feelings

ration-ale

everything happens
for
a reason,
but you do not
need
a reason
for
something
to be happened.

Written on 7 March 2014.

aeruophobia

i cannot help with the sense of fear,
what if it is the last time i see you,
who knows what would happen in the air,
or if it is the nature’s rule?

if it is the last time
i hold you and kiss you and declare my love;
if our love is a crime
and i am to be engulfed,

i wish to say
for the last time that i love
you and never want to stay away
from you, for true;

one last time to realize that life is too fragile,
too short, yet quick and fast
to be held, be grabbed for a while,
we got but a blast.

things are, for sure, unpredictable,
this is the fate
whether affordable,
too serious to love, to live and to hate.

Written on 7 August 2014,
the very first business trip.

mémoire

clutters of thoughts,
crushed feelings,
crashed emotions,

laughter, surprise, sadness,
grief, tears, screams,
moan, mourn, regrets,
creep,

all that come in a sudden
like a flash
at a moment,

too short to be held,
too soon to be understood,
too fast to be remembered,

but this is the way of life, of nature, of world.

Written on 17 February 2014,
In memoir of Mr Mui, a former teacher of mine, who passed away earlier.

us-as-sinners

i am a sinner
no matter what
no matter what
i am a sinner
no matter what

for every line i write
for every word i say
for every stroke i paint
for every suggestion i make
for every clue i give
no one is to hear
to listen
to understand

to the sky
to the sea
to the landfill
to the gutter

better say nothing
better not to think

in a world like this
of ours
we are all sinners

written on 23 Jan 2014

heart-of-darkness

Towards the darkness is a heart of hardness,
Messy and rusted,
Frosted on the ripple of stagnant moment.

Fragments of life,
Jigsaw’s pieces,
The lonely puzzle that is never to be completed,
For the fragile heart is broken into pieces
Engulfed by the mouth of —

Spirit of darkness,
Heart of coldness.

Written on 25 Jun 2014.
The very first poem since I have officially started my career last week.
I am, still and will be, a poet.

Capture it with your eyes,
Carve it on your soul:

There is always something
That you cannot keep through the lenses,
That you cannot keep it with snaps and shots,
That you cannot re-present it by words and phrases —

Your feeling is everything
That counts.

Written on 26 December 2013.
Something about feelings.
Have not been updating recently because I was busy hunting for a job.
And now it is done.
Right — people here, in this very city, are born to be deprived.

sea-side

Here we are,
All alone,
Forever alone.

Lie there the old, forgotten bowl,
Alone for years, or one maybe,
Once used for breakfast, luncheon and supper,
Until it can hold nothing.
Lying alone,
Forever alone.

At the sea side, I saw
Not only the old forgotten bowl,
But also the newly bought toy car.
“A young boy left it here,” I was told.
Forgotten car,
Forgotten childhood,
Forgotten innocence.
Nothing but memories are left with it —
Old memories, no longer fresh,
Stagnant.
Who knows who its owner was,
Who knows why He left it here,
Who cares —
And here it lies,
Lying alone,
Forever alone.

And I saw the broken beer bottles,
Once They chatted together,
Holding the beer,
Cheers and cheers, they went,
Now nothing but the bottles left.
How many broken hearts they had comfort,
And how many they saw are healed.
There they are,
Lying alone,
Forever alone.

And the lighthouse,
Here it stands,
Days and nights.
Guiding the lost boats,
Greeting the large ships,
But how many do care here it stands?
Here it stands,
Standing alone,
Forever alone.

And here We are,
Family and Friends,
Siblings and Lovers,
We play, We talk, We walk,
But how many do understand
The underlying world of darkness
Hiding beneath the fragile heart —

Here we are,
All alone,
Forever alone.

Written on 13 October 2013,
In Lei Yue Mun, Hong Kong.

Seeing the forgotten, worn-out pieces of memories on the beach next to the old lighthouse.