[ w r i t t e n ] Mistaken Identity

I think I saw your ghost in his smile
Twin rows of gleaming porcelain,
The familiar gnawing of hungry pain.
You called my name in his voice
A wayward love song finding
its way back to an empty home.
Confusion clouds the assembly line of my thoughts
Once precise gears in perpetual motion
Mastering the art of not remembering.

You perfected skill of Disappearing
As the sun casts the  shortest shadow
His fingers send small clumsy currents
From my arms to my eyes, developing
Photographs of unwelcome memories
From a time borrowed and never paid back.
My eyes remain open, I no longer look for you.

The sun is low and the shadows long
But where one once stood, now
Two people, two shadows are walking.

***

This is my entry for dVerse Open Link Night, it’s such a shame that I am in a completely different timezone so I am quite late in posting. Unless I attune my body clock to their time! I hope someone comes and takes a look! (image taken at the ArtScience Museum’s Van Gogh Alive exhibit)

[ w r i t t e n ] this escape

If I close my eyes so tight

that everything else disappears,

swallowed by the great white light

moving farther away

a faint outline in the distance

If I climb the inside of a chimney

seeking what I have yet to know

bid goodbye to eternity

because all I have is NOW

and I’ll ever be is here.

If I spread my arms in winter

and wings take their place

I will soar into forever

Plunge into space of rainbow colors

only to fall down like rain

If the sky would cry before me

kneeling this spring afternoon

the tears would flow slowly

and crash into my palms

a million liquid crystals of sadness.

image via WeHeartIt

[ w r i t t e n ] Par La Mer

when I was five my father

brought me to the ocean for the first time

it was dusk, the sky bleeding violets,

oranges, reds and yellows.

I remember

the warmth of his hand as we walked to the water’s edge

the ocean is your friend, he softly said

whenever I’m not by your side,

whenever you miss me,

just remember this

then he swept me up with his arms and held me high

Daddy’s love for you is like this ocean

it runs deeper than what you can see

it can’t be measured by human hands

my love for you can carry you through the darkest storms

remember this always

Tonight, I found myself driving to the ocean of my youth

under the canopy of stars, I walked along the shore

feeling the waves tugging at my ankles

the waters reflect the summer night sky

even when I can’t be with you

my love remains always

[ w r i t t e n ] JoyRide (revised)

So this is the first time I’m going to do this – I’m going to ask for critique about the last poem I wrote (I was going to say recent but then again it wasn’t that recent!) . Over at dVerse, Luke shared some great insights on how to deal with redundant phrasing. I know that by putting this poem out for critique is equivalent to placing my head under a guillotine, but I have decided to take the plunge. The original poem can be found in this post originally title Nostalgic Ride.

We were ten and bored

the grown-ups hushed tones blanketed secrets

slippers tiptoeing towards a four-wheeled freedom.

door slamming , a wicked glint in our eyes

finally something forbidden

you grabbed the steering wheel

my feet propped up on the dash

heading out to a pretend somewhere, some place

hands sticking, fingering the wind

a rushing zoom fills my ears

a private joke, a burst of laughter

raised raw voices over the radio singing

Of foreign heartaches or of happy times.

one second it was the Pacific pristine and blue

in a blink it was the mountain ranges in Kathmandu.

flying to the moon defying gravity and rules.

how our hearts traveled when our bodies could not

waving our hi’s and goodbye’s to the people  we pass by

exchanging secrets, veiled dreams and mysteries

I miss those times, an exercise to the imagination

when we were not moving at all but we went far.

[ w r i t t e n ] Goodbye

“how long will you be gone?”
goodbye
“will i see you again?”
goodbye
“call me”
goodbye
“remember to write”
goodbye
“i need you”
goodbye
“i’ll miss you”
goodbye
“i’ll wait for you”
goodbye

[ w r i t t e n ] Bitter Aftertaste

I still remember. You poured tea for me that afternoon. Of all the memories that day, all that remains in me is how the clear, honey-colored liquid that seemed to stream down from your very arm, while your words fall on my ears like balm. How gentle you were preparing it for me, I watched transfixed at the calculated motions – sweeping, catching, slowly pushing the cup away.

