Writing

I've been writing,
I've been writing.
No more than a mountain,
no deeper than a valley.

The words they struck
a negotiation,
with my head.

That for now,
they'll take a break
from wires and circuits,
heading back to classic.

Of wood turned pages
and hard solid cover.
They'll be there,
for an infinite moment.

That is,
till convinced
to be back here
again,

Let them be shelter
by stars and twilight cover
and back to carbon,
they shall be brought to life.

I Saw Fear

Why would I be seeing fear,
one that I recognise
as something that chills me.

The day when distance closes
and gap is removed
from the space of time.

When one walks out
leaving the other
stranded in statsis.

Talks of eternity
diminished into columns of air,
into non existence in an instant.

Could you be here
and tell me gently
that this fear shall not appear.

Train. Noir.

Incidentally the tram ride
reminded of scenes
from stories of distant future
with a dark, noir setting.
Felt like monochrome
was used in capturing
each of those frames.

Everyone kept to their own,
not a single word was heard,
maybe some hard sounding breathing
and silent gazes to a corner.
Perhaps autheors back then
have often linked up
technology as the cause
of broken humanity.

Some way or the other,
either they are the pessimist
or do I sense
some reality to
their perceived truth
written in absolute fiction.

Missing you. With Rants.

Papers were bad today,
the morning run was good though.
Now I take the many little things
and try to enjoy the simplicity in between.
My phone seldom rings now,
maybe because you are not around.
I got a web-cam for three months now,
so you can see me and i can see you too.
Its not so much like a broken transmission
across outer space like in science fiction.
Taking about the screens,
perhaps I'm hitting a bit too many these days.
Of which they lasted a good time for me,
at the same time reminding me of the few we did.
A message that is sent,
but would not see a reply after that beep.
Neither on another channel would I
be able to savor the reminiscence of what is so deep.
Heading back to work then holiday again,
and the routine continues without much change.
This makes for a day's ranting,
before I get a good night sleeping.

Where art' thou?
I miss you.

Unfocus Focus

Breathless.
Endless panting.

There's no wind.
Temperature rising.

Sweat tickles down,
all sides of my head.

The knee jerking pain.
Am I landing my foot correctly?

Where's the distance marking?
What's my current timing?

Rounds to go.
Rounds to go.

No stalling.
No stopping.

Run, run run...
Keep the tempo going...

What did the rain say.

Rain.
The other thing
apart from restless days,
mind-wandering minutes,
and failed alarm clock
that is getting common.

That's the last quarter
in the manner
that I remembered
across the decade since
i notice the falling drops.

Where the day is often served
with a starter, the main
and then the dessert
sometimes in that order
or all mixed up together.

Ash-coated cream,
extra heavy rain,
added with chilling wind,
that leaves a feeling so mellow
especially in the bitter cold.

We had been questioning
whether had someone
simply tune the weather machine
wrongly or maybe haphazardly
thus explaining our misery.

Now it seems a bit more right,
and upon opening your eyes
a bit more wide,
you'll see that
for some other,
things still ain't really right.

Where water sweeps past
like an angry mob and
some lost their life
in an instant
while for others, hope.

The weather that i see,
compared with a previous year
feels more intense
like a person trying so hard
to be heard.

Throwing out everything,
to get attention,
like he's been ignored
for far too long,
that its unbearable.

So what does this rain mean?
For the better or the worst?
The calm before a storm?
And shall this be the calm,
we are all to face a disastrous time.

Clean Up Service

Let me be here,
to clear up your day,
I might be bad at the house,
but just listen to me for now.

Let the fridge,
offer you a cold drink,
cool off that anger,
and ice cubes to top it off with.

Broom and the dustpan,
sweep up the unwanted,
cleared to the last speck of dust
and no traces of dirt.

What else could I offer,
how about a good seat,
with comforting cushions,
for you to rest right here.

Just stay a while and relax,
things are not as bad as you expect,
keep that smile on,
and in here, you're home.

Phantom of the Order

They talk about
one of us,
a member of the order.
Now that we have split,
all towards paths
that might cross
and join together.
But this one they mention,
caught my attention,
for few would still do,
revisit this old location.
That he is fair,
that his skin is clean
from the sun's glare.
No glass upon his face,
to correct
distorted angles.
And seeks education
born not from
the ruling nation.
Where the people we have
are few and and within what we knew,
who could it possibly be,
lest the order has within,
a person that remain phantom,
right under our noses.

