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Posts Tagged ‘harbor’

You will find me here sitting

at the end of the sentence-

like in a breakwater. Waiting

 

for ships and vessels of words

in this twilight seeking

the meaning of this impending

darkness.  When

 

it anchors and begins to unload

subtle images of this lonely harbor.

Watching the past

sinking down

 

along

with my heart.

 

And the sky will once again-

dotted by inkblots.

Smeared into the face

of this teary evening.

While time slowly

freezes, then fades into

early hours till daybreak,

unfinished.

 

When I am not

being able to say

goodbye.

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Ten years. This was how long, I have mended a broken heart. I have kept something deep inside me a special spot that no one could ever find. A spot that I have built for myself a castle of dreams of many “could have been”.

There are no words could ever describe a deep yearning. Where pain emanates from my eyes and trying to conceal them through laughter.  Sealed them carefully through the passing of time. That was the hardest and have made me unbreakable like a steel.

The throbbing of the heart. The drifting memories.  And the sweet surrender. It is the heart that never forgets.  It is the soul searching for its beloved.  And the mind that has conjured thousand images of make-believe.  Hoping that this time, it’s for real.

Like a fragile glass. Precious to behold. It is all I am keeping within these hands. As if eternity will remember a love treasured, labored and accepted. A sacrifice that is worth the lifetime of happiness. Of this imperfect world. Of this imperfect being.

If paradise is here within me. Then I must be contained. But in chaos and the world’s maddening crowd, the memory of you serves as an inspiration. An escape. A beautiful dream. In you I find redemption from my fallen self.  I find peace like gentleness of the seawaves  crashing on my shore.

It is like finding a jewel that once lost.  It is like a lonely harbor waiting for the ship to come.  It is like the rose that never withers.  And if that comes. That day. That day. I cannot tell anymore if it is just a dream or a reality.  I cannot tell anymore if it is pain or happiness.

I will be lost. And cannot be found. If that happens, just hold my hand and wake me up. Help me believe it’s worth the wait.

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The island exudes its coastal charm from the harbour of Kowloon.  Aboard Star Ferry, I catch the glimpse of twilight and the splendor of night lights.  Hong Kong is truly a world class city.  With its skybending glass towers and enigmatic fluidity of its modern structures, my jaw drops in wonderment.

The vivid pictures of Hongkong starts from the bridge-like edifice of Hongkong and Shanghai Bank, the magnificent angular interpolations of Bank of China, the lego imitated Bond Center, the crowned jewels of IFC Towers to the almost glorious zenith of Central Plaza Tower.

The MTR trips from Chaiwan to Central gives me a tinge of isolation of being lost in translation.  The poignancy of the British Cantonese life in my eyes from the upper decks of the tram. The muted symphonies of trees in the Victoria Park.  The rushing excitement of uphill climb to the Victoria Peak.  And the rugged beauty of Lantau Island.

To the dazzling walkathons and window shopping at Times Square, Landmark, Pacific Place, the IFC and Festival Walk.  To the sleazy nighwalks at Wanchai, Lan Kwai Fong and Kowloon. Dimsum at Hongkong Jockey Club, the Excelsior  and the Dynasty at Grand Hyatt. The Sunday frenzy at the Chater Gardens and Statue Park where Filipinos would often crowd.

The KCR rides exploring the Kowloon side going to Shenzen exposes me to the University Grounds of Hongkong University of Science and Technology and the idyllic landscape of Lo Wu and Fan Ling.  The everyday bus rides to the Aberdeen Tunnel wishing I would have time to go Ocean Park.  No Disneyland itinerary here.

But my most memorable, my quiet taxi ride traversing Pok Fu Lam to Wong Chuk Hang. I tried to stay awake from the dizziness of the Airport Express train. I was even charged for about a hundred HK dollar going to the office, but its worth my honest mistake. 

I have seen the solemnity of Hongkong South.  The beautiful villas by the sea and the glistenning South China Sea in the high afternoon light.  I would imaginatively send my kisses through the wave back home.  Realizing that almost. Almost saved the images of Hongkong in my mind.

 

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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.

Perhaps,

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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