Sentiments · Writing True

Coz in Your Eyes








To just touch your face,

I so dream.



To be in your arms,

I so ache.



To hold your hand,

I so hope.



To wake up being in your chest still,

I so pray.



To live for what we have,

I so cherish.



Coz in your eyes

I so see forever;



And forever,

Love

will so see us through.








YouTube/The First Time I loved Forever/PianoMusicLover

YouTube/The First Time I Loved Forever/Lisa Angelle

Writing True

A Wistful In Conflict

(Updated 01/03/2020)








Surrendering to nostalgia,

I’m deaf to the ticks of clock.

I hear nothing

but throbbing,

and the murmurs of our dream. . .






. . . enduring an invincible wish:

Your breath

soft-talking to my skin;

Mine chasing yours to live.

Let me call TheCab for reality.






. . . for who did love,

and didn’t lose it

at some point?

Sanity in apathy—

it is not strange at all.






Battling an invisible war

is always one’s call.

Dire! I died over

and over

taking the call.






Should have

hang up?

Mistake?

Bigger than popsie in orange–

oh, that I know!






Yet still,

the hopeful romantic still

thinking in vain,

hoping and loving

just the same.








YouTube/invisible War/Sitti Navarro

Writing True

A New Year’s Haiku

Tie your shoe lace tight;

Take double shots espresso–

And live your best life.

Writing True

Happy 2020!

YouTube/Happy New Year 2020/Andrea Petcu









From my blog to yours,



May the New Year

bring you joy,

bring you peace,

bring you love,

lots of follows,

lots of warm comments and likes–

and lots of meaningful posts.

Happy New Year, WordPress!

Happy New Year, all!



Thank you, 2019!









YouTube/Vevo/Auld Lang Syne/Mariah Carey

Writing True

Little Precious, Sleepy Head










Three Kings from East went ahead

that very solemn night

Mary fulfilled her test.

Stars were snitchers

at best.





As the Three Wise carried gifts

of myrrhs and golds;

Little precious sleepy head

carried peace and love

to impoverished world.





How lucky were the sheep

in the manger staring in awe

of that Face I long to touch–

Little precious sleepy head,

I hope You know.








Writing True

A Wake-up Call








As the Sun peeps below the aurora,

morning coffee is being brewed

over coal by manufacturah.

Trees sigh

what’s the matta?

Earth has fever

and they are still snoring

in pajamas.


Even before dawn

algae have abandoned the corals,

dying they too ask,

“What’s the matta?”

Deep in rem,

still no ansa.


Ahead of the rooster’s crowing,

Floods are right by the doorsteps-

not knocking–

banging!


Polar bears without the glaciers, the ices,

keep wandering wondering–

saying “endless summer

is not a good thing.”


Salmons may not be there

for them, and them

for ages–

sniff sniffing:

CO who?

Is such a,

such a

bad thing.


Earth’s fever is not going

down nor leaving–

and men are still buried

in blankets,

still sleeping

while the house is burning.

Writing True

Sense of Gratitude








Always give

Heaven

thumbs up

for the big ones.


Dare put the little

on a Petri dish

to see;

they’re just

as

grand.


Write a list

and slid it to

the red Chino thing

of those yet to come.


When hope is down,

check the pulse

to realize

and appreciate

what’s in hand-—


Because sense of gratitude

begins

with fill in the blanks.








Writing True

Not By Choice

Hotel Street, Honolulu, Hawaii—November 15, 2019

The sky is the roof over their heads.

Their beds are right by the doorsteps.

Their walls fall in a matter of stomp or step.

They’re into intermittent fasting–

On a diet–

Not by choice.

“No one cares–“

So they thought.