Hey Friend

Hey friend,
where have you been?
The pictures,
the writings
all stopped coming in.

Have work
been really pressing,
that time grew wings
to escape
imprisoning.

Does the calligraphy
still flow,
from your brushes' tip
while you enjoy your smoke
in your little breaks.

Simplicity streaks
across the sights
that you share,
of mornings and things,
we don't give another blink.

I wish for you that
may ink never cease
to be far from your reach,
and keep the pictures coming,
what might catch your glimpse.

Morning. Sunday. 3rd Oct

This morning is
Exceptionally plain.
Leaning towards the average,
Add a little gray tint.
Sunshine behind a shade,
Time feels a little late.
the world seems to go
Half a beat slower than before.
The crow flies as the road goes,
Joining the traffic as a whole.
Green field with its new cloak,
Handled by the storm hours ago.
Probably that's why the little chill,
And everything slowing but not a great deal.
The sunshine hides behind,
What seems like a coat
Or a blanket well disguised.

The same music

Back to the same melody,
the exact notes,
rhythm and beat
which stay close to my ears.

But one thing has changed,
in less than twenty four,
revolution of the hand
across the clock on my wall.

The manner I now feel
to the melody now differs.
Becoming a song
that calls out so strongly to me.

It tells me lovely stories
that I would call mine,
and reminder of appreciation,
to a person very special.

Dancers on a Black and White World

Maybe miracles do happen.
Because that's when the heart takes over
and something beautiful is born.

A pair of dancers
on a black and white world.
They are themselves,
and the world is plainly the world.
No worrying about what is around,
all dedicated to their dance.

The dance that says they are sad,
the same dance that sings their joy,
the dance that talked about
each and every single moment of their life.
They lived in those moments
and the dance that would take flight.

Once a while
there's only one of them left.
While it does not stop,
things seem much slower
and it feel not so happy
all of a sudden.

The world might be black and white,
deprived of colors,
its still up to the two
to decide how to put what they have together.
Whether its full of glee or not so happy,
this is where they tell their story.

I spend this wee hours reading,
about people around me,
their individual stories
of themselves,
and the people they love so deep.

The piano piece
that accompanies me tonight
certainly served its purpose right,
to pluck at my heartstrings
and make me write.

Polished Slipper

Ain't all glamorous with a brand,
i'm the person with two sides of me,
and follow you to wherever you'll be.

I'm that pair of slipper,
...that'll you go everwhere in,
for i'm simple to start with.

Just like i'm not the first,
and not the last either,
when i'm considered worn out.

The moment of rejoice was short-lived,
I should have at then,
revel in it while I still could.

All things gotta go someday,
why is it this time and me
who'll be marking down this date.

Our story started with two,
now it ends for me alone
but your story still carries on with two.

hopes. Build.

A house by the sea,
how is that?
Or you prefer one
that overlooks the greens.
I guess that's for me,
very much nature, away from city.

Of stone or brick,
that I shall make.
The shelter that house you,
and our home it shall be.
These hands will toil,
to provide what you may need.

Thousands of sunset,
uncountable of nights.
Days and years,
passing by.
Witnessing the story,
of you and I.

Till now,
it can only be a dream.
Saving for the magical touch,
to make it reality.
Saving for that the special one,
to set these hopes free.

change.

Making changes are tough.

It’s an unknown zone.

Out of your comfort zone.

But I want to make changes.

For the better.

Not wanting to be stuck here anymore.

Outdo myself,

be a better man.

Everyday,

without fail.

Story of a Rock

What does it mean to love.

The word they speak of it
all the single time.
Here a single man seeks
to find it and understand.

He can shed no tear
the last had nearly dried
since the witness of
a kin on deathbed.

Wants to be strong,
like a pillar of stone,
so threw away everything,
made himself a rock.

Nothing could pierce through
that hard solid shell.
Nothing could bother what's under
that hard solid shell.

One day he felt
like he never did before.
What exactly was it.
He had no idea at all.

