Under my tongue
lie unformed words
like a cluster of emotions
unspoken
hidden in the silence
you so despise
Being
me
is not enough
You demand reasons
for the way I am
Apology is not
a peace offering
that pleases you
I offer us peace
by biting my tongue
to set us free
Community
A Six Sentence Story word prompt – Tree, hosted by Girlie on the Edge
That was a tough financial decision to make about purchasing this old house to convert the front of the house and the court yard into a cafe for all to come and enjoy time together as a community.
It all started from a group of poets and short story writers and enthusiasts wanting a place to meet and share their passion.
We built slowly with just a few small tables and chairs under the giant banyan tree in the middle of the court yard, then a hand craft wooden work bench installed, came the commercial coffee machine acquired in an liquidation auction along with bits and pieces cafe equipment.
My love is the barista on the coffee machine making aromatic beverage with artistic touch, and our patrons write their own orders, pay in the wooden chest, put away used coffeeware in the dishwasher, while I fill in the gap of whatever needs doing.
Surely but slowly, our little cafe is becoming the gathering place for local and international poets and writers to cultivate the art of words, with three prominent groups: the Brother’s Campfire led by Benjamin; the Living Poetry hosted by Batholomew; and the Six Sentence Story managed by Denise, who so fondly named our cafe “The 6 Sentence Cafe”.
Now our home, also our place of work, is filled with like-minded people where the beauty of creativity is brewing with the coffee beans, rain or shine, in this little cosy corner of the old town.
Water Lily
This is inspired by Bree’s recent post Give It A Go
The flirtatious candle flames dancing in the room
Such tempting ambience in the deep of the night
Even the pregnant moon shys away
and hides behind the ruby sky
How about we put off tomorrow
peel off layers of shame
lay off all expectations
Let the satin sheet subdue our fervent wants
Trembling fingertips to steady these urging waves in vain
Your burning lips iron the wrinkles around my mouth
teaching me the secret of blooming and fading
You have made me the only water lily in Monet’s night garden
Deep in the Woods
The woods has memories
The flaxen sun plaited into the canopy of greens
Playful feet dipped in the cool stream
Lilac wildflowers witnessed their promises
The woods has memories
The trees whispered her name
He raged against the tree bark
Broken knuckles, virgin blood
The old well filled with tears
Covered by mossy sorrow
The woods has memories
A lost boy mourned his love
trapped in the woods
stuck in the loop of time
The trees whispered their names
Newness
We sat through
the silence
of the cold sea
in darkness
to embrace the sunrise
She clothes us
with her warm glow
and eternal energy
A new day is born
in her majesty
A Hard Time
It’s hard to write about beauty when surrounded by despair.
A woman is trapped in her flat
for fearing to be found by her perpetrator who has been released from custody.
A man couldn’t afford to pay rent because the persistent rainy weather renders him jobless, and the pending doom of being evicted and losing custody of his children.
An old man had to put down his companion dog because he couldn’t afford the vet bill.
A disabled teenager mourns the passing of her mother, also her only carer.
A young man sinks into deep depression and anxiety because of the hormone therapy side effects.
The stories and events go on, and of course there are also wars which were started by people who bear no guilt of murder.
It’s hard to write about beauty, or see the beauty in the overladen ugly, sometimes.
#cassaquote – 43
The things I say will be held against by public opinion.
The things I think will be held against by the judgement of my Creator.
This Is Not About Fashion
People romanticise the rain
He wishes he could be one of those people
But he has no work if it rains
It has been raining a lot this autumn
He is already behind on rent and bills
Who would have thought that thieves would rob the down trodden
His flat has been ransacked empty
The Neighbourhood Centre gave him some non perishable food
Winter comes early this year
He needs a padded jacket to fend off the chilly mornings
He also needs underwears and socks
There is a dilemma in Kmart menswear
But given the priority of necessity
He is going commando
Tortoise
I stop looking into myself
Introspection in vain
for I am a hollow man
There is a spiral
of nothingness
pecked out by crows
How do I escape
this ebony heaviness
Folding myself further
into a pool of tar
is suicide by default
In the end
I am bored of the wollow
So I stretch myself
and look outside again
The light is unchangingly
there
and the fullness
is outside of me
We Can Have It All
The fortune teller
makes their living
on men’s curiosity
The weather man
makes their success
on men’s insecurity
Amazon Yesterday
makes its fortune
on men’s impatience
But when men build
the kingdom of God
which transcends time
and space
Flicker of Thoughts 