memory – Page 4 – Portrait of Em.

thinking-together

Sloth leads to laziness in thinking and
Living keeps us staying awake.

“Thinking makes you a philosopher?”
— Thinking makes me a dreamer, I say.

“I am living in a dream
Dreams are existing in my life

When, am I awake?
When, am I dreaming?

Walk, Dream, Sleep, Dream, Live.”

You are existing in the dream and
Living in the dream.
For dreams become your reality and you are sleeping within.
So am I.

“I like how our words make a book together.”
Our book is made up of poems,
And our poems paint our dream.
We are the only two dreamy monsters
In this sweet lovely dream.

Written on 31 December 2013, co-poet is Cheron T.
Writing a poem together is fun.

home-coming

Home-coming,

Home-coming,
Right, my home, I am coming.

Here it is,
Quiet and high,
There it is,
Where I sigh,
Yes, I see,
Tides and waterfalls sometimes.

What was blue is now in pink,
What can be seen has all changed (“changed utterly”),
People once loved,
All disappeared and —
(Broken part lies in the deepest point at heart)
I am the only one who came.

The mind is drowning,
My soul is screaming,
Look at me, am I laughing?

Yes it is, it is,
Home-coming.

Written on 7 December 2013,
When I went back to my High-school.

good-old-days

Good Old Days —
Sweet memories,
Great time,
Captured moments,
passed years.

Laughter,
Cry,
Hunger, and
Anger,
Nothing left but mourn,
Nothing lasts but change.

Screams,
Screams,
More S-cream-sss,

In the sea of time,
In the tide of growth,
Tired of the present,
Sick of thinking about future,

And therefore, wishing for the passed, again!

Merrily, merrily, merry;
Hopelessly, hopelessly, HOPELESS.

Good Old Days,
Slipped Old Days,
The always-perfect-old-days.

Written on 29 October 2013,
When everyone is talking about the good old days.

Stay awake to dream.

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.

ash

How many people we meet in our life,
and how many leave their marks in it?
You may, perhaps,
call it as “fate”
which we could never change it a bit.

Parallel lines,
Intersecting points,
Overlapping time —

Who knows what is ahead?

Move on,
there is no way to return.

Flash —
tic-tac-tic-tac
moment never waits,
time never pauses,
and, thus, wake up.

Beauty would not last,
Words would be washed off,
Meanings lose,
Feelings fade,
Nothing can last
like a moment of flashback.

Written on 21 August 2013
A poem dedicated to the very interesting people whom I have met in my life —
And there will of course be more of them.