I chance upon a glance on my calendar,

And I realized – today you turned one.

I had to stop and put my thoughts together,

And wonder when and where time has gone.

In all honesty I am surprised – that’s an understatement.

For a year ago I was more doubtful than I intended.

Questioning every bit of myself, every brain compartment,

Like all the questioning was at all needed.

Yet here you are, here we are –

We’ve crossed a year together.

Give and take, comfort and comforted,

You’ve given me an escape, a home and more.

You’ve given me friendship all over the planet,

Some remaining faceless while others not so.

Some almost there occasionally – every now and then,

While some almost with me from dusk til dawn – electronically.

And today as I celebrate you turning one,

With a hope that we’ll have a year more,

I’d like to thank you and your visitors,

For dealing with the randomness – a mix of anything and everything.



The Pen

For whomever the pen writes is a mystery,

An enigma I so wanted to unravel;

Yet in the process I discovered – is knowing that important,

Or is it more than sufficient that it writes?

How the pen writes is another fascinating thing

That I can’t seem to shake off my head;

Sometimes gibberish – ambiguous; yet more often surprisingly profound,

Showing depths of unexplored possibilities, or is it?

What the pen writes is another curious thing,

Cause it gives off variety of reactions –

Good, bad; happy, sad – melancholic,

It is certain – the pen can drive you mad!

The reality though that sometimes gets unnoticed,

Is that the pen writes mostly for who holds it,

It writes the way the holder directs it to,

It expresses what the holder feels – wishes and hopes for.

Thus the next time you hold a pen, give it a good think –

The message I want to go across, what really is it?

Do I spread hatred or otherwise give the world a bit of love,

Or just let myself be the pen, move freely with every dots and curve?

The Awakening

At first there was but sorrow,

Questions about tomorrow.

Never to come, not likely –

Falling to uncertainty.

Second came the acceptance –

“All is going to be well.”

Fate, most likely is a chance,

To hear those melodious bell.

Yet longing is a problem,

As is with expectation.

Unquenchable it may seem,

Difficult situation.

Thus comes imagination,

Yearning continuation.

Soaring high, delving in depths,

Mostly unexplored yet felt.

Awakened; here – a brain child,

My story yet not really.

Just my thoughts going all wild –

Picturing what should have been.

If I Knew

If I knew that one day we would part,

I would’ve done everything in my power to block that.

I would’ve gone the distance to stop that day from coming,

I would’ve given everything; if only I knew.

If I knew that we’ll be saying goodbye,

If I knew that the end applies to us,

I would’ve given you more time and attention,

So as to let you know, you’re all I ever wanted.

You’re all that I’ll ever need and more,

Your sweet and gentle presence by my side,

Your reassuring silence, your trusting glance,

That keeps me grounded and makes me feel loved.

And then again if I knew, would I even bother,

Would I ever bother to even start?

Most likely not, how would I know though,

The privilege was never mine.

Yet, at this point in time all I could think of,

If I knew, I wouldn’t have let you walk out that door,

I would’ve just held your hand and whisper to your ear,

“Let me go too, to wherever you are, wherever you’ll be.”

A Flash of Inspiration

Inspiration comes to me in a flash,

Thus mostly, I grab a pen in a rush.

For fear of losing what seems to be rare,

A sort of precious gem beyond compare.

Carefully though, precise by the letter,

For the measures must come all together;

Even it’s not complicated numbers,

Even if it’s just words all scattered.

At times though, since I’m me I disregard,

Measures, “smeasure” I mix and bend backwards.

Otherwise I just set things free – let go;

Allowing all ideas build and flow.

For I see nothing wrong with free verses,

Or to thorns attached to pretty roses.

All there is – that flash of inspiration –

That pen rushing to its transformation.

By Knowing Pain

There was once a boy captivated by a girl,

He watched him constantly from afar.

Peculiar yet completely understandable –

For the girl is such a wonder to behold.

And he wonders, continuously –

How does someone stays cheerful,

After a long day of endless labor,

After being mistreated and called names?

How does she manages to smile genuinely,

The kind that reaches her eyes like it’s nothing,

Like she’s not having a hard time,

Like she’s not living a difficult life?

He couldn’t and could never do it,

Not even for all the tea in Han,

Not for all the coffee in Jawi,

Not for anything remotely important.

