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

Farewell My Lover

This is written based on Living Poetry’s Music prompt: Concierto de Aranjuez: II. Adagio


The tangerine sun sets on our last night together
The breeze is humid
an excuse to our moistened eyes
Your skin still burns on mine
My hair is still soaked in the summer heat

Tonight the song is sorrowful
Tomorrow you’ll saddle for a foreign land
leaving my wanting heart behind
How much slower a second can be
split in half, even a quarter

The moon shows her sad face
glistened with tears blotting the sky
My soul wilts
Latching on your strength
till the morning glow bathes our sin clean

The last sight of you
Combing the mane before your journey
My hair become fragrant and sleek
Dust and cracked soil takes you away
Our love is tainted all over again

Diminuendo

This is written based on Living Poetry’s music prompt Claire de Lune

I stand
Under the red silk cotton tree
replay the journey of our life
in specks of blossom
hung high
in the azure sky

The rush of new love passion
The heartbreak sharp pain
The resigned regrets
The hope filled spring time

There is no word
that encompassing
all this fullness
of life

Let the music
play on
in ebb and flow
relive every moment
of our past
till the sky
turns grey
and my heart
sinks again
into moonlight

Alive

This is written based on the Living Poetry Music prompt

She was numb and dead inside. The forced rest in the asylum hadn’t helped. Although with sedatives, the night terrors stopped, but she increasingly disassociated with her surroundings. The most frightening was that she couldn’t feel the warmth of the sun.

In a night like any other night, she was woken up by an owl. She responded to the owl’s calling, escaped the night guard’s watch. In her night gown and bare foot, she followed the line of the tall pencil pines, passed the mossy garden door. It was in late autumn, but she felt no cold.

When she was deep into the bush, the moon was high and bright, but the lake was dark and dead. She saw the owl on the tree branch watching her. The owl made another call. This time, she followed the sound and looked over to the lake again. She saw flecks of silver, then a fish jumping high above the water, then a few fish followed.

Her heart leaped and started thumping. She turned to the owl and it was gone. Instead, there were two possums chasing each other on the branch, the tree leaves, making rattling sounds. She laid on the ground covered with dry leaves, they crackled like popcorn.

She heard the earth breathing steadily underneath her. She kept watching the possums and smiled at the moon every now and then. She hadn’t felt so alive for a very long time.