
earth’s coating on late autumn (a
yard of naked trees open for the
early frost) not death but a promise
stamped on your irises’ bows.
—
I write because I read. I read because I write.
earth’s coating on late autumn (a
yard of naked trees open for the
early frost) not death but a promise
stamped on your irises’ bows.
—
Marriage. Marriage is a pair of destined hands
clap not, cannot, without the other one—
no song needed to taste one’s tears;
no spice to smell one’s burning sun.
Marriage. Marriage is all the sonnets
William Shakespeare (welcomed and
farewelled in Church of the Holy Trinity,
just for your information for marriage
will not make sense, sometimes)
has written, and the tragedies the
Intellectuals have dissected and adored
‘fore the beginning of Gutenberg’s time.
Well. Love. Love can make one mad
and blind and write, usually all at the
same time, until it births its favorite son—
marriage where poems are etched
at the back of their hands, memorised
by heart like the Table of Elements
during your dreaded Chemistry class.
Marriage. Marriage is a pair of destined hands
clap not, cannot, without the other one;
can be clenched fists for a while
tangled fingers most of the time,
until one’s breath is done,
until one’s breath is done.
—
thousand poems
have i written
‘fore fate allowed
me to meet him,
oh, how in hush heart-
beats, low key hums,
dearness draws near
me towards him,
oh, how my shy
muse sings hymns,
so sweetly since
i knew him,
oh, how rhymes
roll off in rivulets,
thousands and more
poems now for him.
—
You are asking why
I haven’t been writing
lately about love,
well, it’s because
you do not utter
a wish every night
once you can already
hold it with your
bare hands. So why
I haven’t been
writing about love
it’s because I
already have
you.
Tonight, I want to stay.
No, I won’t go away.
Your midnight scent I will inhale.
Until the moon breathes another day.
Tonight, I want to stay.
Oh, let not distance take me away.
The sun will smile, either way,
so please, just let me stay.
My left-hand hangs incomplete,
without your right.
The space of seas between our souls
just doesn’t feel right.
So please, don’t be astray.
Tonight, with you, I’ll stay.
Like how an innocent a p p l e
birthed Newton’s law of gravity,
your child-like smile, my love,
freed the caged lover inside me,
effortlessly.
I heard the
hushed melting
of the last flake
of winter on the
drying road bathed
with the first infant
rays of spring,
I felt the
spinning earth
waited a bit,
I saw a
second lasted
more than a minute,
when you smiled at me
for the first time.
My clingy heart
has never been fond
of the dawn’s pending fog
everyday sitting
outside our window,
drinking its daily
sunrays-made tea
as it waits
for the official ending
of our last night’s
nectar-sweet tryst.
Another day,
another sun,
I have to wait
for another moon
to inhale your scent
again.
Amazing is the God
who brought you to life,
for He has honed you so perfectly.
With every passing day,
I come to realize, when He was making You,
he was thinking of me.
I remember how your photos would spark the poet in me, how your shots are like muses that breathed life to my poetry. How you sprinkled my poems with your kind words, generously.
How in each exchange of message I’ve got to know the man behind the camera, the man so composed and so inspiring, and the hiding inside a shell, truthfully hungry for love but acting like it is the last thing he needed.