Posts Tagged ‘corner’

You chose not

to keep memories.

Not to keep promises.


But I chose-

to keep,

each single imagery,

each single scene

into a film.


Tell me  a word.

And whisper niceties.


I consummate,

each single  line,

each single thought.

You must know.


I had kept you.



some faded photographs-

of us.


In the quiet corner

of my mind.


We dream.

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Perhaps, Teofi

the promises of your future withers too soon

like the leaf falling early in the summer

where we frolicked in the fountain of our energies;

and bask in the heat of our freedom;

and in the nest of fermenting dreams with another human.

I can tell Teofi, how sad is the early goodbye

where you breathed your last and let go

without questioning  who deserves to live more

and without crying over your half-empty cup.

So long that I suddenly stop, I remember

your acid- washed litanies and the morbidity

of your soul longing to be understood.

I fail to grasp the hidden images of your words

to the point of harboring steely tears

over the innocence of your chameleon smiles.

Perhaps Leden,

I cannot fathom the depths of your pain

as if the morrow of your life leaking silently

until the thousand roses leave those lips.

I may not hear you scream to the bowels of the night

fighting the demons of what cruel love has.

Let me feel, the inability of you pointing fingers

to a person who has destroyed your world as if

I can paint the sky with hatred and revenge.

Let me hear  you sing in the divine discontent

of your heart seeking to embrace

the fullness of the glorious unfolding

beyond the corners of your abode.

Perhaps Grandpa,

I can cry me a river searching for the clown

of my many Christmasses and Easter Sundays.

Of letting the clouds softly traversing

like the music of the yesteryears

you keep playing on the radio.

I can say that you choose to live the most

but you never have told me that I

will be missing so much a part of the child

that was taken from me since you’ve gone.


I would have not lived at all since then,

of querrying, of imagining how death

must have snatched me from my mother’s hand.

All along,  I might be carrying this imaginary coffin,

grieving among the countless earthworms swarming

and crowding the earth

in the numbness of our existence.

Forgetful and aimless like a dead man walking.

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Each rainy day on this side of my life is a quiet and lovely moment.  Where palette of memories and aspirations are painted on that fragile canvass of my mind.  It is a fine time where the four corners of my isolation will become the universe and the walls become the vast horizons of my own imagination.

How simple are those days of hoping and drifting to spaces I am longing to go.  And the days of dreaming stretched like long shadows in the past moving forward.  And they have become partly a reality now. 

I am longing to go home to the place where I am safe from the vanities of this world.  To my Wuthering Heights. To my manor houses and beautiful bridges.  To commune with Robert Frost and Edgar Allan Poe.  And have a romance with  Sara Teasdale and Emily Dickinson.  To view each sunsets with Jane Austen.  And listen to the rhythms of Phil Collins.  Or hear the piano symphonies of Richard Clayderman. 

Here in this four corners of my sanity, that the expectations of the world extinguishes.  Here in are the murmurings of the soul are heard audibly and each emotions are truthfully expressed.  Here in no one will ever enter to criticize my inner fragilities.  And where shedding of my tears is allowed. Here in the loneliness is a friend and not an enemy.  Here in, my tears are the proof of courage.

I will watch the sunset and salute to eternity.  In each farewell is a golden ray.  Where glory is never lost but always remembered.

I will not fear the night, because the raven will sing the sweet song to lull me to my sleep.  It will bring me back to the good friends and people I have lost to the day.  Yes, I will not fear the night, where the stars of Orion will be on guard to watch over me as long as the day breaks.  And angels await there basking in the dawn. 

I am coming home again. Coming home to my dwelling place that comforts this world-weary traveller.  As if the universe of my humanity will be there to welcome their once lost child.

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