Everything he entrust
to crusted protection.
That he no longer knew
what is call feel.

Did this new feeling affect him?
Not on the shell it seems.
Then what exactly was it?
Much deeper it seems.

It was a seedling,
one that found a path
through a crack
in that hard solid shell.

Growing and stretching its roots,
binding onto him,
now its part of the rock,
as the rock is part of the seedling.

The feeling made him
want to pull it out,
but yet he wants to
be the source of that new growth.

Day by day it went,
the seedling just grew
and this moment,
the rock came to know,

the thing he's been looking for.

受不了

I'm tired.
Really tired.
The whole plan was suicidal.
But who really saw it coming.

Lose the battle,
lose the war,
is there no land
we can stake a claim on?

Pressurizing grip
suffocating
like a constrictor
caught on you.

我真的累了.

Nearly a Scottish Play

Double, double toil
and trouble.
For this season,
even the witches' potion
will not compare
to this defiled moment.

Even what was forged
through the ages
shall now be denounced
and burnt to ashes.
All that remains,
are that of anger.

Betrayal was injustice,
the culprit thus face
the branding of his name
with irremovable taint.
Now a call to fairness,
but none will pay heed.

All words that come
go down the corridors
where even echoes
shall lose their way.
And the people who hear
shall cease to remember.

As the pigeon will see
that here we do not have
a thane who murdered
out of greed and ambition.
Just a man who step
on one tale too many.

No prophecy around here,
lest one dark and secret,
so whatever happens
to the thane and
his betrayal would only be
left for time to reveal.

A quiet night can get so comforting with songs in your head

Beautiful.
The strumming coupled,
with the voice of my angel tonight.
I see her face not,
yet so much to her song I'm deeply caught.

No.
Not gonna be like the fish,
caught in the fishing net.
Savoring each note,
making sure the tune cease to stop.

Amazing.
How a quiet night can get,
so comforting with songs in your head.
It ease you and calms,
relieve a day's worth of weighing load.

Relax.
And fall into smoothing shade,
a private moment, a secret date.
Before it reaches an end,
enjoy the song.

To Purge the Source

Its vicious,
malicious in nature.
Extending its claws
leaving no stone unturned.

It spares nothing in its path,
particularly to the core and central.
What strong presence
with such unkind intent.

Leaving me worse that dead,
the torment comes slowly.
I try to make an escape,
but sees no path ahead.

Even if I'm still hold a last breathe,
the fighting spirit could be extinguished.
Burnt off into thin air,
blown to traces of nothingness.

Yet its more like a poison,
that slowly eats you from within.
Reaching to each and every vein,
and leaves its taint uncleaned.

Making you its home,
there is no running away.
And how much you wish you could
go deep in and pull grab it all out.

But this venom has finally,
meet its nemesis.
Saving me,
my salvation from torment.

Alas somehow,
responded, my call for hope.
Once again re energized,
I know I'm cured.

How long would it last,
before it makes past this moment.
And sneak in
for another attack.

Not again is it getting through,
for I'm more more ready this time.
Tracing to the souce
and removing it all.

Up to the Down

Up, up into the sky we go
till we were sent crashing
into the land far below.

Air like a jet quickly gushes in
floods all the senses
overwhelming all know feelings.

Suspense
got redefined
in the moment of mid air.

Both space and time
transcend by the descend
and the afterthought that never leaves my mind.

Asphyxiation, overtaken
turned into muffled
by an invisible hand bent on silence.

My body continues feels the flight
though my feet firmly stands
upon refined sand and granite.

Journaling in 7 mins

Did this while on the workshop. A 7 minute process where you just let your thoughts flow and pen down whatever comes, even if it is 'blank'. Lucky for me, the words are appearing. Perhaps its the topic.

Why i choose to
to be a volunteer.
You ask me,
I don't know.

But i did ask
this question
to myself long time
ago.
And lots of time
before.
Sadly to say
there never was
at all once
a conclusion
to top it all off.

One thing maybe
i can be
slightly
very much sure of.
Is that
while volunteering,
the feeling
i'm getting
is so much fun
and happening.

We had good times,
and bad,
with sweat and tears
but we don't stop
for it is
a team
a team that score
that's why we do not
wish to stop.

