24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Mater lies before me.
Her earthly torments ceased.
No more half-breaths to take,
Eyes closed, in peace at last.
And yet, my tears do not run,
No wellsprings of regret.
Or mourning I perceive,
This curious absence of grief.
I never listened.
I never understood.
I never empathised.
I was never a good son.
You may think me cold.
Unfeeling, ungrateful,
The heart of a beast.
Yet Mother, I mourn thee.
© 2015 Silvester Phua
hate is such a powerful feeling
I can barely put it into words
to confess would be a crime
I realize that much
but the anger I feel towards you
is about to flood from the dam
give me a kiss
and I’ll give you one back
if I said I loved you
that would be a stretch
what is this that’s happening
you’re messing with the wrong girl
and I hate to say it
but I’m loving every minute
thank you for the time we spent
struggling to figure out what we were doing
Two roads diverged
And one submerged
Below the route that all maps urged,
Where most would naturally go –
The overground pathway
Trampled underfoot toe by toe
By those who would not stray
And make their own way,
But down below
I chose to go
Where demon sprites
And hell-fire bright
Warned off the bravest souls.
I was sure I wouldn’t return
I was sure the way back would burn,
But what do you suppose I learned?
Oh, you’ll never know,
Along this path you’ll never go,
But believe me when I tell you this –
There are things you should not miss
Down there in that abyss.
(c) Gemma Hinton 2015
Spectacles sparkling eyes … round and bright
Warm and contiguous smile … spreading sweet lullaby
Big Embrace … loving arms
Kind heart … pure and giving.
Not a hero … but always to his love ones
A father … a friend that extend
Not the most vocal … but sensitive and affecting
A lover … still trying and perfecting.
A funny soul … a sunshine of joy
Unconventional man … but never an option
Polite but not weak … kind but strong
He is my Mickey … my spider man in the making.
Broad is the road that leads to destruction
Majority travel along its path
It’s filled with those who believe such phrases like, ‘Whatever makes you happy’
Just because you feel it’s right doesn’t mean that it is
The world is full of ‘good people’
Whose lives end in tragedy
Thinking there’s no hereafter
No God, only the foolish believe
There is another path
Narrow and trim
Only those who hear and know the truth
Journey this faith driven bend
They follow after the Word of the Gospel
Receive adoption as children of the King
The 1st way can seem easier
But the 2nd is Heavenly security
I Used To Know a Guy Named Steve
Steve was a black man of thirty-five. He was greasy and had dandruff. He dressed very badly in black denim and cheap stretchy pullover shirts with three buttons center, top. He wore too much Drakkar Noir in an attempt to cover up the smell of sweat that clung to him always in the south Texas heat. He’d had a bad acne problem in high school. The scars were quite deep. His thick glasses were always smudged with fingerprints because he was always pulling and pushing on them. It was a nervous habit. And when he talked about his life in the music industry and how he’d just come from rehearsal, it was all a lie. He was really quite convincing with his musical knowledge, but someone had seen him slinging burgers at Maggie’s Restaurant on Blanco. Can’t say I was that surprised. I never brought it up. Steve had enough strikes against him for one guy. I decided to let him live his dream with me since no one else was buying it.
If the world was a whisky bottle
I would swallow it whole.
Like a drunkard drains the bar,
The bartenders stores
and always finds it empty.
At the bar,
The only thing I ever found
at the bottom of the glass
was me a little drunker,
The only problems I was able to escape
were problems I didn’t help create.
We’re all empty
At the bottom of the glass,
And at the bar
The bartender stores
The little last peace of a heart.
The last bit of pride
Of some young tart
The brains of a lost art.
The foolish ramblings
Of a fool from the start.
making decision
always two options
making pros and cons
weighing the equal footing
ambivalence in making decision
marking into new environment
decision making at its best
clinching the tide
likening for two roads in making choices
clearly a new decision
determining for what is truly best for both
a choice hallmarking a processing of discernment
She said they found you blue
on the floor of your room
with a needle still dangling from your arm
they tried to breathe life back into you
you did not respond
and now your once beautiful body
was turned into ash
you are resting peacefully, on your mothers shelf
in the living room
where we used to laugh
I wonder if you can still our laughter
echoing off the walls
tucked inside of your tomb
