word wondering

For the matters of heart,
somethings spark like a firefly,
and although they bring pure joy,
the sight and feelings are almost always shortlived.

Painted

There was the floating yellow with the smile
under the sky blue, meadow green
soon the rivers of ivory glossed
over the  hugging sunset warm orange

the beauty of the grey
and the moon white
the black shadow of two,
hands held welcomed the golden dawn together.

the smell of the lavender
the skin brown, the lips pink.
Red the emotion, the passion
turned into bruises of purple

A whiplash violet cried of thunder
a lost thread of crimson, silence then followed.
Lost are you in those dark days, silver is those linings.
Ombre the new day follows such are the colors of life.

Paper

To those selling love in paper postcards with bow tie,
those papercuts run deep into the soul. One rides on the thought of the paper plane, crumbled on the hit of a storm. Those paper boats we made, in our thoughts, we sailed the world. Now there are shredded pieces,
much like us, with no coherent words. A paper asking for validation,
a paper demanded separation. A proof of life,
another of death.

Words apparently meant nothing unless on paper.
The papers were always greener on the other side,
the one you left, your goodbyes on a letter,
burn into ashes, all those memories, all your papers.

Three feet apart (Road-trip)

What do we get when you place
two people in closed space
a thousand-mile ahead
the radio on the break?

The tapping of the rain,
the gushing of the wind,
thousands of thoughts,
lets put in a few words.

Although we lived three feet apart,
the time and space had drifted us afar,
to catch up on where we headed
the road trip is what was needed.

The tale of years is told like the passing mile,
what was felt, held and dwelled on ticking dial.
The distance between us diminished,
a faint smile, the destination almost reached.

A thought out of place

Your presence lingers,
like the shadow beneath me,
the perfume in the air,
and the whims of the wind.

A twinkling star, light-years away,
space between us, night and day
a single thought out of place
In silence, an echo of a beating heartache,

Once in my hopes, dreams, and prayers,
now gone with the weather,
even with passing days on the calendar,
apparently, what is gone is not lost forever.

Baggage

I pack myself in two suitcases, not more than 23 kgs each,
wondering from country to country, city to city.
With each passing year, the weight seems heavier,
the roads however are still ceaseless and unclear.

But my eyes glisten to the new wonder of the world,
while I carry my past in those packages that I roll.
There are times when I stop mid-road to glance what lies within the carriers,
the warmth of the lingering hugs can still be felt through the travel blanket.

Like a thought out of place, the white in my hair shine,
like those silver blade, to what may lie ahead.
The intrigue is not dead, to take every day as an adventure
while to see the bigger picture, might need resting of those baggage.

Haven't found any closet that can fill what I bear.
May be one day when the wind brushes though all the silver whites,
I may choose to find a warm corner, a place to rest,
to open what has been withheld,
the wonders of every world seen through these blurred eyes.

Name

The dawn had whisked the batter,

hungry, my eyes looked for you.

A warm smile was on the platter,

served me right for the day was due.

Merry-go-round, 

a joy ride everyday.

things seemed to fade away

with you at my bay.

Tinker-tailor-soldier-spy,
to what does our heart pry.
Hardly are those fates braided,
In a blink of an eye, separated.

Myopic my vision,

echos now in the empty spaces.

Like a wash from the river, 

blurred, I see empty faces.

Many paths we did walk together,

now our destinations have changed.

Fly far away to the unknown,

but remember the name.

Futile Attempts

One more step, one more line,
one more attempt, one more push
And it was one more of everything.
Hanging in there,
it felt like a start-over

Here were my futile attempts,
to hold the wind in my hand,
to make the time stop,
to hold on to that slipping hand
to deny the inevitable

I have now lost my mind
oh what does not kill you just makes you stranger.
I wouldn't recognize me anymore.
Those eyes that shone bright once,
now echos emptiness, here are my blue words
to those lost rush, breathlessness, madness
now the silence has befallen.

Dripping are those warm blood,
burning are the chest and throat,
blank stares at the oblivion,
I hold hands to pull you up,
I slip further down with you,
just hang in there a moment longer,
futile they may be those attempts,
finding cure to this insatiable hunger

Her

Filling in the shoes, a size too big,

balancing the ways through life.

The comforter, the naive,

never have I had that charm.

