Dear Beautiful People,
Yours truly is writing this to inform that there WILL NOT BE any poetry update in the month of December. But I will be posting four micro-fiction (Flash fiction) in December on every Friday, instead of fortnightly. So, that’s some bonus for all of us. *smile*
To be honest, I have other priorities – lots of readings to catch up, stories and poetry editing for any up and coming journal submission, plus I have to reply my pen-pals’ letters that I haven’t been doing for quite some time. Hence, please take note this is NOT my retirement from the poetry scene.
I hope everyone will still continue to support my work and me. Over here, I wish all of you an early Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Thank you very much…
Much love & With Utmost Appreciation,
Little by little;
dripping ’em in the jar
namely full of hope with no despair,
I can do thousands per day;
while some couldn’t even in a month,
Blame not the weather
that is of porn-interested mentality
Have you seen my hair clip?
The one I couldn’t leave without —
You then ignore as I’m rummaging
through your drawers and cabinets,
You detach it from a stack of script
and then put it on me before ambling
to the kitchen with my coffee mug.
I — should leave
for a place that
no one knows me
only to give credence to —
I have yet to witness
nor to feel — inhale with pride.
I bet they’re as
enigmatic like your eyes, lips
and everything about you.
and the future has abandoned you; but
has given me a breathe of new expectancy.
I have let go all the fuel,
Never I should look back in vain,
I shall admit this with no pang of shame,
for that genuine, considerate, faithful
love is all I ever needed.
Now back to test my patience and yearning,
Stoned and disbelief of what you just saw,
Sorry, but I am deeply affected
by this beautiful fantasy that to
balance my insatiable PH.
I spray ocean mist on me
because you’re obsessed with it.
You broke my Nirvana’s record
because I refused
to conquer the world with you.
Now I’m willing to delete our song,
Throw away your sweater; and
Donate those paperbacks you left behind,
If only I could dispose this feeling
of disappointment by substituting
that was of an ethereal and chiseled —
You were my lover,
I have loved and accepted
everything about you
Never mind those edges of danger.
Earphone’s back to normal
Your songs are audible,
Humming graces and thinking
what’s been clouding before us recently.