Enchantment of the Winter Skies

Where memories were made of fresh fallen snow
and endless chill from the northern winds.
The land is harsh beyond compare,
leaving the strong to tread its face.

A coat of fur to protect against winter,
the hunter travels alone down the frozen trail.
Lost is he while he thinks about home,
a lone wolf that has left the pack for far too long.

And perhaps he is home,
as he imprinted another mark on seeming familiar snow.
But no matter how long you had been here,
you are just another stranger all vulnerable and cold.

He took a glance around and smelled the air,
wondering how this journey began.
Seeing shadows he looked up,
to find the source that brought about the dark.

He stared into a globe of light,
the moon in all its glory shining bright.
Taking a deep breath and called out he did,
in the only tongue he knew to the celestial that hung before him.

All he heard was the voice of the freezing wind,
while all else laid silent and still.
The lone wolf then sets off again,
stealing an occasional peek at the light above.

He's bounded for another trek,
a lifequest on this merciless land.
Where he knew he has to be strong,
to see the enchantment of the winter skies again.

The tribesman and the valley

When the valley echoes no more,
the tribesman knows its time to go.
Leave the land and leave a trail,
he will never cease to recall the the land he knew
and had love so deep for so long.

Canyons and mountains he journeyed,
the rivers and streams that quench and bath him,
all heard the story of his beloved home.
As he recited poems and sang the valley songs,
All full of emotion that he weep as he went along.

An old man he met on a winter's day
ask why he left the valley then.
The tribesman stopped and ponder.
"The valley, the valley echoes to me no more.
Now I'm an exiled, abandoned with no home."

He carried on walking down that snowy path,
trusting that to be the fate he was unjustly tasked.
His thoughts went to the stones and pebbles,
and the green grass that blanketed the earth,
upon which he used to run as he count the years.

On the plains that bore him no shelter,
a boy questioned if the valley exiled any others.
The tribesman stopped and ponder.
"The valley exiles no one but only a tribesman
can hear her voice and sweet whispers."

He grew tired with the day and so did his beard and locks,
many nights he spent under moonlight and sudden storms.
Drawing the only image that would not disappear, 
he made the ground he slept a giant canvas
which he house the valley like no other.

Upon the desert a nomad said if a tribesman he still is
then its the valley that stopped speaking.
The tribesman stopped and ponder.
"I am a tribesman not by the valley but my own being
then perhaps I should return to seek the reason within."

He turned back to the trails he came so far from,
across the rivers and streams that now knew his song.
The old man and the boy saw in his eyes,
the spirit of a man who is truly alive,
They gave the tribesman their blessings and bid him goodbye.

Back at the valley he waited and listen,
time passed and nothing happened.
The tribesman stopped and ponder.
He shouted out loud and sang his songs,
the valley now echoes once more.

He heard a whisper of sweetest voice,
it was the valley he recognize.
Why had he left right after an echo was missed,
did his love for the valley not sustain his belief?
The voice questioned while all he did was grin.

The tribesman knew if not for his love,
he would have never had returned.
All he had been was a fool to lose
the knowledge of what made him whom,
until the journey took him there and back again.

After the wait

The hours passed
And the night has left,
Would it still be morning
If the sun wasn't there?

The rain after the drought,
The end of a storm,
The first word from a child,
The waking up from a coma.

Each move of the clock
Slices away a little hope,
Just how much is left
When this trial shall end.

Time does not apply

There is no day,
There is no night,
No hours nor minutes,
Only matter of heartbeats.
The time that doesn't pass
Are moments that your pulse
Had taken a break.

Unsaid

After all this is a tool,
Never capable,
Of communicating
That of the unsaid.
And all that goes
Into the void,
To where it can be,
Loud in it's own right.

where I wanna be

Running in the morning,
a date in the evening.

Off reading another book,
wanting to be amazed beyond text and title.

Ink down another poem,
expressing emotions and scenes that appear.

See the world through the glass,
steal it away for a memory keepsake.

Catch a show on screen,
attention on the film and the one beside me.

Be on bed,
without staring at ceilings as the clock strikes late.

Weekends to be filled,
where your heart longs to be and feels good.


That's where I wanna be.

the hard, harder and hardest

Back after a long day,
what's hard is not work
but having to deal with yourself today,
facing your inflicted failure
and the flaws that took you here.

The harder part is knowing,
that you cheated yourself
saying that you been away toiling,
while you seek out holes and hide
hoping to be out of sight.

The hardest comes when,
you can't deny that you would never
settle for just taking an average man,
despite clipping your wings
and tell yourself you can never soar free.

This is casting random thoughts.

This is worse than bad today,
I need food to fuel my inners,
Curb its grumbles
And just to feel a little better.

Can someone fill my tank?
I'm almost all out
Like a doomed man
Left there hanging.

Couples sharing a moment
Lips to lips,
Parent and child together
Hand in hand.

Secret messages,
All in whispers,
The glimpse that was given,
Meant a thousand words.

Long for some contact,
Touch to the skin,
The air that surrounds
Makes me feel no heat.

Strike words to a friend today,
Guilty i should be,
To blame the bolt of negativity
That struck me so deep.

Now a convict off scot-free
Lament at his actions,
Spending his time wishing
All can be washed clean.

And ask me not to join in
The wilderness clan,
That direction hasn't been lost
Merely buried deep.

If there's one who's lost,
Then you are the one,
Seeking the presence of a body
To give you strength over the meek.

Tables around me
Full of chatter and smiles,
The seats by my side,
Lie empty and silent.

Was it consciousness
Or they got louder
Amplify the voices
From absent companions.

Gave in today
To a much lost craving
Of food that always seem
Much less deserving.

All in hope
That it will give
Some chance of joy
And lighten off this feeling.

Worked less than perfect,
Though it help raised
My hunger
From the state of poverty.

Music is drowning
Had i stopped listening
Like how i cease loving
The world i'm living.