The Poetry Marathon

I can’t see much out this window. 24

Dawn has not yet raised its head

The road is dark, save two cats

who use it as an asphalt bed

Barely visible in lamp light dim

The yard is black save a dead-wood bench

And a stump with countenance grim

And though I know the garden exists

In this non-light, it’s just vague pots

with black silhouettes the sleeping plants.

And while I’m not one to make called shots

I think there is still quite a chance.

Dawn has not yet raised her head

So I might still get to bed.

 

(#7/24): “Truth”

We should talk more.

So I’ve been told.

Let it all out.

Express my emotions.

Share my thoughts.

Say how I truly feel.

 

This psychology on a dime,

May all be very fine.

But you have known me all this time,

That I cannot reveal any secrets of mine,

For again, need I remind,

I can only talk in rhyme.

 

© 2017 S Phua

It Was Only Yesterday

In the same

Yesterday’s dawn

Only now, the end has drawn

 

Waters still and calm

Though I know

Sleep won’t come

 

Easily, on weakened

Knee

 

Knowledge, and experience

Though, forlorn

Picked up, like stones

Upon, a dreamt up shore

 

If only dreams

Were giants

Crushing, forever more

Incasing thoughts

 

I am, a worthy poet

My battle

Hard fought

 

Safe and sound

As this dawn sings

In Victory

Hour 24: blooming

blooming

the rosebush
despite my neglect
blooms again
the tiniest buds
are hard red things
but as they open
they fade to tangerine
and then to peach
meanwhile
becoming less tough
less closed-off
softer
freer
as should we become
as we grow and
blossom

 

Unrealistic Soul

My soul is unrealistic
He says as wind design
You fly the metal earth
And followed your divine

He left the words
Upon my lips
Sou d and rhythm
Slowly dripped

It pumped my blood
It gave me life
It spoke my secrets
To the night

What makes your dream
The one that’s right
The burn in you
The driving fight

The blessings that fall
In your lap
I have them too
And am on track

Just like you
I made a plan
And follow it
As time commands

Food

I always eat it
My belly grumbling sounds
Like angry demons

(#6/24): “Comfort”

Seeing my bold child,

Taking off her training wheels,

Oddly reassures.

 

© 2017 S Phua

Hour 19 – Catch the Grains

It exists only in a shop in West Texas

(I changed the location to protect the innocent)

(I won’t change much else)

Knowing the item for purchase would bring little value to my life

As I stand in the gift shop

With some girl whose family I feel closer to

Than her

Even then, an understanding that belonging does not mean becoming

My hand catches an hourglass

Beautiful sand poured

Multiple colors racing towards

A tiny juncture

Which aligns the grains

 

No holes in this glass

And what of the sand

How can you count on something if you do not know the number

Pouring constantly, pouring without any doubt

The sand will always be there

Nobody panics inside of an hourglass

(Nobody lives inside of an hourglass)

Best to just settle and then pour out

Constantly flipping

Constantly flipped

Over to keep track of someone else’s existence

 

I came because I was invited

By the family

I stand here holding, knowing,

I can’t really buy anything

This is not my home

I do not really know these people

And so I will continue

Racing toward the tiny juncture

Finding and settling in rest when it is time

Pouring and pouring

 

They bought me a gift

HOUR20

Nature, my friend

 

I love nature and she loves me back.

The wind caresses my hair, the waterfall

caresses my ears, clouds simply embrace me.

 

Butterflies spread their wings, bees do their work,

everything is fine when I plant flowers in my garden.

And I do this thinking of you my love!

From My Window

Neon lighted night sky gently gave way to light

stretched out beyond the glass canopied bar,

a field of lush tall green

comforting my long opened and reddened eyes, peaceful and quite serene

cool breeze passes through my curtain, welcomed and at home.

 

at the crosswalk a lone runner at her leisure sails through on a red uninterrupted by the usual

traffic

pale umbrellas shade sidewalk tables

as the as the sun climbs up and warms the streets

a glorious southern summer sun day approaches – it most likely will be real warm