其实

其实
我很简单
你想象中的复杂
只是
一个过去失落的我

其实
空气很自然
只是
有时呀
我们忘记了呼吸

其实
你也很简单
只是
我们幼稚的爱
寻求多余的复杂

Boomerang

Living Poetry prompt – Native


Bart sends out weekly prompts
hunting for prized written arts
Sometimes they return empty
right back in his wanting hand
At times they return a surprise
making his waiting heart sing

Gumboots


I walked the distance under the grey sky
Let the rain quieten my mind
The gumboots you gifted me
were meant to keep me dry
They were love to me

I knocked on your door
waited patiently
You opened eventually
and showed me contempt

Still
I was so glad I came
I couldn’t run away from missing you
But I finally turned away from hatred

Strangely
my steps were lightened
in my water filled gumboots

💄💋👠


I will have to climb over your heels
before I can reach your kiss of fire
The straight pantyhose line is my guide

Writer’s note: Mr Tips from the V Pub gave me a prompt about lipstick and shoes.

A Funeral for Sperms

Living Poetry July Picture Prompt

Onlookers and passerby gave them the cheers
Some even said congratulations
Little did they know
there goes his vitality into the thin air
Her belly is still flat
and her womb is still empty

2030

This poem was published in Social Justice Inks Anthology by Lisa Tomey’s Prolific Pulse Press, available for purchase on Amazon.

An old woman took her granddaughter to the mall. 

She wanted to buy her little girl a lollipop. 

The shopkeeper asked her to pay at the facial recognition machine. 

She was too poor to own a digital device,  

too helpless to be tech savvy, 

and she only scraped by using the money in a biscuit tin. 

The shopkeeper told her that business could not accept cash payment anymore, 

for the public health order said it all. 

She pleaded with the shopkeeper saying they were clean and healthy. 

All she wanted was a good old days’ reward for her granddaughter. 

The little girl looked up to her tear-filled eyes, 

“Nana, you are the sweetest thing in the whole wide world, 

more than all the lollies in the shop. 

Our papa in heaven knows we are clean. 

Let’s go and play in the sun!” 

Writer’s notes: This poem is about the future of digitised technology and human passport segregate the society and continue to drive vulnerable group of people to be the outcast. 

Caged


I read her like a fascinating book.
I look at her as a piece of intriguing art work.
I watch her in a black and white nostalgic movie.
I imagine how she would sound in all her shrinking presence.

Cruelly, you picked her out from the wild
With contempt you isolated her from her family
All for your selfish needs
You gratify from her beauty
You covet her freedom
You punish her for her silence

A songbird gave up her will to survive
Not for a pair of clipped wings
But for a dimming voice

To Keats

This is written based on Living Poetry music prompt.


My bed is soaked in the aftermath of night terrors
My body is weaker than the candle wick

Wisdom sings joyful tunes in my waiting ears
reminding me
God has blessed me with gift and talent
Then why
A young man with an old soul deserves no life

My heart wails like an owl
knowing the night won’t come
My eyes are going blind
knowing the sun won’t rise after dawn

Sorrow is the hemlock I drink up
fade, flake and fly away