An Anthology of Poems

Meditation

Memories of what's done

comes sporadic and own its own

I cringe at things with no form.

while I say, ‘it is all in past’

I have dragged them here

like a burden
I’ve carried it with me.

Things could've been done better

I speculate so otherwise.

How vain and frugal am I

layers of life that I have lived

I let them go
I let them flow.

There are things piled up for tomorrow

Suddenly a new thought rush onto the head

I say I will remember

to write it down before I forget.

A voice then tells me

Leave tomorrow for tomorrow.

Thoughts rush on to the head

like non-stop beating of my heart

while I breath in and out.

Despite the turmoil in my head

how peaceful can this feeling get

just to be in now

to feel the air, flow in and out

I feel a greater acknowledgement

to simple thing that’s called 'a life'.

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Tree

There are trees
next to where i live
growing and thriving
as each season pass
long before you and I

In summer
Green and sheen

Draping the world that’s under

Giving color to the gloom

the love it pours through the atmosphere

is alive within me

as I'm within it.

In autumn
the leaves fades away

into yellow and more

thus it surrender

why can’t I follow suit

to shed and to let go

of things that I hold on to.

In winter
dark and asleep

lost of its splendor

yet majestic and might

across the blue I see through the sky.

waiting, rejuvenating

a new life within

while we are blind to what we do not see

it'll become anew

in the spring that'll follow soon.

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Round and round
make another circle
catch the tail
catch its end.

Take an embrace
it'll be alright
wish me there
so I can make a run.

Stop me a while
fool me blind
make me fall
I’ll take this road.

Hear this sound
feel this beat
not of this world
an unheard fiction.

Bottled and canned
rush onto the head
make an escape
make me high.

It’s just a phase
dying slow death
in a clear light
we'll celebrate.

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Mother

Sheltered under your warm sun
Shaded from the harms done
My world is better
because I have you.

Your warmth
is a constant comfort
When I know I have you
A smile sits on my face.

Just a thought
Brings a glee inside
You are the summer sun
You are the winter warmth.

If I hold you in
All my worries are undone
If caged in darkness
Your thought light my way.

You are a super human
Comfort to my being
My world is brighter
Because I have you, mother.

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Being a mother

Being a mother is weary
There are times when I get lost in me and mine
But when I do wake up
I find my children turned into monkeys
Long nails, long hairs, unwashed and unraveled
I do wake up and tell myself,
Let’s stay awake till they grow up.

Being a mother is to know your own short-coming
you watch your children turning into you
a reflection of your imperfection
how can they become more than what you are
you will never have an answer
and there is never a clue or a tool.

Being a mother is to preach non-stop
Seems like I have million good advises
Do I even follow them?
There are so many values to teach
Which ones are more important?
Seems like all?
Do they even understand?
The importance of love and kindness,
or having a dream.

Being a mother is to know everything
why the shadow is black?
why the sky is blue?
why it rains?
why is it always me?
you are never fair
what do I get? and so on...

Being a mother is to be in constant fright
of what your child is becoming
and what they are to become
Will they be happy?
Will they drift away?
Will they still hold this laughter?
will their eyes always shine as bright as their heart?

Being a mother is to be a scary monster
a nightmare that will haunt them and taunt them
now and even when they grow up
to shout, yell and say ‘no’
You know you are doing a bad job,
when you see those frightened faces
How do I ever make amend?

Being a mother is to be a fuzzy bear
to hold your children dear to your heart
the warm hugs, and the kisses in mid of tears
to say, ‘now there, there'
to hold them in when it rains.

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lying reflection

I’m not what I see in front of me

A reflection that has gnarled before me

I count 21 freckles on my face

And my hair, it's a bad dream.

I’ve always been full figured

but I never liked what I saw

i say hello to another wrinkle

i see them more that a friend.

my eyes are blinded and weary

a chemical reaction, a non-stop metamorphism

I see what I am no more

So I shut my eyes and pretend blind.

i remember...

Staring straight into the sun

watching the rain drip from the roof.

Playing rubber band between two polls and

having the best time of my life.

Eating gum worth ten and

not being able to move my jaws,

blood oozing though and through

pretending while my parents screamed.

Being nearly bitten by a dozen dogs

Being amazed at the handkerchief rat

Being clueless in grammar class

and watching jelly fishes float by.

but these are fragments of dream

lock and trapped inside my head

confused and deceived I am

to the reflection I see before me.

from my anthology collection

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traveling train

It certainly is an experience
traveling a thousand miles journey
in a sleeper class train.

the wait for the train that never comes
till you get weary to look at your wrist.
your wait is done and the train finally comes.

keep an eye on your belongings
for you shall be sorry if you don't
for pickpockets wouldn't miss an opening.

the crowd that pours in like waves to the sea
the colors and the multitude at the platform
rush in hush, some in scurry, others in haze.

It certainly is an experience
traveling from north to south
in a train full of people.

there is no such thing as hunger
the vendor comes non stop
shouting tea, coffee, snacks and meals

the people you meet, you shall remember
if you listen, you will hear wondrous stories
some of broken heart, others of a venture

if you open your heart, it shall be filled
with the sights moving around you
the sound of train that rolls through the night

it is like traveling in a moving house
there's a party and everyone is invited
on a thousand miles journey.

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