Ash – The Friendship Collection

I see you everywhere
I am afraid to look too close, too intently
you may evaporate from my thinning mind

I paid attention to the Guinness beer at the bar
I heard your say
“come on love, let’s have a fag outside”

I saw you run topless along Mona Vale beach
Your laughter was a string of bells
sent a sense of peace in the midst of roaring waves

I fixed my eyes to you in the powder room
you straightened the black laced body sliming coset
touched up your flaming red lipstick

I dared not to approach
You might swirl up in the cigarette smoke
You might disappear into the cloud
You might walk back into the dressing mirror

I still see you everywhere
I try not to look too close, too intently
then you may stay a little longer in my memory

 

 

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Logical Assumption

Everything seems lovely on the surface.
There must be something inherently wrong with me.
That’s why I am surrounded by regrets.

 

woman s face
Photo by Elina Krima on Pexels.com

Reality Check

Parents! We don’t have a problem child. What we do have is an ungrateful heart.

A child is God’s gift to us by grace. We did nothing to deserve a child who is precious and beautiful in every way.

Children are here to help us to grow up, to be mature and nurturing adults, and to live our full potential as human beings.

If we refuse to grow up, refuse to accept that they are here to teach us, to challenge us, instead, we bully them, blame them to be the problem of our arrogance, ignorance and obstinacy, to label them to be the problem child, we are in fact the biggest loser.

In our childish and foolish ways, we get into competition with our own flesh and blood, we grow jealous of their innocence, wisdom and talents. We are unable to humble ourselves to let our children to try, to shine, and to thrive. We wonder why we grow harsh, stone hearted and despair. It is impossible to please an ungrateful heart.

Love our children as they first love us unconditionally. 💕

Children are a gift from the Lordthey are a reward from him. – Psalm 127:3

 

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Fading Love

It starts all over again.
The candle light is drowning
in a pool of waxy I love yous.
Silence is the inevitable ending.

 

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Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

Romeo and Juliet

This is a poetry and painting collaboration with emerging Sydney Painter Virginia Bucknell

 

Love
demands absolute devotion

The stage
decorated with charisma and wit

Wild possession
seized by concealed undercurrent

Passion
let it downpour in crimson

Death
gravitates towards eternity

 

Oil painting ‘Love Story’ by Virginia Bucknell, you may see more of Virginia’s paintings via: Art Lovers Australia  Weebly   Instagram

Flanders Red

In the spirit of Anzac Day 25 April 2020

I remember you
Flanders red
young zealous souls marched forward
in the name of God
left your virgin first love
gave you all in exchange for honour
hoped to return to your lover’s arms
in victory
in purity

I remember you
Flanders red
restless young men found despair
in the valley of the shadow of death
your fear soaked night terrors
robbed you of peace
traded you for mercy
when your blood turned cold
in the abandon field
so did your lover’s tears
turned to snow

I remember you
Flanders red
skeletal hollow men dragged your knees
thirsty, hungry, insomniac
fell on the door steps
of your lover’s house
greeted by someone else’s wife
what could you possibly take from a dead man

Ephesians 6:12 English Standard Version (ESV)
For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

photo of poppy field
Photo by Elina Sazonova on Pexels.com

Fig Tree

I planted a fig tree in my garden.
Birds came and went season after season in vain.
Its over abundant shade deceived me
like a new wife had no idea of her barrenness.
The leaves could not shield the guilt or hide the shame.
My facade crumbled under the first ray of truth.

 

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Suicide Note

I never know if there is a next life. If there is one, will I meet you again? To be honest, I prefer this is the end. Because no matter how sweet our love is, there will be more bile. I am incapable to be a knight to keep fighting for us. So, I choose to be a deserter.

I don’t know how much time do I have to live. I don’t know how long I will go on loving you. I still love how you appear in my mind. I still love your sound especially the way you speak. I even miss your once angry voice. But you are so calm and peaceful these days. And I too, love the content you.

I am willing to be an infatuated man loving you in humble distance. Perhaps for you, I am a masochist, a lower rib, a self fulfilled devastation. There is no time table for our love. Yet, I am counting down the days. I am giving all I can while you know I am a hypocrite.

I am glad that I don’t look forward to the next life. I am satisfied to surrender to a woman like you, a love like us. There are not enough next lives to match this passion, this madness and this loyalty in its totality. I have enough material to write love poetry to make up for the missing kisses and passionate nights.

I walk to the end of my life with worn out shoes in the company of your divine shadow and angelic sound.

 

不知道是否有下辈子,更不知道下辈子还会否遇见你,真好我不想有下辈子了,即使更多甜蜜,我怕更多苦涩,沒法做一个英勇的斗士,我选择做了强硬的逃兵。

不管今世还有多长,不管我还能深恋多久,我还是喜欢你一直在我脑海里的样子,一直喜欢你的声音,喜欢被你说教,可惜你不再凶了,你过于平静平淡,但我依旧在喜欢,我在做一个蠢男人,我把自己惨成渣了,再也不是花,我可以更卑微地遥望你,我可以就做一个下里巴人,一个傻球,我数着倒计时着哪天结束这段爱程,时间表沒有列出,我依旧信心满满给予所能给予的,不管是否虚伪?

真好我不会投胎下辈子了,这辈子投降了一个女人,这辈子投降了一段痴情,再有多少可能,再有多少辈子,我也终将遇不到,对她的痴心痴情痴癫,我够了,没够吻,没够性,够了爱,已足够可以写诗写文。

踏破铁鞋无觅处,佳音丽影伴一生。

Farewell Grandma

The original poem The Prodigal Daughter was posted on 16 October 2019. Now it seems fitting for today’s sentiment.  

The prodigal daughter

car tyres roll on
the crackling pebble road
I drag my laden footsteps
to the yellow mud brick house
the door of my childhood flung open
grandma greets me with
her broad smile hung on
her criss cross face
my body quivers
at the sight of
the new fallen snow
my heart is filled with
flushed blood of
coming home

 

Dreamscape

After a solid work day,
I let down the rolled up sleeves
where no bit of poetry is stored.

There was nothing comes to mind.
I opened a bottle of Merlot,
put my feet up with a glass of wine.

Drowse hit me and sent me to slumber.
Vivid dreams filled the landscape of trance.
Faces came into focus from outer space.
Smiles resembles lost lives.
Music played by vegetation saturated in rain.
Air tasted like white figs.
Water ran like marble stress balls in my hand.

When I woke up,
darkness showed her calm face through the window.
My wine sat by the bedside table,
came to live in dark blue on vine.
Was the wine enchanted or I?