Letting out the whispers of my heart in experimental poetry
Beneath the still, luminous firmament,
A lonesome bird hovers in majesty;
Like plumy clouds, it sails swiftly,
Alone to relish a golden moment.
In grassy field whose bosom lies
A single tree of ample foliage;
Reigns in silence, solitude’s image;
The soft music from leaves does rise.
When I’m alone in quietness,
I gaze at things with pensive eyes;
And suddenly, my fancy flies,
My notions brawl in bounteousness.
Things oft times may seem forlorn,
But in solitude, ideas are born.
A furious wind has just passed,
Leaving behind a deathly space,
Where lush banana trees once stood
With leaves that flutter in the breeze.
And now what remains but shreds
That no longer flap like wings;
But when strong winds brush through them,
What a music they would make!
So is a life that seems broken
By some outrage of circumstance;
But when tended or nurtured aright,
A sweet music will surely rise.
Life then, my friend, is a poetry
If not forsaken or led astray.
Face to face with the truth,
I hear the sounds in my heart,
like the breaking of a glass into tiny slivers,
the silent falling of snowflakes touching the earth,
their beauty being melted,
hardening into ice,
scorching in its coldness.
I can feel a phantom of torrents from my eyes,
rivers of bitter red-blood tears
streaking down my cheeks.
Yet my eyes and cheeks are dry.
I can see blackness enwrapping my heart,
sealing it to block the light
from streaming in.
I can hear eerie sounds within,
silent murmurs stabbing my heart all over.
I’m standing in a world
painted black and gray,
the only colors now that my eyes can see.
The only star that used
to shine for me is gone,
its brilliant twinkling finally stopped.
My one and only star
who breathed life to my being,
painted rainbows above me.
He’s gone, a dead star,
taking my heart with him to the grave.
Lying on the rear seat of the van,
all alone in my solitary thoughts,
I gaze at the full moon through the rear window,
spinning fantastic moments with my Aldebaran.
In a trance, I see him and me,
entwined in each other’s arms.
Standing under the star-filled sky.
Translucent deep blue.
Listening to each other’s heart whisper of eternal love.
The moon and a lone star in close proximity.
Clouds rush to hide them from my sight.
My eyes droop. I drowse. A haze. A jolt.
I open my eyes. A familiar circle of light reappears,
with the same couple of celestial bodies.
There we are again. At sunset.
Sauntering along the beach. Hand in hand.
Waters washing our feet. Sea breeze brushing our faces.
He puts his hand on my cheek, gently caressing it. A kiss.
The white patch in the sky turns gray. Darker. Now black.
Clouds take over. The moon and the star are masked again.
My eyes are heavy. Somnus is playing with me.
I close my eyes. Another jolt.
An explosion of light greets my sky-bound eyes.
The moon and the sky become brighter. Inseparable still.
It’s autumn. We are lying next to each other on a bed of fallen leaves,
gazing up at the blue sky laced with the almost bare branches of maple trees.
Listening to the wind conversing with the leaves. Leaves rustling. Falling.
Rolling. Racing with one another. Our hands touch. Fingers cross.
Blackness. Wheels rolling. Seat hammering. I close my eyes.
Elusive sleep. My eyes are heavy with pain. I roll on my side.
My seat-bed keeps pounding. I roll back to face the sky again.
Thin clouds race swiftly across the moon’s face.
The moon peers intermittently through the clouds.
The white halo brightens as the clouds are clearing away.
In the woods. His arm over my shoulder. Strolling. Stopping.
Admiring the intricacies of evergreen trees.
Talking endlessly of the wonders of creation, of the beauty of being alive
and the magical feeling of being loved. Affinity with nature.
Sweet embrace. Our hearts beat in harmonious rhythm.
One deep, glorious love. Pure and eternal. Wonder of creation.
The car winds through the meandering road. Mountain peaks replace
the celestial panorama. The moon and the star are gone. The night is deep.
The wind chilly. Fogs gather. A half-sleep. The car stops.
Journey over. Reality.
It’s a month when poetry
runs through my veins,
when all the beauty invisible to others
unfolds in my eyes,
when the sweet breeze
disperses away all the ghosts around me.
It’s gone now, its magic, its charm.
The silent musical rustling of leaves
that the mountain zephyr orchestrates
became a howling mockery
of specters closing in on me,
The sweet-smelling air
thickened into acrid gel,
choking me, halting my heartbeat.
Beauty disappeared, colors faded.
The music stopped.
The lovely poetry metamorphosed
into poetry of death.
The dirge of a broken heart.
In my anguish, I cried out to Him;
A measure of strength and comfort
Was all that my soul yearned;
A ray of hope gone, spirit weakened,
I longed for the sun to hide,
Never to appear to me again.
But as I turned my listless eyes
Toward the window that screened me
From the world that became sullen
In the eye of my mind,
I peered at the blades of grass
Stooping down the stonewall,
Heralding the wonders outside:
A balmy breeze and a sunny sky,
And a million other miracles
That beckoned me to cheer up,
For a better life was there
Only waiting to be found.
In a magic instant, my spirit soared;
I knew I was alive again
For God renewed my strength;
And I knew He will always keep me
In the shadow of his wings.
Two Aliens Juxtaposed
You and I, self-proclaimed aliens.
Lost in this world so hostile to us.
(What on earth are we doing here anyway?)
Yet we are here, each of us
in our own similar unchartered world.
Doing earthling stuffs, feeling earthling feelings.
Trying to survive, though our spirits are weakening,
dying, our own bodies rotting.
Our hearts scream, our minds falter.
Pain and bitterness creep through our fibers,
stream with our blood.
What’s going on?
Our alien minds are incapable of deciphering
this mystical human body language.
It’s all internal chaos and void
alternating within us.
Our friends see us –
Smiles on our faces, hearty laughs.
We’re free spirits, always on the go.
Lots of fun, full of sunshine.
What a veneer!
Darkness lurks within.
We yearn for something we can never have.
Yours and mine may not be the same.
But it’s something that they say is free.
Something that everybody seems to have.
Only to us it is denied.
What is it? We search our souls.
Uncertain what it really is.
It’s true realization may be painful.
We’re left in confusion. Shadows surround us.
Minds and bodies paralyzed.
Hearts tired, asphyxiated.
With tears streaming down our cheeks,
we lift our heads up, imploring heaven
to feed our starving hearts.
Hearts of aliens
that aversely turned to human hearts.
The Gift of the Swagman
A solitary swagman
sets out on his solitary wanderings;
Hanging on his shoulder
is a humble swag,
well-stuffed and heavy-looking.
One place after another he goes,
all arms open for him,
Down he puts his load,
hand digging in, scooping.
He holds it out,
glitters seeping through closed fingers.
Brilliant, colorful gems
sparkle in the light.
Arm extending, hand reaching out,
pouring precious gems into
the palms of those he met.
When evening comes,
he takes his rest
to meet another day’s journey
to another place
with unknown faces.
He leaves behind
the lives he touched,
and a monument
that will forever stand
in the middle of each one’s heart.