The Middle Finger to The Seven Virtues

The Living Poetry prompt – Virtuous


Temperance rivals with yolo
Charity veils sinister corruption
Chastity cops technicality in the arse
Diligence finds no place in fast money
Humility runs a mile from self promotion
Patience means Amazon vs of Amazon Prime
Kindness shies away from publicised name and shame

Random

Six Sentence Story prompt – Random

Rain always brings me surprise
Autumn burns me with her splendid colours
No one comes into my life by chance
Devine appointment has its exact time and place
October 2010 you walked into me to escape the rain
Moments in life are never random

Rudiment

The Living Poetry prompt – rudiment

I am a steady builder
with a simple mind

So I think
if I take hold of the rudiment of love
I will just build on it note by note
until a love song is created
and sung in harmony
for the rest of our humble life

Halfway through
I realise I am confronted with a pattern
that will not flow in one accord
instead
it is like a stream from the mountain top
descending with the landslide
I believe it will make it on its own
landing somewhere destined by Mother Earth

In the end
I will bawl my eyes out
while
wholeheartedly celebrating
a masterpiece which we are meant to create together
but now
only you in the centre stage
surrounded by applause
without the sight of me

Hunch

The Six Sentence Story prompt – Hunch

“He barely kept eye contact and rarely spoke to me when he hung out with us.

We hung out a lot and he was always there wearing his nerdy glasses and checkered shirt.

I found nerds attractive and terribly sexy in checkered shirts.

I thought he was hopelessly shy and sensitive like a bunny rabbit.

Call it a hunch, I knew he was in love with me.”

That’s what I’ve prepared for our wedding speech.

Zany

The Six Sentence Story prompt – Zany

In 1982, there was no one sculpted nudes in China, not even under Deng Xiaoping’s economic reform of opening China to the outside world.

He, the Beethoven looking man created stacks of nude sculptures in his studio which was no more than a kiosk tucked away in the alley.

We walked past his studio after school and made fun of him wearing silk stockings and hairnet by pulling faces and giggling away.

Now in 2020, I am a lot more educated on celebrating individuality and have seen the world outside of red China.

We were little assholes of ignorant parents and grandparents.

I have forgiven myself and am proud of how far I have come from that six year old girl.

 

*Thank you Denise for putting out this weekly prompt. You may check out Denise’s blog GirlieOnTheEdge’s Blog

Moulting

The Living Poetry prompt – molt

If we treat love affair like moulting
it is only natural that
we age a little
throw away a little
and grow a little

brown and black butterfly on man s hand
Photo by chguifi_ AbderazzaQ on Pexels.com

Anger

The Living Poetry prompt – Angry

hey
you little spark
I am sorry that
I keep denying you, rejecting you
blaming you for ruining everything
you suffer for my immature behaviour
will you forgive me

 

happy women hugging

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

My Favourite Person

The Living Poetry prompt – kinfolk

my favourite childhood memory is
curling up to my great grandmother
listening to her sharing stories of her life

I got to know her nine brothers and their fate
one was an infant death
another died in a city bombing
two were sold as slaves
four were lost in war
one was too weak to go on

I met great grandfather from her smile
teenaged bride and young groom
he was handsome and dashing
a captain of the navy
served the Qing Emperor
died young at the sea

she was a widow at thirty-five
sent off the concubine with golds and silvers
escaped two wars with her two boys and a blind mother

she fed her family by serving in a colonial mansion
where she witnessed the good life of pet dogs
she wished her next life came back as a fluffy white puppy

when great grandmother reached retirement age
the cultural revolution broke out
she was sent to the Black Hill carrying mud for construction
and was sent home after contracting tuberculosis

when she was seventy years old
still
she ran a family day care
and home sewing business

I used to tell her I love her
when I grew up
I would travel to Spain
to make a good living
and I would send her 99 pesetas each month
so she would have a good life in old age

when I was a teenager
she rebuked my parents not letting me wear crop tops
she also told me not to marry a white man
because they have big penises

the last question she asked me was
“When are you coming home to see me?”
I said
“When I save up enough money to buy a plane ticket.”
great grandmother passed when she was ninety-seven
she dropped like a ripened fruit from a tree
peaceful and fulfilled

I did not make it to her funeral
that remains to be my greatest regret
till this day

 

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(My great grandmother Zhou Weiying 1904 – 2001)

 

Another Fairy Tale Ends

The Living Poetry prompt – bench, rain

Continents apart day after day, “When you come back, I’ll be here.” I remember you said.

I am standing here foolishly holding onto a distant promise soaked in the winter rain.

The bench is painted red.

Is it a sign for good luck or just man made passion to hide the worn-out memory?

We need to be sure there is nothing left to say, to explain, to retain.

Pain, I finally ready to let go.

It shivers out of my heart into the cold.