To you, she is impeccable,

your heart, so forgiving.

Envious I am of what I see,

I am not her, never for you.

I am not her, never for me,

she is smart, she is mysterious,

I have no reservation to what I think.

Giving out too much, too soon,

Not just my thoughts,

but also my dreams and prayers.

I weave my world, a spider around you,

You, my dear were a butterfly, you flew away.

Never did I see how wrong I was not to see,

that she, a queen bee, and I, a venomous creature.

She, the woman of your dreams, your nightmares and your past, just Her everywhere.

For you, she seems perfect. For me, “I am just not her”.

Butterfly

Running in the fields to catch those butterflies,
mesmerized by the color, the flutter.
Patches on my blue flowy skirt,
hopped on to the meadows, I twirled.

Such a pretty girl,
here are the pink butterflies for you.
I wore the symbol, a pendant,
soon clutched in it, its hard to breathe when my butterfly flew away from my hands

Suffocating those thread, I broke the chains apart.
These pretty pink butterflies, I have caged you again.
I however have to go for now, a season of transformation calls
A new meadow beckons, empty they are for now,
Spring shall come soon, and I shall run wild, again like and with those butterflies.

Dear Empath

A Midas touch, you seep in the misery from others,
where are you to contain all that you have soaked?
Like the dam that has overflowed with compassion,
you tear up to the unfairness and unkindness.

Protecting others from the scorching sun,
never did you realize how much darkness you had garnered in your shadow.
Avid listener, you seem to seek white noise,
the thumping of heart and head of all you care for, deafens your senses.

You my dear deserve appreciation,
not all love like you do, neither care like you do.
Let go of your reservations and that fake smile,
cry your heart out, for others they ache.

You see the world with microscope, eyes wide open,
eyes closed, you dream of a perfect getaway with others.
Miracle worker, you soothe, you heal, you pray,
you dream, you are patient, you are kind.

Like the ripple in the lake,
your thoughts have wave of transition.
You my dear are a Firefly, let your light shine,
shine-on, for you deserve all you desire in your life.

Daisy

You are my flower, blooming and blossoming are your smiles.

Slim are your hands like the stems, the way you moved reminds me of delicate bud on wind.

The twirl you did when we danced, white sun dress, put the flower to shame.

You bring fragrance to the air I breathe, and with every breath, I dive deeper in your love.

The first time I saw you with those flower crowns, your eyes shined like the dew drops.

Hearts and flowers, I was with the first flower I bought for you.

No Roses for you because you are my daisy,

your frizzy hair are to blame for it, hooked I have been to them.

The first time we held hands, you had these white bouquet clenched to your heart.

Today you walk towards me with both hands holding these white flowers,

with those eyes, that smile, in a white dress,

melting my heart from afar to hold my hands forever and be mine.

The one with an annual female friend

Since valentine's day is around the corner, it reminded me that it is time for me to contact all my eligible male friends. In the sense, they are just my friends but seem to be very popular among ladies. To clear my point, they are not playboys, they just happen to have done engineering in Thailand where only one-third of the population are boys. Now, what I mean by contacting is, if they were to receive dark chocolates on the occasion, they are mine by the treaty of brotherhood.

While I have always felt like DUFF of the group, one thing that almost always happened each passing year of engineering was a new female friend right around the corner of valentine's day. From taking a peak interest in me, my research and eventually my friends. The moment I told them that my guy friend was in a relationship they quit being friends with me. 

So, this is a three part story, the first is a long lost friend who contacted me though social media and inquired whereabouts about a dear guy friend. While they did end up being friends, the word, "I like you" by her was enough for my friend to be enraged and eventual deactivation of social media. Well needless to say she unfriended me.

The second, we shall call it the one where I could not see it. In a gathering full of girls, when I invited my guy friends, all my female friends were doting on these men. When the party was over, I walked with one of them, stopped him in the middle of the road, checked him out because we had been friends for five years and I still could not see what was so enchanting about him. I do adore him from the bottom of my heart, but I do fail to see the charm.

The third was with the invitation for group dinner, from just acknowledging my presence for 3 months, the things changed within a weekend when a dear female friend of mine had lunch with this particular guy friend. And it ended with regards and almost hugs, which I am not used to.