Forward and forward we go.
As long as everyone
is here together,
there we'll go.
No bed of roses.
No summer breeze.
As long as
everyone is together,
there we'll go.

Anyway,
there was once
i did wonder
what life would be
without volunteering.
So dead and empty,
i dare not dream.

That's for the 7mins. Shorter than i thought. But it was good.

Dreaming of Waking Up from a Dream

Weirder and weirder dreams seem to go
but other than here,
where else could things take on a different flow?

A failure attempt
for making the scheduled evening run
for i lost to the comfort's temptation.

If not for that,
how else could this post come about,
to talk of the weird cycles of my head.

No recollection of what went prior
to my waking up
from my sleep in dream land.

All i could find
was myself on my bed
trying to make sense what was going on.

Answer i found not,
except my glasses which i wore
though i had few to begin with.

Something was wrong,
a cut that all suffered
to the frame and lens.

The slice was clean
and by no means
are works from chance.

So as i sit there thinking
bringing to me astonishment,

as i faced a minor change of scene

Still in my bed
with the lenses gone
lying there with my blanket and all.

Way. Lost.

Sometimes you feel lost,
tired, don't know where to go,
like the lights been turned out,
running in circles in a round about.

Sight getting dimmer,
temperature going lower,
even the feeling of failure
also got intensified further.

Just keep heading on,
the walk seems ever long,
and to where you wonder,
despite telling yourself it doesn't matter.

Maybe you'll find a way,
soon or perhaps taking days,
but if you can't find yours
no one could bring you out from lost.

Overwritten

Start keying in words,
new contents,
replacing the blank.


What was once written,
now replaced by
things totally unlike.


Like a castle after siege,
intruders rushing in,
claiming the treasures within.


So what's left of the denizens
after the conquest
now the occupation has come to a rest.

Hidden away,
or probably whatever took place
would need them seeking solace.

Now all that newly written,
the ink with its traces
left to the successors.

But what used to stand before
and almost lost
now faces a new reform.

let it burn

The smoke,
the smell
so clearly in sight.

Yet all passerby does
is avoid and move away
from plain sight.

Those already there
choose to be oblivious
to that flame in the bin.

Let it burn,

let it burn,

let it continue burn.

Carry on with your lives
so long its not your possessions
caught in the fire.

Who knows what else
the flame will consume
to appease a growing hunger.

Once its too big
and far from contained,
it will really take its fill.

Let it burn,

let it burn,

let it continue burn.

Insanity by Solitude

These walls,
white with a unreal ceiling,
was quiet,
save for
the ventilation of the room
and my body system.

The chair,
with wheels and cushioned backing,
i am,
thankful for
the comfort provided that is
much needed for some thoughts.

The clock,
with three hands moving non stop,
it goes,
tick tock
upon which i stare at
hoping for some enlightenment.

Her

I feel comfy when I'm with her,
the feeling that someone
understands and cares,
maybe more than i do.

The one who brings the smiles,
shows that lonely is not at all
what i look for
and that i have the capacity for one more.

Knows me like a friend,
adores me more than one,
and my companion for
the long walks and more to come.

The Seer

It might take a seer
to see past
what is before our eyes,
and awaiting to happen.

That is affected
by our decisions,
and hopefully,
all is not pre-determined.

Otherwise,
actions and decisions
would have been
all in vain.

Extra pair of gloves,
checking the blind spot,
another round of check
with a trip to the to-do list.

Precautions we might take
to avoid the pitfalls
hidden right before us,
escaping potential tragic story.

The best choice
can only prove its worth,
at the very ending
to the person having the last laugh.

So can we hasten
the scenario a little bit
even for a tiny weeny bit will do,
and spare me the agony of waiting.

Would someone,
get me a seer?

Certain

Certain things
still hold a certain sense
of uncertainty
until it can be made certain.

Who knows

Who knows
what tomorrow holds,
despite all that you can plan.

Who knows
where the wind will blow
despite what the weatherman may say.

Who knows
when chances will come knocking
despite everything is under your constant gaze.

Who knows
how the ending will be
despite you being the pen and author.

I don't. Do you?

Stops

Around 10 more stops to go.

Soon soon I'll hit my stop.

Meanwhile my ride shall follow,
wherever the tracks shall go,
like rivers flowing to the sea,
to home my destination be.

