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Literature Text
old green shirt
inside leather jacket.
faded pants
over a pair of sneakers.
bonnet
above favorite shades.
brown wallet
chained to his pocket.
to this day,
i still keep
his silver watch
and ash tray.
i remember
his upset eyes
because i used
his bicycle once.
i remember
the disappointment
in later years
for i failed to live up
to expectations.
forgive me,
i'd rather
put together
memories this way:
he was a
cigarette-puffing,
wood-chopping,
banca-riding,
harmonica-playing,
transistor-listening,
flower-planting
bloke.
he lit firecrackers
with his mouth
through cigars.
he would pick
meat anytime
over fish,
over veggies.
he liked pomade,
he liked hair gel more.
he'd be happy to know
everything's high-tech now:
he would have marveled
at cellphones,
LCD TVs, i-pods,
laptops and
digicams.
he and i knew enough of deprivation:
it stared us both in the face,
it was the background of our life.
his generosity in my childhood
eased mine.
do i make more of him
in this poem?
if this were
a decent poem
or if i had been
a decent granddaughter,
i could make it up to him.
i miss tamales, Ama.
who else would go out of their way,
endure two hours on a bus
to bring me tamales?
i never gave you anything.
© 12.March.2012
Literature
apocryphal
so cunning and seemingly honest
at times there is nothing but wit
yet not quite real on the inside
but nothing we care to admit
Literature
Always
Alone upon the hill,
you stand.
Winters hand,
grips your limbs,
cold wind ripping,
at your core.
Just a shadow of yourself,
stands before the world.
But fear not,
soon winters hold,
will be burnt sunder.
Once more the light,
will fill your core.
Once more you shall bloom,
once more the beauty,
in you shall shine.
and know this,
alone you shall never stand,
for no matter were,
no matter what.
Be it light,
be it dark.
You shall always,
have a freind,
in me
Literature
2019
hair black, lips blood, skin bright,...
Snow White crossed my dreams tonight,...
and oh she waas so much like me,
drinker and a kid,
driving old cars, giving me creeps,
we shared a time of a time beyond our time...
yet Snow White - she never became mine
wearing all that colours ..... what she was was crystal clear ultraviolet
"not to touch, not to belong, and never to forget"
where her thoughts that spoke to me
yet that day she was already so far away from me
gently hold me hand Snow White
and kiss me sweet
and I may stroke your cheek
and time may stop
drip drop drip drop
hair black, lips blood, skin bright,...
Snow White crossed my dre
Suggested Collections
memories, do you keep them or allow them to fade? do they change in color, vibrancy, in some way? how much truth is there in your memories? (this is quite personal. it is for ama, my grandfather. today is his death anniversary. may God bless him.) i apologize for the adjectives and sentimentality throughout the poem. i could have toned down a bit but... anyway, i would like to highlight the connection my grandfather had with nature and a contrast to that - which is his curiosity and approval of changes in terms of technology, beauty products, etc... regret is a powerful emotion. time is a hands-on teacher. lucky you if you have a good relationship with your grannies, 
© 2012 - 2024 wispy-blue
Comments25
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I actually really like the sentimentality - that long middle stanza kicks in beautifully, a glowing tribute in the middle of... emotional confusion, I think. I read like an attempt to eulogize a man who perhaps you were never quite sure of, a man you perhaps never understood. The tributes - trivial though they are - are warm, but there's a lack of conviction there.
I rather suspect you'll have given him a lot more than you think. In any case, I think this is a lovely - and honest - tribute.
I rather suspect you'll have given him a lot more than you think. In any case, I think this is a lovely - and honest - tribute.