>> [N/A]: gnight

oftentimes i feel myself drift like a piece of wood carried by the whims of the ocean wondering if the choices i made that brought me here were still justifiable to me (and telling myself that the placebo effect of alcohol is not and has not been my cup of tea staring at the late-january sunset feeling the biting wind nip the tip of my nose as it puffs out a cloud fogging up my glasses i ask myself why bother) and if my presence would be something to someone other than myself and then you somehow with a simple unprompted greeting 

» gud nite

grounds my feet back
and i breathe again

buried

i won't sing you a serenade not because i don't want to on the contrary, my moon, i'm dying to convey to you how you complete my everyday how your simple smile makes  my complex concerns seem light how a glimpse of your fluttering hair  is enough to push me forward    when my knees feel faltering how just a trace of your chuckle  brings the warmest moonlight    to this cold, dark abode    in which i pass long winter nights no, i can't sing you a serenade __wisdom tells me my earthly arias must not fall upon your ears this unwanted drivel stays buried _not reaching your thousand skies _as a lone wolf howls blood at night so too shall i sing out of sight

momentary muse

trudging through my daily routine while walking home, i, on a whim, made a right on a foreign street and with a jolt, i stopped my feet as i almost bumped into you amongst the ash trees' grey shadow you sparkled in sunrays' warm glow i could hear this sweet melody twirling above monotony   in this moment i shared with you my heartbeat pulsed like marching drums my breathing echoed murmured hums as time crawled like a traffic jam as if held taut by fate's madame   with captive nod, i drowned in you you gave a smile, excused yourself in a honeyed voice full of health i must've looked funny and lame as i prolly stuttered the same   absorbed by this concept of you the glint from your cinnamon eyes pleasantly caught me by surprise as you chuckled and moved aside your long black hair trailing in stride   a lotus scent lingered from you i stood stuck in awe at that space for quite some time as my heart raced to figure out what just took place i turned around to catch your trace   but only found a vanished you

hey mom

hey mom, i wonder where you're singing right now? it's been four years since your wearied voice last graced my ears, telling me you're tired - your voice that once was the bright moonlight cruelly reduced to a faint whisper my heart wrenches as i recollect quaint melodies of your lullabies, how your warm tone danced and swayed above rainy evenings' hazy, frigid hums you were loved and embraced by music and never missed a chance to sing, and i loved to be embraced by yours like a blanket as i cry sleeping that's why my heart speaks in melody - my treasured rhythmic bequest from you. the night sky sparkles, feting your name, gently beckons to pass this gift on and so i pray wherever you are, your calm singing voice reverberates as do yours here across the valleys, the oceans, the mountains, the forests - every place i have sung in your name

hey mom, from the youngest of us came a girl she bears your name and she wears your smile the youngest of three, same with us three i'm sure she would've been your sunlight as did your two spunky grandchildren just a year old, her laughs infectious brightening the home that misses you hey mom, the younger of us is getting wed to a tall and charming young fellow who would've had your sure approval she looks happy and comfy with him as they start to build their family and i'm sure he would take care of her and she would take care of him in turn hey mom, the oldest of us is still alone stumbled a lot but has recently  just found his footing so don't worry he is still keeping your dying wish and has not forgotten it a bit the path he's taking is quite rocky but i'm sure it will all turn out fine

summer inception

i woke up with a tinge of regret my left eye sprung a thin rivulet but what i dreamt, i never could get to hold its form before it reset i've lost my dreams for seven years straight and left my morns an empty estate a void with none of pigment nor shade no sound nor scent; just drifting and grayed but once a while, the feelings remain as i wake up; though i try in vain to grasp its rhyme or reason, again, it melts away, dissolved by the rain o how i wish that i knew for whom my grieving heart does whisper in tune i'm left with hollow outbursts and gloom confused and cold i come first of June

stinging nettles (or how i stopped being afraid of falling in love again)

i used to be scared of getting near and stung by these nettles growing here my first brush with them, unsettled fear, abused me with scars, upsetting smear the pain took a while before it fled and i couldn't sleep; was tormented it felt like my hands were scorching red and stomped by a furious thoroughbred the stings were relentless, throbbing shrieks as i drowned in freezing sweaty streaks my vision was ghostly white and bleak my hearing awash in high-pitched creaks i woke up alive and traumatized with lingering pain and bloodshot eyes this core memory forever lies engraved in my soul; a lesson wise but now i'm more sick of being scared and tired of this ghost that's haunting bare these nettles are healthy, tasty fare i'll miss out on life if i don't dare and if hurt befalls upon me still and i be in bed and deathly ill please know that i chose from my own will  i'd rather her touch, pricked by her quills  than shiver alone in bitter chills

picnic

i watched her have her picnic alone beneath the verdant birches of spring and marveled at her grace and her form while making her embroidery sing her sundress, white with cute floral prints the snowdrops and the ivies blend in she wove her thread with purposeful swing her eyes locked in with focus and zing her golden locks did dance with the light and swayed in turn with April wind's breath her needle smoothly glided in flight and guided by her fingers so deft for whom she wove i never could guess she knows me not, and her i know less my only wish is next time she'd thread beside me in our picnic instead