My child, grow as you would hope to be.
I am here, washing the dirty linen
and the soiled clothes thinking of you.
Who can tell? That the world in the future,
its circumstances be better. But I pray
that you may have the strength to face
each day with courage and dignity-
of choosing what is true and honest.
Defending what is right over wrong,
uncompromising to the virtues that I
am going to teach you. Please listen.
I am not the best and I am not perfect.
And I dream for you my child, a life anew.
Realizing the chance to fulfill the purposes
destined for you. Keeping steer of the pitfalls
I have done. Make a difference of your own.
Striving the very best that you can.
Standing up for what you believe in.
Though you may fall, there will always be
a chance to pick yourself up, to stand again.
Never quit. Never fear. God be with you.
And I hope you learn from my mistakes.
The misjudgment I did when I was
once a child like you. Growing up too.
Through my adulthood, deciding to love
another being and brought you along
amidst the pain, the hurt and the turmoil.
May it be- your life like these soap suds
clearing away the dirty traces of my past,
vanishing all the fears that I had before.
Starting the days wearing clean clothes.
Flood
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Nature, Poetry, Politics, Social Commentary, Society, tagged above, afloat, ants, away, bailout, bell, blab, body, breach, bring, capture, cards, carry, chew, clock, constant, corporate, days, deadlines, deep, detergents, doomsday, down, downsizing, drain, dreams, drown, enjoy, excitement, fade, figure, file, fill, filth, flood, flotsam, forgetting, glide, gossip, habit, hidden, hope, hours, how, hunger, keep, labor become, laundry, letter, levee, limbo, line, machine, minutes, miss, morning, mountain, myself, necessity, news, next, note, numbness, oblivion, out, overflow, overtime, paperwork, people, pick, pile, poem, poetry, press, punch, race, ranks, rat, resonance, rim, rinse, ritual, rolling, rush, sandbag, silence, smell, soak, soap, sound, spell, stains, straw, stream, suffering, tap, termination, thank, thin, think, tick, time, train, treatment, tub, wait, wash, water, way, weekend, whine, worry, yesterday on June 7, 2013| 4 Comments »
The hours tick like sound of punch cards
in this corporate machine treating
people like ants filed into ranks.
Mountain of paperwork piled up
into sandbags. Bring it on, breach
my levee and let me drown forgetting.
Labor becomes a habit. Of numbness
and enjoying the suffering.
Like the sound of water from the tap
during a morning ritual in oblivion-
silence resonates like a hidden bell.
I wait until it fills the tub overflowing
down the rim and the clock raced
to the minutes rushing for the train.
Like the way the thinning soap glides
my body and the necessity to wash
away yesterday’s worry-rat smell-
that doomsday spell. A thank you note
and the termination letter. The downsizing
and the news keep rolling off the press.
People pick up some gossips to chew
and I am excited to blab my hunger.
Like the constant whining of the weekend
laundry, hoping detergents rinse the stains
and filth of missed deadlines. And overtime.
And I got the time to soak away thinking
about the next line to a poem, capturing it
before it goes down the drain. In limbo.
And I hope to keep afloat above it
like a flotsam of dreams in a stream
carried away in the fading of days.
Figuring it out how to bailout myself
like a straw in deep water.
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