking me
tearing me to shreds
I stumbled out to the back yard
to the tree I buried the trauma
I dug with my bare hands until my nails ripped off
blood meshed into soil
The news broke out today
so as my secret
( painting by Remigiusz Dobrowolski )
I am sitting in my worn cane chair
at my grainy raw timber desk
facing this window of lost youth
hoping to glimpse the scenery
before the dusk sinking into the night.
My hair is wiry and thin
salt and pepper without the spice.
My trembling, scaly hands raising to my skull.
My strawly fingers running along the scrawny sockets
to the elongated pointed nose
to the cold shrivaled lips.
They are the same track your hands and lips travelled.
Your faces are haunting me outside the window,
one by one, your faces of disappointment, hatred, wailing, brokenhearted, unforgiving…
playing screen by screen as the scenery of
my only connection to the outside world.
Here I am, in confinement
where I confessed all my wrongdoings, misbehaving, betrayals, poisonous venom.
I repaid all these with my youth, my solitary, my self inflicted torment
until I become a bag of bones, dust to dust, ashes to ashes…
Flicker of Thoughts 