I have done a guest post at Brother Benjamin’s Campfire on a somewhat controversial topic. If you would like to visit to check it out link is here:
Résumé
Pas Ce Soir
Friday night
the city becomes alive
She touches up her red lips
just in time for the stranger’s arrival
The conversation between them are smooth
gliding over her Persian blue silk blouse
and his flattering compliment
His fingertips casually strike out thermal waves
with each intentional brush of her arm
It’s getting beyond cosy warm there
and his scent smells late night passion
He moves closer and whispers desire in her ear
Confronted by his tempting invitation
she pinches herself hard
leaving a mark on her inner thigh
where wild nights used to overstay
and never had the courtesy to pay her with respect
She remembers all that devastating aftermath
So she leans over and whispers to him
“Pas Ce Soir”
Restoration
I have been enjoying jigsaw puzzle again. This is one of the jigsaw puzzles I completed recently. From the experience, this poem was created.
It was beautifully whole
A sudden storm broke it into pieces
I could only make out the outline
While the foundation was crushed
Tracking the fragments by their edgy shapes
my unskilled hands perform no miracles
The only hope in restoration lies in time only
It is the time I invest in patiently
which bonds the shattered reality
and make it whole again
And now the beauty is in
both the holder and the beholder
Summer Holiday
You used to live by the sea
free like a dandelion
wild like a daisy field
I drove the winding roads
with the car windows down
let the summer sun bite my arm
We picked seashells
like little kids
buried each other in hot sand
We dipped Tim Tam biscuits
in black tea with soy milk
read books to each other
We curled up by the campfire
listened to James Blunt
ate barbecued marshmallows
That was the summer holiday
I spent visiting you
before you left the sea
Storyteller
Your face tells a thousand stories.
The folds of your skin
capture every storm you endured.
In between,
there are records of victory
and triumph.
New generations keep rising up
to take up the challenge.
You stepped back tide after tide
until you no longer
protect them
at the front line,
instead you watch over them
in prayer.
We look to you for wisdom.
Your face is the evidence
that history doesn’t lie.
If we say
that you are only a stone,
we are fools
beyond the reach of gods.
Bay Walk
The evening bay reminds me
of an ageing woman
subdued in tiredness
letting go
after many years of
keeping up with her youth
Her face is exceedingly beautiful
under candlelight
soft and glowing
like an intriguing book
best to be read
with a glass of vintage wine
by an antique candelabra lamp
#songshare – Cactus Tree
There’s a man who’s been out sailing
In a decade full of dreams
And he takes her to a schooner
And he treats her like a queen
Bearing beads from California
With their amber stones and green
He has called her from the harbor
He has kissed her with his freedom
He has heard her off to starboard
In the breaking and the breathing
Of the water weeds
While she was busy being free
In a decade full of dreams
And he takes her to a schooner
And he treats her like a queen
Bearing beads from California
With their amber stones and green
He has called her from the harbor
He has kissed her with his freedom
He has heard her off to starboard
In the breaking and the breathing
Of the water weeds
While she was busy being free
There’s a man who’s climbed a mountain
And he’s calling out her name
And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles
He calls again
He can think her there beside him
He can miss her just the same
He has missed her in the forest
While he showed her all the flowers
And the branches sang the chorus
As he climbed the scaley towers
Of a forest tree
While she was somewhere being free
And he’s calling out her name
And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles
He calls again
He can think her there beside him
He can miss her just the same
He has missed her in the forest
While he showed her all the flowers
And the branches sang the chorus
As he climbed the scaley towers
Of a forest tree
While she was somewhere being free
There’s a man who’s sent a letter
And he’s waiting for reply
He has asked her of her travels
Since the day they said goodbye
He writes “Wish you were beside me
We can make it if we try”
He has seen her at the office
With her name on all his papers
Through the sharing of the profits
He will find it hard to shake her
From his memory
And she’s so busy being free
And he’s waiting for reply
He has asked her of her travels
Since the day they said goodbye
He writes “Wish you were beside me
We can make it if we try”
He has seen her at the office
With her name on all his papers
Through the sharing of the profits
He will find it hard to shake her
From his memory
And she’s so busy being free
There’s a lady in the city
And she thinks she loves them all
There’s the one who’s thinking of her
There’s the one who sometimes calls
There’s the one who writes her letters
With his facts and figures scrawl
She has brought them to her senses
They have laughed inside her laughter
Now she rallies her defenses
For she fears that one will ask her
For eternity
And she’s so busy being free
And she thinks she loves them all
There’s the one who’s thinking of her
There’s the one who sometimes calls
There’s the one who writes her letters
With his facts and figures scrawl
She has brought them to her senses
They have laughed inside her laughter
Now she rallies her defenses
For she fears that one will ask her
For eternity
And she’s so busy being free
There’s a man who sends her medals
He is bleeding from the war
There’s a jouster and a jester and a man who owns a store
There’s a drummer and a dreamer
And you know there may be more
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree
While she’s so busy being free
He is bleeding from the war
There’s a jouster and a jester and a man who owns a store
There’s a drummer and a dreamer
And you know there may be more
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree
While she’s so busy being free
Price Tag
He stopped buying bread and milk from the service station up the road.
He couldn’t afford the price, tagged for the convenience.
He started to walk to the supermarket to shop.
Three months later, his shoes fell apart.
He stopped going out all together.
Three weeks later,
he was found dead by his neighbour’s dog
on his own front porch
at the age of 95.
God Tired
I don’t know how God does it.
He hears takers pray to Him
with long-ass shopping lists
without beginning with a decent greeting,
let alone the whimpers, the whiners, or the whingers.
I don’t know how God does it.
He gave us life and means to stay alive.
He even gave us His beloved Son
to teach and model righteous living.
And yet we keep on seeing the lacks and seeking destruction.
I don’t know how God does it.
He gets so little acknowledgement and takes so much blame.
I feel so tired for God.
He says to me,
“Little one! You are created in the likeness of Me. So you relate to my tireness. But little do you know, if there is even one grateful soul out there desiring to know Me, I Am restored.”
When The East Meets The West
The Living Poetry prompt – Epigraph
“Softly I am leaving,
Just as softly as I came;
I softly wave goodbye
To the clouds in the western sky.”
You didn’t see my quiet tears
blurred by my bright smile
Perfect love I left you with
broken dreams I took with me
I fold your smile into my silken sheets
kept under lock and key
I sleep naked on a bare bed
to fend off the ghost of our past
You come into my dreams
drenching me in your torrential rain of passion
I am defendness in the darkness of my subconscious
Precipitously you are leaving
Just as precipitously as you came
You precipitouly retrieve
from the flood of the eastern sea
Flicker of Thoughts 