Pen and Master

If the pen calls me no master,
or friend if it prefer,
whom where shall verses appear,
lest they grow from thin air.

The thing about NO

We say NO to things,
putting a hand to things,
preventing possibilities,
even that of the very necessary.

But the only real NO only comes
at the moment when we decide
to call off the fight
and admit defeat.

Victory is hard earned,
as it takes one to persevere
like a blade to be forged,
passing through the toughest of fire.

Let us be jolly
and well tonight,
we all champs
in our very own right.

Would You, Reprise.

Few words would be
what's gonna make thing work
for what we have down here
is something really critical.

After those hours and seconds
that flew us past
with traces of memories,
highlighted with emotions.

Now long awaited,
as I hold this moment dear,
only to ask,
and not to just about anyone,

Would you be my lady?

Part 8 - Thank You

Not enough to express
what I seek to say,
or that gratitude instilled.

But sometimes we should just look
to the simplest methods,
that we all knew.

Here's thanks,
thanks,
and thanks again.

For making all thus far
a wonder that i would be reluctant
to have it rewritten in any other way.

Thank You.

The day is good.
The presents are great.
But your, are still the best.

Part 7 - Presents

Count on surprises,
to bring smiles to your face,
cut that frown away,
shall there be one to begin with.

Deeply amazed at the feat
brought by the many,
at no synchronization,
actions unmistakeably in tune.

The needs or wants,
all well answered,
though no clue or hint
was ever given.

That all,
forming perfect matches,
as though all of it,
was tailor made.

Even if all gifts
were not to be there,
presence of your
shall already make me glad.

But don't take that totally
and skip the presents all together,
for I very much wish
to be surprised once again.

Part 6 - Celebration

The time is set,
the place is set,
and the people seems
to be coming in set.

Surrounded by funny wallpapers,
games from the shelves of collection,
and then the menu
pointing towards food and hint of payment.

Jam of the music,
beats hitting award,
add that couple of failed attempts,
and you got yourself a new band.

The game that took ages to explain,
met with its demise,
as the end came prematurely,
at the closing of a plan.

Snapshots and shutters,
the flash and the glasses,
moments are taken,
for everybody's share.

When coffee is out of reach,
go for the ice cold dessert instead,
they prove more than enough
to bring a smile to anyone's faces.

That should conclude,
the evening that we all gathered,
what's left could possibly be,
another of it next year.

Part 5 - Actual

Could say its a date,
nothing more than numbers,
except the fact,
they exist commonly on calenders.

Like all things we dealt with,
the meaning only exist,
when we allocate to it,
a value that we make sense of.

So this day didn't stand out,
hours and minutes rushing past,
like they do year round,
no attempt to hasten or slower.

As much as I tried
to have it over and done with,
my mind gets clouded,
with ideas sprouting away.

At last out of my expectations,
the problem was solved
and went on towards an ending,
that couldn't have been better.

Came to Talk: Kind

I trust that we are the kinder people
who wish to lend a hand to those in need
but to continue to sustain this helping hand
some form of self preservation is clearly in need

Came to Talk: Save

Sometimes you have to tell yourself,
that if you don't learn to save yourself,
there might be no one else around,
when you need to be saved.

Came to Talk: Existence

The butterfly flutters
from flower to flower
enjoying nectar
and summer shine.

But one must remember
its the butterfly that exist
and thrives
for the flowers.

Part 4 - Cake

Highlight
of the night.

To mark the day,
you came to stay.

Sweet as it would be,
every mouth fills with glee.

One thing that i see we all share,
that tells me a bunch of people really care.

Part 3 - Wishes

Cancellation,
one after another,
off my list.

Thinking very hard,
to replace each of those
struck off entries.

Did yours diminish
like mine did,
to the verge of disappearance.

I could find nothing more,
for all I needed,
were by my side.

And anything more,
would just be a chase,
that is as good as it last.

Part 2 - Candles

Five hundred
Twenty Six thousand
and Six hundred.

Ticks of the hand.
That we are subconsciously
being surrounded by.

Blink and its over.
Just make sure you don't
find yourself where you were.

Now it just feels like,
all they do,
is to pass us by.