The tea was warm when I placed the cup to my lips but like your words, it too, turned cold. Though you mixed in milk and sugar I tasted gall, and in that instant I knew you poisoned me. My mind in shock made my tears hesitant but slowly they found its way to the cup. Your tea and your words mingling with my love and my tears, a mix for the perfect sorrow.

I don’t remember, if I did drink it all. Did I leave some over? Or did I drink at all? Were my hands trembling when I set the cup down? When did the tears stop flowing? What happened next became hazy, the memory so altered over the years, left a stain on our history and haunted my memory.

When I drank your potion how was it that I forgot my words? How was it that I forgot my questions? Sitting across you, looking at you, what I mistook for serenity was actually coldness. Now, that the effects are wearing off, I wonder if you can hear me, if you can answer me this…

How can you smile while breaking my heart?

[ w r i t t e n ] Nostalgic Ride

[NOTE: In honour of the National Poetry Month in the US, I have been writing a poem-a-day. This poem was inspired by what my best friend and I did on weekends. Pretend road trips to the moon or the Grand Canyon when we were ten, this mostly happened on lazy Sunday afternoons, it's amazing how memories trigger scent and vice versa, I can still smell the car's scent!]

Remember when we were ten,

when the adults’ conversation turned to hush tones and we got bored?

We snuck through the back gate and hopped on my Daddy’s car.

You on the driver’s seat, with me by your side,

a wicked glint in our eyes, like we’re doing something forbidden

I popped a mix tape into the player

we both had our seatbelts on

and we’d pretend we’re going somewhere.

Sticking my hand out to feel the wind,

the rushing zoom fills my ears,

we’d laugh at some private joke

or sometimes sing out aloud over the radio.

Of a foreign heartache or of happy times.

And the places that we went to, we had great fun

We’d go to the moon defying gravity and rules.

We looked out of the window and told each other what we saw,

one second it was the Ocean pristine and blue

in a blink it was the mountain ranges in Kathmandu.

We waved our hi’s and goodbye’s to the people  we pass by

Talked of secrets, and of dreams and mysteries

I miss those times, an exercise to the imagination

we were not moving at all but we went far.

[ w r i t t e n ] One Star, Two Wishes

Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes–do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.
– Falling Stars, Rainier Maria Rilke

There is always something romantic and yet tragic about a clear night sky. He thought to himself, on this night, stars seem to hang brightly from a distance. He slid out of the hammock and walked towards the edge of the balcony, looking at the tiny diamonds that were scattered over the dark canopy of the sky. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shooting star blazes across the darkness.

“I want to know what love is, I want to know what love is!” , he shouted over and over with cupped hands over his mouth, chasing after the star until it disappeared from his sight. Breathless, a smile spread over his face, he walks back to the hammock, and climbs in. He was always a believer, most people will call him a dreamer, but he knows that dreams √ and even wishes can come true.

Little did he know, that on that same night, at the same time that the shooting star appeared across the sky, another wish was made.

“Bring me back what I’ve lost”, a bitter whisper from a broken man this time. He doesn’t watch the stars but turns around and steps back towards his bedroom. In the darkness, he stretches across his bed for another sleepless night.

And this story begins with one night, one star and two wishes, which one will be fulfilled?

[ w r i t t e n ] Fire on Fire

Because you are

the place where I really need to be.

With you I am airborne, indestructible

a blazing comet passing through the dark inky horizon.

You light up everything in me.

I can be who I used to be,

who I am,

who I’m supposed to be,

all at once.

You strike against my soul,

we make sparks, that give birth

to sparks,

going on forever

across the universe and back

to kindle us again.

You fire me up.

[ w r i t t e n ] LAST FAREWELL – A Draft

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the first draft of the story I wrote for a recent Swap-Bot Picture Prompt Swap. We are given a picture (of two rings) and we are supposed to write a story based on our interpretation of the picture. I was running late on writing this but thankfully made it on time. I’m adding this to my blog for reference and feedback. Hope you guys read it!

“Are you alone?”, I heard him ask, I was trying to shake away the blanket of sleep that had almost descended on me until the phone rang. Hiro, I recognized his voice, I made a mental calculation as to what ungodly hour he’s calling at, and concluded that it’s probably 3am. I cradled the receiver in between my ear and neck, “Hiro, it’s late, get some sleep”