My days of the week

Monday,
I’m melancholic and sad
all I have are work, work, work
But though, I’m here
I know still, in day’s time
I’ll see you again.

Tuesday,
How I hope I could bump unto you
How I hope to catch a glimpse
of your wandering soul
but still, I know I expect much
from someone who disappears
so easily.

Wednesday,
My prayers are heeded,
I saw you once more.
Once, twice, no matter how many times.
I could just stare if not only
for my vanity and pride

Thursday,
yesterday’s happiness
seemed to overflow,
my desire is nothing more
but a speck of dust.
Though it is so,
it’s fine, I could still
offer you a smile
over hallway encounters.

Friday,
Again, it’s a day of completeness
I look at you, you look at me
then you nod and look down
down to your goal
down with your murmurs
and complicated terms.

Saturday,
I began to doubt
my own existence,
maybe I’m a ghost
maybe it wasn’t meant to be
yet maybe, you don’t
really know what I really feel

At last, it’s Sunday.
Another day, another week.
tomorrow would be another day
would you ever see me
in the light the way that I could?

-August 14, 2008

Bugs on the windshield

Damn those heavy traffics
every time the rush hour struck.
Every bus stops with people,
every train station jam packed.
I really hated those times.

Then the unfortunate thing
would be heavy rains.
rains, flooding streets and alleys
people running for shelter,
the brightly colored umbrellas
and thus the heavy traffic
begins to get worse.

Car skids leading to
unwanted accidents
pedestrians turning to morgues
everything is in perfect chaos,
horns honking, windshields flopping
and sometimes, lights like
Christmas nights.

Turned on the radio
while drowsily honking the horn,
that’s when I remembered
I haven’t turned the windshield on.

My old car, is ancient
I could readily tell
as the windshield turned on
along came, sliding by
the citizens of the underground.

You could readily tell
the car wasn’t often used
or was it that
it never really rained, till now
and one could readily assume
Why,
one could easily hate,
the rush hour traffic
and its accompanying rain.


-August 14, ‘08

Untitled

I have never felt this cold before.
Maybe it’s the wind that
accompanies it.
Maybe, its just that
The night is falling.
Or just the rain.

I walked.
With my black umbrella atop.
Shielding me from the cold drops
Sheltering me from the rain.

Yet it cannot shield
the water seeping through.
My feet were wet, and cold
Making my heart yearn,
wishing to run free
in the rain.


-23aug08

Untitled

I’ve signed up a contract
I didn’t know what it was
I thought it was something to do
And now I regret that I did.

A lawyer barged in through
took the black briefcase
and pulled out the cursed contract
which I had unconsciously signed.

I wasn’t unconscious
yet I wasn’t aware
I did signed it
Yet I didn’t know why

I felt like I was forced
I really wasn’t
I felt like I was bound
bound into chains
made by the contract.

Now, I know its content
I’ve learned by mistake
I can’t say I’m glad
I can’t even say I’m mad
I don’t know what to feel
For that stupid contract
I unwittingly signed.


-August 14, ‘08

Untitled

I wonder what it is,
when I see you…
it’s like I wanted you away
where I can stare at you
and yet eyes can’t even see
the whole of my hiding existence.

I wonder what it is,
when I never see you,
I wanted to break into
my own thoughts
and from there extract
tracing the whole of your soul…

If I could just forget
for a minute
what had occur,
would I ever wonder
what I’ve always wondered?


-September 11, 2008

Coccinea grandis

Green hearts on a tendril,
what are you trying to say,
with your shape and orientation
why can’t you be red instead.

Green hearts on a tendril,
is your edge naturally cut?
You make me think of something,
something I can’t consider nice.

It is of something not nice,
but it is not really rotten,
I can’t just account my feeling,
to what I had just experienced.

Little green stalks left without leaves
would it be heart?
Or would it be not?


-August 28, 2008

Footsteps on a seashore

You used to run
barefoot on a grassy plain.
You used to throw
off those dirty shoes.
You used to wait
with a pearly smile,
across the fences,
singing serenely,
looking like dawn.

Once or twice
you walked passed
barefooted still
bridging every stone steps
twirling at ease.
Once or twice
you nodded a hello
while balancing atop
the picket fence.

But still,
you never asked
And still,
you let me wait.
Are all those smiles
just for a distance?
Are all those nods
just for a play?

Finally, you moved
finally, you ran
across every barricade
among thorny paths
arms outstretched
flying in
on a tight embrace
but, yet,
you glided past
you embraced, yet,
with another me.

It was not me
who you saw.
It was not me
whom you know.
I know now,
you didn’t know.
I am but someone
you hardly see.
I am but a
footstep on a
sandy shore.


-July 28, 2008