Posted in Architecture & Design, Current Affairs, Film, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Society, Travel, tagged abode, again, air, ajar, alien, all, ancient, ashame, away, back, bay, beg, being, bits, break, breath, bring, call, choice, cleanse, clear, cobwebs, companion, conquer, constant, contain, country, cover, crab, creak, dapple, days, distance, door, dust, embrace, endurance, faded, failure, familiar, fear, flaw, forgiveness, forms, ghost, grand, habitation, happiness, haunted, hermit, hero, hidden, home, hope, house, immortality, imperial, inconsistency, instead, keep, lapse, life, lifeless, lightness, living, lonely, long, lost, magnanimity, make, memento, memory, never, occupying, once, open, own, parade, past, patient, peel, photographs, pieces, pilgrim, poem, poetry, prison, rebuild, recapture, relevant, remaining, remains, room, sad, savor, seek, sequence, shadow, sheet, shell, show, silence, snapshot, solitary, sound, space, spirit, suffering, sunshine, swept, take, tension, torn, transform, visitor, wail, wait, walk, wall, we, welcome, white, window, years, yesterday on July 3, 2010|
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No hero’s welcome.
No grand parade.
Is waiting for the door left ajar.
Only its creaking sound
breaks the silence. And the breathing air
of some familiar spirits. I am once-
a familiar visitor in this house.
All that remains are lifeless forms
who have patiently waited here
Am I? Like a hermit crab
occupying this once solitary shell.
Called to embrace the shadows again.
Recapturing the lost and faded
photographs and memories
of the distant past. Forgive me.
For I came back not to rebuild
your imperiously alienating walls
I have suffered to endure. The magnanimity
of this abode, on which I failed
to contain the tension. Conquering
the many days and the years living
in the fear that haunted me. As I
have walked away to seek my own.
Yesterday will be torn into relevant bits
and pieces. As mementos and snapshots
I will keep them at bay. Never again would
memories imprison me into its walls
like ancient ghosts wailing, begging
to bring them back to their immortality.
I will clear away the cobwebs.
I will swept away the dust, making room
on these lonely spaces. I came back.
To cleanse this home of its sad sequences.
I will peel away the white sheets
that has covered the flaws, the lapses,
and the many inconsistencies in our lives-
we are ashamed to show. But instead,
we kept hidden for so long.
I will open the windows, taking in
the sunshine and the country air
and hope- as its constant companion.
Savoring the remaining days
choosing to be happy. A pilgrim
transforming this house into a habitation.
The dappled lightness of my being.
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Tourists At The Beach
Posted in Art Scene, Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Poetry, Relationships, Social Commentary, Society, Sports/ Leisure, Travel, tagged avoid, away, balloons, beach, begin, being, blank, blown, blue, boats, bob, bothway, bury, chase, children, come, couples, devoid, down, dream, drift, empty, fade, false, float, gaze, glance, go, happiness, happy, high, kites, leisure, lost, man, me, mute, noon, ocean, out, own, people, pleasure, poem, poetry, race, reach, run, sand, shadows, shelter, sideways, sight, smile, Society, solitary, space, stare, subdue, surf, together, tourist, toward, try, umbrella, walk, waves, weight, white, wind, woman, wonder, you on January 5, 2012| Leave a Comment »
We walk along the beach to see
the happy couples like us staring at the ocean.
And see how the waves come and go
subduing our blues, buried under the sand.
Did we become a tourist of our own,
devoid of pleasure on being together?
We walk like solitary man and woman
glancing sideways, avoiding leisure
as if children were lost running both ways
chasing happiness out of sight. Dreaming
of lost balloons. Of lost kites. Of empty boats
bobbing, floating and drifting away.
We smile blankly and falsely wonder
about the beach umbrella blown in the wind
and the white surf racing past each other
to reach you. And me, while I am trying
to mute down my gaze towards a space
where shadows of people begins to fade
under the sheltering weight of the high noon.
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