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Archive for the ‘on poetry’ Category

Death catches up

Death marches with Time, its shadows lengthening with each year that we pass.

The first experience of Death might be a great grandparent–as young children, we don’t notice the details. It just happened: they just passed away. They simply are NOT anymore. Life is too full of other things to learn, too full of pretty things, Death is just a mere nightmare for children.

By our second experience of Death, it’s starting to flex its grip on us. We accompany a loved one through stages of Death: sickness, hospitalization, episodes of goodbyes, and the end. It started to dawn on us that death is a reality, and it’s ugly. But deep down we still think that Death is still a long way away. In our 20s or 30s, our health is a good distraction, banishing the shadows of Death to a corner.

By adulthood, Death plays a game of catch-up with Time: one-by-one, like leaves falling in the autumn, we see our friends leaving us, and Death intimately shares with us its darkness. And we begin to expect it to come down on us anytime.

When the time comes, how will I cope with Death?

Some go in and come back out / Some go in to stay for a while / Some go in and come out incomplete / Yet others / They go in to pass to the other Side

“Hospital”

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butterflies

I saw a school of butterflies, flitting up and down around a tree crowded by red blossoms. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, blinding me sometimes, shielding the delicate yellow wings from my sight. They flipped, flirted, three-some-ing and enjoying the gentle breeze that almost seemed to blow them away from their flight.
I don’t know what they meant. More than anything, they’re a good omen for me. It’s not weather change. It’s not good weather. It’s not pretty blossoms. It’s not fragrant flowers. Maybe it’s a foresight of a good day ahead that attracted them.
Their wings sprayed pollens of tenderness, every flap a tranquil whisper of peace. They know only to fly and feed on sweet nectar. They know not despair, or sadness, or envy. And at least at that instant, they know not pain. If only we could live like the flight of the butterflies. Weightless, carefree, a mirror of happiness, total surrender to God, at peace with everything.

Recently I’ve been thinking about all vanities in this world. Fashion, status, knowledge, even health. Accumulation of which doesn’t mean a thing. At the end it will be a straight line, a nothing. Zip. And what matters is not who we are for others, not who we are for ourselves, but who we are in front of Him who judges everything with justice.

You gotta know / this much is true / I love you / to my best knowledge / of what love means
And I’m learning / to love you more / but this love of mine / is for who you are at heart / not outwardly / not emotionally
I love you

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rainy day

It’s been raining since daybreak.Three times it started drizzling, and then stopped, only to start again one or two hours later. I’m in the meeting room right now.

It’s raining outside. A soft drizzle falling softly, not unlike the weaving of the earth with invisible threads. The sound of raindrops is a cool blanket wrapping me in a gentle peaceful mood. Some fat drops dripping from the rooftop gives an accent of movement. There is hardly any pattering sound to be heard. A couple of white birds flew hurriedly across, eager to escape the rain, back to the comfort of their nest. The babbling din of discussion around me is thinned out, and I feel the rain inside me.

I feel the rain, and the vanity of life. I think about the sea, the stars, and the boy I love. I think about chasing dreams and adventures. I think about myself. About how I live for the depth of the unknown, and the uselessness of it all.

The rain is heavier now, coarser, giving mankind a preview of its power to destroy. The palm trees outside bows their wet leaves, swaying in rhythm. I feel drenched. It’s not a bad feeling. Like doing yoga minus the mat and the sweat. There’s no sign of life outside, except for the occasional sound of motorcycles passing through. Even the houses look uninhabited, with their doors closed and curtains pulled down. It’s almost surreal.

I look around, and see a surprising contrast between what’s out there and what’s confined in the room. Between nature and people. One a unified symphony; the other, utter chaos. The unpredictability of nature can’t beat the unpredictability AND the scheming mind of people.

The rain has stopped. I’m thrown back into reality. I think again about the boy I love. About my love for him. And I wonder, would it be as the rain—a peaceful haven that someday may stop being there?

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my childhood contained

It's just a toy to you
but please
Don't touch it
you're desecrating my past
Don't lift it
you're hurting my childhood days
DON'T throw it
I bled inside and cried

It's just a toy to you
but that is my whole childhood past
When laughter means nothing else but happiness
and tears mean nothing else but sadness
It's just a toy to you
but it holds my fragile heart whole
and my innocence intact

I know I'm selfish. A little cousin played around with my old toy and I really got myself scared silly when she stretched it to UNBELIEVABLE length, twisted it SO, and played around with it with the slightest care in the world. I don't even play with it anymore, but I don't want her to play with it. 😦

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I miss you

I'm grumpy
'Coz you're not here to make me smile
I'm sloppy
'Coz you're not here to remind me of my stuff
I'm lazy
'Coz you're not here to scold me
I'm sad
'Coz you're not here to hold my hand
I'm lonely
'Coz you're not here beside me
I'll grow grumpier, sloppier, lazier, sadder, lonelier
Everyday
Without you here

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My new porcupine

Today I met a new porcupine
Unlike others, so fair and fine
And for a while he’s all mine
No nana who can say “Nein!”

Ah! but woe is me
Him and me are not meant to be
He belongs to her
And I belong to another

But today I will remember
And at night I will sigh with a smile
For my eyes can wander a mile
Tho’ my heart resides not there

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I totally agree. And what’s in the eye, can stay in the eye only, doesn’t need to BE in the heart. That’s the true beauty of it. 🙂

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timeless

A heart is locked within me / I'll give to him who holds the key

I lay my head down and pray / may time stand still for me today

As I whisper in the breath of a feather:

This heart in me will I carry / even unto eternity

Written for: En's timeless

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