Part 1 - Card

No.

Can't see where its going.

Or that.

I've lost interest.

Simply put it.

Let's just do without it this time.

Rain, Wind.

Long time,
since the writing
of rain came
visiting this space.

Perhaps back then,
there was
pretty much nothing
to write about.

Now these,
strong rain
and heavy wind
came blasting.

Read those words,
and point out
the mistakes
if you do see them.

It was deliberate,
just felt that
we do not have to be
right all the time.

Why won't you,
take a chance
and celebrate
failures with me today?

Maybe you would,
and we can sit here
staring at raindrops
and listen to the wind.

Coming Danger

Its bound to come,
no matter what is said.
Be the intention kind,
or just a product
of unforeseen circumstances.

Slip away to a corner,
or the shadows unseen.
Stay low stay quiet,
as you disappear
from their memory.

Stand strong and fight back,
even if what comes will sting.
That you got to,
be able to endure
the possible pain.

So when it really comes,
what do you do?
Hide away or fight?
There's no wrong or right,
only what you really do.

it all started with a bad choice

Which lead to a trip
to a destination
that should not have been at all.

But lucky the way
things had turn out,
else we are all in for grumbles.

Old friends
are no doubt reliable, and
constantly surprising you in every way.

Took a long walk,
down tar layered tracks,
heading down along unfamiliar roads.

Long time since
we last walked so much,
for no one else we knew were keen on such.

In search of food,
brought us far,
finding our way back to a once upon a time stop.

Had our fill,
paid the bill,
mission accomplished and back to home we chill.

zzzzzz

Z-z-z-z-z-z-z
Is that what we really say
when we get to sleep?

Or does it happen
or possibly delibrately
being used to denote an ending.

Just like how the alphabet
does similarly
as the final one of the series.

Search.

Kept my eyes open,
on the lookout,
in front of me,
a huge crowd.

Tracing back to
a familiar place,
trying to relive
memories from younger days.

Back then,
things were simpler
and probably with no clues
about the future.

Every single time here
was about fun and the team,
till one day I saw,
you across the street.

It was like natural response
yet so unreal,
as my eyes
were simply drawn to you.

The way you performed,
that stood out,
displaying character,
that i very much sought.

The first step the toughest
made me ponder over and over
before i dare make the
unforgettable venture.

That took care of the start,
of how we met,
what follows was not great,
but not entirely bad.

Perhaps a matter of personality,
likes and habit,
that put us poles apart,
then i realize we can't bridge.

Throw in distance.
and reduce the time on hand.
We are not measuring speed,
but the heartache separation can land.

Days followed where I felt,
that things can't go on anymore,
took the plunge,
and whatever we knew just took the fall.

Try erasing the hurt,
but the memory will still last,
for its never really possible
to let go of the past.

I could remember being like the dwarf
who was so taken by the white lady,
Just to see her once again,
he became the first of his kind to cross the sea.

So what would i do,
if once again i see you.
The words that comes to my mind,
are distinctly few.

A little hope still exist,
if we could turn back time
take a different turn,
through another choice.

But where are you,
where are you,
I'm searching,
keeping my eyes peeled.

A-D, F-L, N, P-T, V-X, Z

Can you please turn off the lights,
I wish to be in solitude tonight.
Solitude, not alone alright.

The latter is much more saddening,
as solitude is of your own choosing,
alone is when people start leaving

YOU.

Nothing ever feels right nowadays,
conversations with no words to say,
and the skies a constant shroud of gray.

Food would taste milder,
the world all sound softer,
creates the feeling there will be no longer

ME.

Un-Worth-y

She makes me feel
worthless,
undeserving,
when she goes about her rantings.

The each and every little thing
which brings you down
to a level of discomfort
one would very much want to get out of.

Needless to say,
the doubts and uncertainties
that clings on tightly
and floods your head with unanswered blanks.

Now it all gives the feeling
of being an item in a shop
stripped of a label or price tag
because its believed never to need it.

We could have done without praises
but these words of unjust criticism
shreds me to pieces
without any mercy given.

Sadly this is only one of the reasons
this soul continues
to scream out in silence
in the dark and lonely room.

Would You?

If you would, if you would,
Be my valentine,
For I really wish I could,
Call you mine.

