How do you measure the distance
between two hearts?
Is it time apart or silence’ depth,
The count of arguments,
The weight of doubts.
And the when
Is it not the very question itself
That marks the beginning
of yet another end.
Kin by pact forged by fate,
souls of all walks,
together treading along
the same uncertain path.
Brotherhood of friendships
found, lost, and recovered;
unlikely and yet a perfect fit,
pieces of a puzzle board.
Spokes of Fortune’s wheel.
How did that go again,
The moment when we knew?
Tell me before we say goodbye.
How did it feel when we started to fall
So in love, so in love.
I remember the rain on that young Friday night
That urged us close under your umbrella.
There were the golden city lights, the cars and the train,
Yet nothing distracted me more than you
As we got lost in the heart of the City
Laughing and smiling together.
I recall these things at this late hour
But I can’t remember them without you.
Before we let go, can we share one last time
How did that go again,
If one’s world are all the eyes could see,
then mine is an arm’s circle.
But this closed space is everything I need –
a singular station rooted
within bounds of stone.
Brick by brick I have built the walls called distance;
burned each bridge that were once silver and gold.
The empty moon hide thorn-laden grass.
A moat of silence keep the phantom siege at bay.
This castle of one is my own peace.
Have you ever stopped and reflect on how people in the past contacted each other and what difference there is between the times on that aspect? Have you weighed the consequences for having such modern means of communication and information dissemination. Perhaps you have had this vague sense that some price must have been paid for this convenience that would have been too good to be true for people from a different age. What are the values that were borne from the different kinds of media for reaching out to one another and what are the values lost from the shift to modernity? Don’t you wonder? I do.
A Sonnet that was created from these thoughts – With just your voice
Here is my page for the Sonnet on the new menu above.
I have written two sijo for two plants that are so associated with Christmas that it just won’t be the same without them. Just me showing a little appreciation for them.
An origin poem for the timeless tradition of kissing under the mistletoe
“All but the humble mistletoe“
Red as fire that could almost melt the snow, a poinsettia sijo
“Flame flower burning bright“
Check out other Sijo I’ve written on through my Sijo page
I waited for the tears to come as they always do –
endless until they meet empty slumber.
But none appear while hollow breaths
punctuate the silence of the room;
affirmation of the torrent of emotions
suddenly hushed to quiet.
I am without pain
only inexplicable stupor.
Then even that dissolves into the void. Continue reading