Convergence of Time

(Frosted by Robert’s words)

 



Older now, and tired.
I just want to take
the quiet road.

 

 

**hour 13, written off-site and posting late**

Poem #20: Velvet Ribbons

Velvet Ribbons

Something in my eye—is it gloom again?
A myth made for morose men
Tells of those chosen by subliminal declamations,
Who scream at the sky and one-sided reflections.
Shells I wish not to collect,
Resound after an emptiness that forebodes catastrophe.
Esprit de corps and an emotionless elect,
Survives in the torment of the earth and mind, the decimation of body.
A star of serenity shackled in the dark,
Cringes as all but a heart hung dry.
Lead fingertips and sullen footsteps refrain distance beyond the mark,
And rivers like strands of string dangle over the edge.
Visions of a disembarking vessel down murky lanes,
And voices captivate my memory locked away from hearing;
Traveling tranquility trails on an endless turn of a road.
Never did I remember to check the time.
Hungry will I be by tomorrow as soon as tomorrow remembers.
Wheels crunch the dirt of the road,
My eyes are but passerby,
And latched hands are unlatching the door.
Shimmering rays of gold brighten up the field.
Barley brought in for the season,
Fidgety wagons creaking down wide bridle paths of grey,
And stained slacks and happiness are opening the farmhouse door.
A vague recollection unintended,
The house needs to be painted soon.
Chips away every second for a memory:
Exchanged till cessation decides to make an arrival.
Fluttering laced dress, white on the smoothness of skin,
Summer eyes and lucidity of complexion, says to me,
“Supper smells wonderful, my dear.”
And these memories of simplicity and warmth echo, as I am homely once again.
Removal of miniscule expectancy,
Deafness succumbed to repulsions to and fro,
Are incessant trifles to the shocked of heart.
Suddenly the rampart of soundness has been breached.
Returning to a hundred miles distant:
Crisp and flowing wind through golden crops
Consoles me, and a rampant grey is shunning the sun,
While bursting forces shatter the stems and splinter the earth.
“You silly.”
Breezes of complaisant remnants return over my heedless frame,
“My sweet, there is something I must tell you—”
As velvet ribbons clothe my fading attention.

Careful: Contents May Have Shifted

(a haibun)

 



My mama always said there are no good moves. Something always gets lost. Something always gets broken. Some last minute much-needed kitchen item winds up in a box marked Bathroom. There isn’t enough packing tape in all the universe for all of Granny’s heirloom eggs, which are on their 11th move in 20 years. We survey the world around us and deem many things we were just using yesterday as unfit for cardboard travel; relegate them to garage sale piles and secondhand store fodder. We fold our losses and fill the boxes and ask ourselves, What’s worth keeping?


Pack up all you are.
Arrive on the other side
fragile, and less whole.
 

 

**hour 12, written off-site and posting later.**

Hour 15–Love Letter

Dearest Smoofinator,

veteran of the wars

survivor many times over

in whom deep valor abides

at this moment the most meaningful gesture of love and respect I could offer?

To clean your neglected litter box

I sally forth on said task now

with apologies

sincere

 

Shadow

Here’s the thing

I grew up in your shadow

Everyday

Your darkness

Drowned my sunlight

I couldn’t compete

Everyone flocked to you

You were the rock star

The violent one

The crazy one

I stood back hidden in the shadow

I raised your kids

Soothed their wounds

Hell I still do

I love you I do

But I am tired

Tired of being the shadow

Tired of licking wounds

I am out of salve and patience

I warn people

I do

They never listen

They don’t really know you

They see what I want to see

The fun, the laugh

But I know what is underneath

I have been there

Thru it all

I know your shadows are darker

Your crazy is deeper

Your haunting laugh

Is as phony as your tears

You aren’t real

You never were

I know that because I was there

You are the shallow end of the pond

The pretty flowers don’t go very deep

The petals blow away quickly

I suppose you don’t mean

To hurt the ones who love you

But you always do

Always

I wonder if love even lives

Inside that heart of yours

Encased in faux gold

Crusted with cubic zirconia

I guess I sound bitter

It hurts to watch

You slay them all

One by one

No one sees you do it

No one understands it

Only me

And I am hiding in the shadows

Where you put me long ago.

Hour 15

Beautiful Thoughts

You are each beautiful thought
You make me distraught
You bring me serenity, complete my identity
Uproot my morality
I have waited too long
But time does me no wrong
You worth each moment of agony
A never-ending sea
Of beauty, of compassion; each uncontrolled passion
Each undefined impassion
You make my misery wrought
Ah! My beautiful thought!

(#10/12): “What’s Missing?”

On a hot day,

Somnambulant in my study,

My tutor put my skills on trial.

 

A vocabulary throwdown, if you will.

Go for it, this shy pupil was told.

What’s most common? No way!

 

“You can’t possibly know till you try, my boy.”

Probably not, I thought.

It’s just too hard to avoid using it!

 

It was straightforward.

A quick solution without complication.

Now, I know!

 

© 2015 Silvester Phua

 

Careful: Contents May Have Shifted

(a haibun) 
My mama always says there are no good moves. Something always gets lost. Something always gets broken. Some last minute much-needed kitchen item winds up in a box marked Bathroom. There isn’t enough packing tape in all the universe for all of Granny’s heirloom eggs, which are on their 11th move in 20 years. We survey the world around us and deem many things we were just using yesterday as unfit for cardboard travel; relegate them to garage sale piles and secondhand store fodder. We fold our losses and fill the boxes and ask ourselves, What’s worth keeping?

Pack up all you are.
Arrive on the other side
fragile, and less whole.
 

**hour 12 written off-site and posting late**

Poem15/24 “A CHANCE”

A second chance is hard to give

Specially when I knew you will cheat

But when you plead

And humbly sorry creed

I will give you a second chance

Rather than ignorance

I will give you a chance because I love you

Not only words you know

But the foundation we had

An unconditional love

That make us firm

That holds us tight

Those prayers we made

Along those tidal wave

We swam, we sunk

We fought, we love

Hope you won’t waste

A love, a chance

Hope you will change and develop

Hope you won’t regret when you come back

Be a man, and renew everything to make it right

Be a man, that you deserved a second chance light

Be a man that you deserved love

Like what we had promised “love, if we had a chance”