Deception

Living Poetry picture prompt

This time of the year, the splendid colour always reminds him of Clementine, a beautiful woman with porcelain freckled skin and fiery red hair.

She was neurotic, spontaneous and wild. It was an instant attraction without reservation. He fell in love hard, like the cedar wood.

How he wished that to be a fairy tale, ignoring her interchangeable sweetness and sourness. When he was around her, she blanketed him with warmth and zest. But when he embraced all she was giving out, there was always that invisible chill he felt. He was not a smart man. He only quit after seven broken hearts over three years.

Today, he still ponders about their love. This time of the year, in the forest of orange trees, he thinks about Clementine, a woman like the autumn cold air, whom he once loved deeply and wholeheartedly.

Before Sunrise

Long Reef lookout, Sydney, Australia


I watch these two
before Sunrise

Knowing my father
values my son’s company
more than the glorious sun
He is an old man
seen many sunrises

My son
for the first time
experiences the magnificence
of a new day
with his favourite person

I love watching sunrise
But my eyes
cannot move pass
the love between them
They are worth
missing the sunrise for

心动

I added the audio of this piece because it rhythms.


素颜的女生最可爱
微卷着半脸的刘海
韵香随着微风扑来
她不觉察我在发呆
花树下心动的男孩

English translation by meaning:

The plain face girl is the cutest
Her wavy bang covers half of her face
The breeze sends her sweet scent straight to me
She doesn’t notice that I am in a trance
A boy who is falling in love standing underneath a blossom tree

月相连

The Chinese mid-autumn festival traditionaly is a reunion time for family and love ones. I thought to write a love poem to celebrate. I hope google translator does this poem justice 🙃.


你的微笑是我院里的桃花
你的寂寞是我窗外的梧桐
你的挂念是留声机的情歌
你流的泪成了我天空的雨
此时是中秋佳节明月当空
让我的皓月照亮你的阴云

Centrifugation

Denise’s Six Sentence Story word prompt – Coffee


We used to think of our future as retirees.
You would be content to tie our boat to the pier at sunset, with or without fish for dinner, while I would dream that you played the harmonica in nostalgic tunes by the sea.

We wanted simple things until we didn’t want them anymore, unintentionally.
There had been this period of vacant time, spinning too fast and too wild.
We lost hold of each other, and we lost our substance as one.

I often imagine, the day I learn to forget the past, and you learn to play the harmonica, we will share coffees together like two perfect strangers who fall in love all over again.