We don’t have to wait
For fourteen days into
The month to celebrate
Joyous days that are coming through.

Simply a yes,
And that will do,
For there’s nothing that can best
Any other words from you.

Well, other than ‘I love you’.

The sun, the moon,
Or the rainbow’s sparkle,
Name it and they will be yours soon,
Even faster than any starlight twinkle.

My feelings is akin,
To that of a summer’s breeze,
Enveloping you as it blows past your skin,
But all I want to do is to bring you smiles and glee.

No one else that I’ve seen
Catches my eye
This is something
I can’t seem to simplify.

All I say is truth be told,
Awating a reply I desire from no other.
Even if it’s just a nod,
That will suffice in filling my life up with colors.

So would you be my valentine?

Short Script

The little words that bonds we,
Now feels beyond my reach
Blurring the sight of you
Despite all is still in view.
Rekindle the memories,
Light up the flame,
Don’t leave me stranded,
Like a lost man on the beach.

Walk Till Time Stops

Past the dawn,
through the plot,
sheltered by canopy of green.

Lamps stood along the way,
into the dimly lit path,
where shadows follows.

Pair of footsteps,
greeting the park,
though the fallen leaves.

Dried and cracked,
they littered the ground,
like a carpet laid for guests.

Air was getting steamy,
but the walk still keeps on going,
so long the path does not show an ending.

Till the stairs the path leads,
underneath the starry night sky,
with the luminous moon nearby.

Gazing at the worldly bodies,
speaking of now and the then,
wouldn't it be nice,

if time could stop at this instance.

Train, fault

Look up above,
starlight shadowed
by the flooding
city lights.

Stuck on a journey
to get back home,
from a place which for me,
is quite unknown.

Before i go on further,
question on my mind is,
why won't she have that little walk
else all these won't have happened.

Not a mere shake on the train,
heard a bang somewhere,
and we all stop
on the next available port.

All caught unaware,
till instructions came
and chased everyone out,
as staff ran across the train.

Apparently its a fire,
with the extinguishers in their hand,
nothing more was seen,
the burnt smell about to become a pain.

Now i recall,
the video that is always playing,
and talks about the worst scenario,
which we now try to avoid having.

For this moment i realized fear,
that if things were out of hand,
there's no getting out
of this basement in once piece.

So again i ask,
why didn't we take the walk?

Gloomy. Day. In.

The onslaught of the rain,
caused the downfall of a dream.
The run was canceled,
an evening to be spent under shelter.

Gloomy day,
both inside and out.
Listen to sad songs,
really doesn't help.

Listing out
and submitting to the hard facts
became the solution
to find a smile.

Give a break.
Break away.
Away from it all.
All of it.

Hearing voices,
writing verses,
makes me feels much better,
though there is still no laughter.

Why. Bother.

Why bother,
why bother,
and please spare us,
all the trouble.

Its obvious,
that you are quite oblivious,
to our thoughts,
and that is quite serious.

Why force upon us,
to come together and discuss,
that which we do not love,
though we did not make a fuss.

It was really tense,
yet it was common sense,
that stop me,
from making some offense.

Let's see how it turns out,
as people talk about,
or leave it in a corner,
in a shadow of doubt.

Replay

Sing me a sad song,
cry me a lullaby,
bleed me a poem
and remind me of you.

Not that it will hurt,
its purely for remembrance,
that it has once happened,
not to be forgotten.

And bring back
from my memories,
each and every little thing,
that has been done before.

Its not the first time,
doubt it will be the last,
for its me who have allowed it
to happen once and once again.

Digging out the memories,
from sometime ago,
and look at a replay,
that matches what is now.

No regret,
no lament,
trust in my actions,
and move on further.

Passing and The Not

So what is the problem
with failing?
Reckon it as red stains
upon some important papers.

But who is there
to give a grading
this time round
when its no exam?

Experience is a hard teacher
they say,
who gives the test first
and the lesson later.

I'll rather listen
to the person who didn't succeed
and not the one who boast
of never failing.

For it is a good chance
that he has never tried hard enough.
And that failure,
is a much better teacher.

If you are wrong
admit it,
even if you are,
much more senior.

And make yourself
the best lesson
that can be taught
to any other.