[Day 27] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 27

Troubling Thoughts

Every book
tells me that
the more intelligent you are,
the more troubles you'll get.

I incline to not agree.
Smart people,
especially the intelligent of them all,
should have less troubles troubling them.

They have seen more, known more, learned more, and thought more
than any of us combined.
They are able to decompose the troublest trouble,
so why would they have more trouble?

The least intelligent people would not have trouble,
or not as many as others,
since their mind have no room
for any troubling thoughts.

It is the people in between
that suffer the most.
They are capable of identifying troubles,
yet they are no near at a place that gives them power to tackle them.

Sigh.
This will be a problem that will live with the eternity,
as long as the human race still stands tall,
troubles will come after us all.

[Day 26] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 26

Challenging The Bottom Line

Politeness can
open a lot of doors,

no?
But your impertinence has surely closed
quite
a thousand.

I not know your past,
neither do you,
but neither will you.
I thought having proper manners
is proper.

You say what you want,
you peel slices
off the fruit of friendship
when it is not even
ripe.

The day comes
when I choose to be silent,
do not question about me.
Do it onto yourself.

[Day 25] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 25

Mind Reader

I am not a mind reader, my friend.
If I were (which I am not),
I would have made a thousand friends
on Facebook.

I should make it clear
that implication is not my forte.
If I am that good at picking up traces of implication,
I should be a modern day Sherlock Holmes.

I do not pick up signals,
like a robot.
Please suit yourself with a
radar or radio.

I do not do hints.
What I do do is direct communication.

I prefer clarity.
I prefer sincerity.

I implore in advance:
Please do not expect much,
for you will end up losing all that you hope for.

It might be me,
it could be you.
It is both of us.

We are two,
and never one,
so keep that in mind.

What makes us think so differently?
The role that we are playing in the society?

I am not seeking answers.
Not from someone
who would most likely ignore them
in the first place.

[Day 24] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 24

Misunderstanding

Misunderstanding can lead to a disaster.
One disaster is enough for the mind,
I dare not think that I am
able to handle more than one.

It happens with the lack of clarification.
No one would know it.
At least we should try to make
ourselves very clear,
clear to the bones.

When a disaster steps in,
no one should fight back,
because no one will leave a winner.
Both sides are bound to be hurt.

Shut up and try to fix this mess.
That's all the advice I'd give.

[Day 23] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 23

My Casket

I once had a casket,

in it stored a treasure,

people who come forth

see different things inside.

But one thing

is in common:

that the thing is

full of honesty.

Now I

don't want to keep it

anymore.

I gave it up to the bottom of the sea,

where

no one will ever find them or seek

treasure from it.

[Day 22] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 22

Friendships Wreck

Ay ay my friend.

We set sail to the sea of history.

We met, we dine, we dance.

I lost myself in trance.

I welcome you everyday

with a feast

and pour my heart into

your porous glassheart.

[Day 21] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 21

Here, My Hands

My right hand was an evil,

it brought me earthly pleasure.

While my left one is no angel,

it never tried to reach for closure.

Until one of them was damned by the sea

or lava.

From the mountain of curses, you see?

It should be over.

[Day 20] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 20

Knowledge-sucking Creatures

The more intelligent you are,

the more amount of blood you have.

That will draw the fangs

of the offsprings of Dracula of Wisdom.

[Day 19] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 19

You Shall See

A little ginger girl,

with a pumpkin print on

her daffodil attire--

walking on a meadow

under the boundless sky,

near a brisk river stream--

holds tight a purple heart;

soothes her half broken soul.

Her long-lost line of beauty

depends upon your stretching

this to a radiant curve.

[Day 18] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 18

A Poem for You

I want to share a

poem with you, but on second

thought, I'd rather not

[Day 17] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 17

A Musical Murderer

After a romantic reunion

in bed,

the satisfied man seemed to be sleeping

sweetly and soundly.

The reckless woman,

driven by drinks,

committed something that created

irrevocable consequences.

Clip

Clip

Clip

"What are you doing?"

Still holding the nail clipper,

the woman smiled

like a silly billy.

"Ha, ha…" 

Clink

Clank

Clunk

Shattered bottle of champagne was now wrung.

Bam

Wham

Lam

(Dayum) Her destiny was doomed.

The next noon,

news headline read:

Guitarist Murderer Still At Large.

(A man with his three fingernails on his right hand clipped or he who can play guitar well could be the suspect.)

[Day 16] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 16

...I Existed

Countless dawns
and
dusks have
gone like droplets
of water
in the river of no return.

No longer will I
utter
a word.

Soon in
heaven,
will I
perch.

I shall seize
every fighting chance,
to walk among young
strange souls.

Sigh
with sophistication,
hoping they would
realize I existed
when I'm gone.

[Day 15] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 15

On Writing Poetry

One must

have their

ideas

ready

before

they put

their pen

down to

write a
poem
like
this.

[Day 14] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 14

Musical Mobiles

I was like a baby being

put in the cradle, or whatever.

I don't fancy being strapped into a seat

and then ready to be amused by the chilly wind.

That center pulling and pushing forces

really made me want to vow--
meet the devil.

The soothing notes
no longer soothed my soul,
instead, they knocked on my stomach
and expected the grand opening of my mouth.

Can't do it anymore.
I'm done for tonight.

[Day 13] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 13

Souls and Spirits

Lively souls in a spirited shack
in came a bunch of men of guts,
including my friend and I,
except that I was not bold enough.

Breath
by breath--
pieces of my soul got--
sucked away.

My two reactions:

Remained silent,

which badly upset the souls'

expectation.

Laughed,

but again a question was thrown at me.

Though we were all of the same kind,
Makeup was where the difference laid.

Shall I have the chance,
I might have a try again.

[Day 12] 365 Days of Poetry Writing

Day 12

Whole Day Walking

Walked for a whole day,

my legs were so sore and tired.
I shall walk on hands.