Sunday 12 November 2017

Maybe, It's Me

The wonderful words that flow through my heart.
The vivid colours that sprawl through my art.
The rhythms from my guitar.
The light from my shining star.
It’s all because of you.
It’s all because of you.

***
 
The tangy red on my cheeks.
The profound treasures that I seek.
The illusory dreams that I chase,
like a Phoenix, shrouded in a misty lavender haze.
It’s all because of you.
It’s all because of you.

***
 
The wretched pain in my soul.
Like a struggling actor without a role.
Harrowing evil worms of desolation that crawl.
Through the lost bricks of my wall.
I feel so naked and betrayed.
But that’s okay, I’m already dead.

***
 
If I could hand over to you, everything that I had,
I would do it without going mad.
My passion begins with you.
My obsession ends with you.
Even the leaf has to let go, 
its beautiful pearl of dew.
Just to teach us, to live and let live.

***
 
And indeed, I’ve learnt to live again!
Jingling and dancing,
to the tunes of this fascinating game
Although, there's only a small change
You're missing from the picture frame.
I hope that you won’t mind,
I’ve bluntly disappeared & turned blind.
Forgive me dear, my envy makes me terribly unkind.

***
 
The poem’s ending and I’m running out of words.
For sometimes, the roses aren’t red.
And the the violets aren’t blue.
But my friend, it’s not because of you.
Perhaps, it’s me.
Maybe, it’s me…

Friday 13 January 2017

Here We Lie

Here we lie, under the sun,
Wandering how we'll live, 
the rest of our lives.
Here we lie, under the tree,
As the leaves fall dry,  from the turquoise sky.
Here we lie, on the beach,
As the wet sand sinks beneath.
Here we lie in our sorrows,
covering our shattered heart with a sheath.

***

And while we lie, on the ground.
Time passes by, without a sound.
For on our backs, we lie everyday.
Gradually moving towards the grave, 
as our hair turns gray. 
It's not about the years, 
it's not about the deeds.
It's about your purpose,
it's about sowing the seeds.

***

And when you're gone someday,
the seeds will grow into a beautiful tree.
Where kids will gather underneath.
To lie down and gaze at the clouds,
floating in their tangerine evening gown.
And they'll all rejoice and breathe, 
in the reverie of your bequeath!