Poem 101
(composed march 2011)
I thank life for having crossed your way;
Though the road's been difficult, we keep up;
Despite lies and pretentions, we keep up;
Despite envy and neglect, we keep up;
Though we never care, we still do;
believe in each other and never brags mistakes;
Hold up grudges behind and moved forward;
forget fights and denials
and appreciate a fresh new start.
Cause we'll never know when the day ends.
Life's too short,
but you made it a little longer and meaningful for me.
A day is a lifetime with you.
And that's when its harder to leave. . .
Grateful that I am
What if my hands no longer work for me?
And my feet no longer walks for me?
What if my eyes are dead in sleep?
And my mouth mute and no longer speak?
What if our skin is pale and numb?
And our bones dark and feebled?
What if our spirit is cold and indifferent,
impurturbable but unfelt?
What beauty is there to life
If everything do not work for man. . .
The Pot
(shortest poem i made)
A clay of hope, made from dusts;
Dugged and soiled in the spring;
The water took its form and molded life;
Shape, shape - and I was made.
The Waking Hours
The cupboard of living,
my soul folded in its chest,
Set aside as dowry for the mask death chaser.
I am 999,999 times old,
and my ugly days are numbered.
I only have one more year to exist,
or 8,760 waking hours.
If I continue to live for more than once,
My skin shall decay as in quantum furnace,
and there'll be nothing left in my brows,
but another brush of charcoal.
And so for then, it has been decided,
Quit brooding over useless whining,
time goes and passes anyway,
Its time to take my part,
perhaps yours is someday.