While there may have been a perception that I may put out a good word, I cannot. I have no power over my dear guy friends. So this is a commemoration letter to all the possible friendship I lost because I had likable guy friends but I still happen to be waiting for all the dark chocolates. 

Reflection

Through the eyes of my father,
I am nothing but a reflection.
I take your name, fit in your shoes,
run in it to find myself.

To the chalk marks on the board, the lines that defined me,
you taught me the right, the wrong and the patience.
Wise your words, the chalk on my hand,
I sketch the future.

Identifying the women in me, I see what you feel, what you fear.
I agree, I disagree, I have an understanding of myself.
I need no liberation, no empowerment,
here, I may loose anything but my pride.

To the choices I make, to the people I forgive,
to the places I go and the places I walk away from,
shifting are my perceptions, but not of myself.
Firm yet delicate, frivolous yet sensible, moments of happiness
slack-line it has been, the existence.

To every path I may take, some sharp turns they may be,
the lines I may cross, the lines I may draw,
the love I may get and the ones I may loose,
nothing but the consequences shall remain,
the reflections of me, a tomb stone in the end.

House

We built a house together to live in,
foundation till the bright red chimney.
Every brick we lay were from our love,
the paint to resemble the color of trust.

A study for you, a library for me,
a fireplace where we met to talk about stars.
Two strings played in the back,
while I curled to the warmth,
we were happy as we could be.

Then came the lies and secrets,
we walked through it,
if we have trust we have everything, we said.
To walk one day and find the disrespect,
I walked out from the house to find me.

But lost are me in those rooms that do not see light,
I come back every once in a while to collect me from it.
But to see that you are gone, not any of your stuffs there
makes me question if it ever was something we built together.

So I wonder and think if the house is worth saving,
may be its time to abandon it,
although each brick we lay brings memories,
am I to steal these brick to build a house of my own,
or to leave it there where it lies, as if it has no value.

The new place is empty, stone walls at bay
No fire place because it burns my soul
A room with a window to glace the hopes of rising sun.
At the horizon, I see the unacknowledged house I once called home.

In pursuit of happiness

Was it the first chicken curry
or the bite and an eventual dig into rasbari
my first moments of happiness, were these treats
to eyes, mouth and heart

The sound of rain, the eventual dancing drain
Kishor Kumar in radio, hot tea the duo
the aroma it brought to the air, the sound the smell
to ear, nose, skin and soul, were my growing up happy moments

The first hike, the first flight,
the wind in the air, invisible wings, the sudden lift,
the passion and love for travel and independence
happy moments were those of discovery of self

An education, internship, working with machines,
a consistence, hunger for knowledge,
coffee in the side table, a sigh of relief
creating models, creating happiness I was in nutshells

the first holding of hands, the whistling of the winds
the strums of guitars, sundress in the park
smiling shy because I felt beautiful
apparently I gave my happiness to somebody else

Now that I have me, my loneliness and my pursuit of happiness
to say I can't go on without you is a lie, not at all in my shyness
I go back to the chicken curry, the songs, the downpour,
the yellow sundress, the passion of work and to childhood

Never did i realize before that little thing were the ones that brought me happiness
The smile of the loved one, an experiment in the kitchen
hot chocolate in cold day, the smell of festival
the blossoming of new friendship and the euphoria of old ones
grateful for the universe I have, forever and beyond

Significance

As I pass from one breath to another
I wonder what the future holds
In these brief moment its me and my thoughts

Cessation is all I need,
To cease to think, to cease to breathe for once
To feel alive, to be with me

Disagreement, conflict and anger
It seeps in me, torn between head and heart
In past, present and future

Like the reflection in the still water,
I am nothing but shadow of my becoming
As I disturb the surface of it, I wonder if I can scramble my thoughts

Agitated, rippled, drowned, held by the breath
I wonder if I can ever flow to, to my destiny, the sea of knowledge
To be deadened to the howling of the wind and the cold

Underneath I stay, to relinquish my wanderlust
Although there is all that, I am fine though
I just happen to have been lost in me

Lost in my inhibition, lost are those feelings that I hid somewhere
nowhere to be found, numb although I am, I am fine though.
For conflict is also a step to discovery

I lay there and say,
if you want to build confidence, start winning
if you want to build character, start loosing

I think I am prepared to loose and learn
to step out of the re-inventive womb of comfort
to be significant, chasing to find who I am