But, who is to blame a person who suffers?

Who is to say “all shall be well?”

Who is to console someone well aware,

Of his numbered, passing, precious time?

Yet, as he watches her from afar he’s changing,

Like the seasons that comes and goes.

He’s coming to realize their differences,

Coming to understand what he’s missing.

Suffering as with pain demands attention,

It demands to be known and understood,

It demands time to be embraced and felt,

Yet that’s not all to it, it’s a whole lot more.

By knowing pain one begins to appreciate,

By knowing pain one begins to be thankful,

By knowing pain one becomes stronger,

By knowing pain, happiness becomes sweeter.

Thus the boy who know his numbered days,

Before the numbers completely dwindled by,

Found peace and sweet happiness,

By accepting and knowing pain.

Not Likely Bothered

Seventy six days and counting.

It won’t be long and just maybe,

I won’t bother to count no more,

Like you never bothered to look back

Or explain; why you said goodbye.

Though sometimes, I wonder

Was it because I make your coffee

Way too sweet for your liking?

Or was it because the rice is…

Either overcooked or raw?

Or because of those eggshell bits

On your over toasted egg and toast?

It is because of the shirt accident,

When I turned your white shirt pink?

Probably not, am I right?

You did say it was alright.

Was it because I drink too much?

At least more than you can handle.

That’s probably it, right?

Cause you did say you hated it,

And I never listened; that’s not new.

I wish you bothered to explain,

Not that it bothers me that is.

Not that I care at this point,

Well, not like I’ll let you know.

If It’s Not You

It has been forever,

It feels like it too.

It has been forever

Since I let you go;

Or so you thought.

And while you might think that,

There was never a day

That I never thought of you.

Hasn’t been a minute

That I didn’t miss your smile,

And your eternal clumsiness.

The minute I open my eyes,

I count, remember the number of days

Since I let you walk out of my life.

Though that didn’t destroy me,

It left a hole never to be filled.

Not unless it’s you, only you.

And I have been waiting,

What other choice do I have?

When I’ve been bewitched, blinded;

And the fact that I know if it’s not you

It’s not gonna be enough.

Sweet Words of Uncertainty

She was her parent’s pride and joy,

Their own drop of sunshine

Their summer morning mist,

From the day she was born.

She is a princess they’ve waited for so long,

Just because they wanted a good life for her;

A life where she could do whatever she wants,

Be whoever she wants and more.

Indeed there’s a lot that she wanted,

Like travelling all over the world,

Be a supreme ballerina, a dancer,

A teacher, a pilot, a writer.

She thought of being an engineer,

For the love of the environment.

It would have been wonderful,

Spectacular, should it happen.

That’s all uncertain now,

For the past few days,

Since she sent this message:

“Mom, Dad, I love you.”

Sweet words, should have been reassuring,

Sweet words with the opposite effects.

Sweet words should have been relieving,

Not confirming the uncertainty.

Until Then – An Ode to 윤시윤

It’s like a door shuts on my face,

Like being doused with cold water.

I literally paused to collect myself,

But all I could think of is –

“Why the lack of farewell?”

True it’s a great show of consideration,

You mentioned “every man has to go”

But still this nagging won’t falter,

Nor the sadness that steadily swells –

“Why, oh why did you quietly go?”

That’s two years away from the lime light,

Two years without seeing you in an act,

Two years of following a mandatory fact,

Two years. Two. Long. Years.

That I hope to pass by in a flash.

I supposed “re-watches” could fill the void,

Even those ones that I was all annoyed.

Of course let’s not forget those I’ve enjoyed,

Watching you as a baker, a designer – flower boy;

That was all worth “squeeing” for.

Of course there’s those few songs you sang,

A few, oh so rare music videos,

And not to mention fan made ones;

I’ll get to hear you, I’ll get to see you,

Though a repeat, not a new one.

Mooning over photos’ another option,

Drowning in all the cuteness,

Squealing with all the hotness,

Easily interchangeable and pulled off

Depending on you holding some food and not.

Right, I’m finally sober, I kinda saw a light,

Well a vision of an all manned up you that is.

A glimpse of something that’s yet to come,

Until then I’ll pray for your good health,

Until then, until you come back – I’ll be waiting.