time – Portrait of Em.

Ashes

A miserable night,
Tears amid solitude,

Silence of the heart,
Unheard scream stuck at the bottom of the throat,

Broken dreams
Too fragile kept,

Fragments too sharp to be collected
Left ignored
Reduced to ashes…

Written on 12 September 2017.

throw-back

I am not sure if I am remembering things in the right way:
The sequence,
The consequence,
The happenings,
The said and the unsaid,
The remembered and the forgotten,
The notice and the unnoticed.

“Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.”

I remember the day,
Where the dark and the bright places were inverted, inside-out;
The sun was setting
Inside my heart of darkness,
Over the hills and far away,
Where the lie lies

The elongated shadow on the wooden floor,
A vanished mom,
A lonely kid and a helpless maid,
A red phone,
Reaching out to no one.

The scream, the cry and the tears
Inside the heart of darkness
Has never been revealed.
For seventeen years it has been hidden,
Leaving unsaid and unnoticed.

A silent sunset,
An unanswered prayer,
An unheard scream
Inside the heart of darkness.

And will stay forever.

Written on 10 July 2017.
A throwback, a flashback, a reminder, an alert.

lost-time

In search of lost time —
a moment frozen,
dropping sand, pouring water, steaming vapour,
a second to remember.

Cracked hourglass,
time moving backward,
a mirror universe.

Written on 19 December.
A remembrance of things past.

the-sunset

the sunset at the college
always reminds me of the
happy carefree days

when we are all nineteen
and here we met
we play and craze
and skipped the lessons
we talk of the dreams
we think nonsense
we feel youth

the sunset
the sunset!

always perfectly warm and bright beam
disguising as an eternal moment.

Written on 25 November 2014
At HKBU, during the sunset

a-return

a return
from the hell of fire
from the heart of darkness
from the cave of silence
from the sea of despair

a place with hope and light
sometimes a heavy shower
or maybe a sip of breeze
or with the burning sun
and always twenty one

for decades or so
it is always twenty one
the mercy the play the craze the youth the fun

stupidity and innocence
where we believe we are old enough for choices and chances
shameless and fearless

a place of memory
a spot in the memory
a return

that can never ever return

Written on 25 November 2014
At HKBU — a place of memory after 3 years of studying

rain

naughty little rain drops
falling, popping like an army of frogs
quick and secret and feared and stuck
in the absence of hope and luck

tears of the midnight sky
mourning for the little bird that could not fly
feeling lost and confused and lonely and sad
the magic spell is left unsaid.

Written on 15 October 2014.

little-bunny-asleep

sweet sleep, long night, silent air —
a little bunny curled around the soft blanket
a tiny treat, dreaming sweet
nothing can compare with the warmth of the feet

good night, sweet dreams.

Written on 5 november 2014.

lovely little birds from the north
pick up the messy lines of nerves
in the woods inside the skull
the thicker one is picked by a gull
and the thinner ones by crows
all but one of the warblers stayed and the room is stuffed full

crumpled nerves make a nest in the head
scratching
stretch
aching
squeezing
evacuating

the last warbler go with the robin into the woods
here they fly
heretheyfly

to the edge of sanity
to the border in front of melancholy

and they stopped
and they stopped

on the fragile branch of a tree
emptied wholly.

Written on 28 October 2014.

emotion-leakage

for all the screams and pains and tears
that are leaking out
from my secret hide-out:

the silent scream
the dark out beam
and the melted ice-cream
in the childhood dream

creeping from the still air
emerging from the iced wter

say good bye
and farewell
for those are what to be sacrificed
in a life in the hell

Written on 24 September 2014.

Save-us

To be or not to be
That is the question
All that we yell or request or want
Is but the dream to be free

Some are far too childish
And some are bit too coward
But we are not rubbish
For you to bully and push us forward

Our city is dead
And the news is to be spread
Democracy is dead
And the news is left unread

Save us
Save our city
Save our democracy
Save our Hong Kong

Which is killed and buried and sad

Written on 28 September
When history repeats itself
When Tiananmen massacre re-happens