If I Could Talk

“In matters of principle, stand like a rock.” ~Thomas Jefferson

To the visitors of the park:

i refuse to be taken down by nature
i refuse to let go off my duty
i refuse to continue without this view before me
i will stay here until all my legs give up

if you want to help
take care of me, not just watch me falling into pieces
appreciate me, not just use me
build me, not just break me

i know i have no voice, but you have a heart
i know i am small, but you can do more
i know i am nothing alone, but you are many things
i know i am easy to be replaced, but you are irreplaceable

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.  ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Thank you very much to Jingle Poetry’s invitation to join Poetry Potluck this week, even though I’m not following their prompt for this week. However, perhaps we can always ask the question, who is the bench’s boss, who’s in charge, who makes the decision? So with this thought to reflect, I decided to join Poetry Potluck. Please click the picture below to see plenty more of poems.


Missing Her

she has a way of waking her mommy up
laying down right next to her
as if she owns the bed
parking her bottom facing her

she has a way of owning the house
marking her presence everywhere
in places where nobody would guess
I bet she wouldn’t mind to be called a queen

she has a way of owning the yard
planting her seeds in every corner
she makes no resentment over the changing of weather
her skin color just pops under the sun

she has a way of getting along with kids
the best entertainer anyone could ask for
perhaps even the best babysitter in the neighborhood
caution, she is good in stealing heart

and she has a way of doing just that,
you know, stealing heart
even after years of post-goodbye
a slight of memory, a cup full of tears

her name is Bonnie
and she is the jewel of her mommy’s heart

***This poem is inspired by a true story. Thus, I dedicate this to the two people in the poem, my friend who had to leave behind her baby in this country after making a decision to go back to her home country a few years ago, and her baby, Bonnie, of course. Meet Bonnie in a picture below. Isn’t she a cutey-pie?




This post is part of One Single Impression’s challenge: Miss (Long for). Please click on OSI’s badge below to see more creations from other creative and more experienced poets.


And the Poetry Pantry # 53 at Poets United:

About a Wall

she just came in a little too late
his wall was up long ago
what’s left for her now are his hurtful words
opening new wounds on others, while
protecting the fragile self inside
what will happen to the self in the future,
no one knows
not even him
too lost in his own game
buried deep in his own pride

for now
the wall continues
protecting, comforting
while giving him time to search
but confused of what
and what would be more painful than that state of mind?

still unable to utter the words locked inside
that weigh a ton on his shoulders,
they push him down
to the deepest part of his fortress
while she,
watching from a far
in pain
wondering when the wall will fall down
afraid that her wall may eventually have to go up too
from feeling too much and
not knowing what else to do

life is a journey
for these two sickly birds
wanting to fly away to escape pain
free to roam the sky
and having no strings attached
but they could only fly so far
gravity will always bring them down again
to where they started
at the wall

and the scene continues
replayed over and over again
in her dreams

This post is part of Saturday Centus. The task this week is to write 200 words using the prompt “the wall was built long ago.”  Please click the picture below to see more Saturday Centus posts from other bloggers. So far I have enjoyed all of the Saturday Centus’ challenge.

Who Am I, Who Are You?

Credit to KirbyTails@DeViantArt

a porcelain she’s

molded to be, but a bright lamp she

evolves into, giving lights








I chose to ignore the 5-7-5 rule here in order to follow the message of this poem. I think it is more beautiful this way than when I tried to fit the words into the restricted style.

This post is part of Haiku Heights Prompt #46: Porcelain. Please click the picture below to see more wonderful haikus written by others.



as usual
the hands
reaching out from the dark
tugging on her dress
pleading her to join their rehearsed dance
she resigns at first
backing away
but eventually turns around
too overwhelmed by curiosity
this ambivalence
she knows it well
keeps her coming back
such a dizzying spell
a slave in this circle
burdened by obligations
drugged by love
bound to a constant wonder

but today
is not usual
she refuses
tired of this dance
her feet are heavy
sluggish in her moves
forgetting her steps
no more joy
comforting no longer
she cries out
begs for an ending
no more encore
no curtain call
she’s done

is what comes first
she hears nothing
not even a drop of her tear
next comes the chill
starts on the toes, and
comes out in a cold breath
she looks around the room
recognition slowly coming
darkness is the color
no one else in the room
just her blank eyes
the silence was deafening

and then
she hears it
a whisper
strange yet familiar
telling her,
catch it before it’s gone
she answers, in that trepid voice
look up, it says
out the window

it’s in that moment
she sees it
its presence blaring
the realization was almost blinding
how could she not see it, she asks
who are you?
darkness, it says
it will do that to you
you know me this whole time
you hear me but
you listen not
i come from a place so deep
no one can drill their way
to find me but you
so go ahead
go out there

not as usual
tastes sweet
the blast of heat on her face
as she opens the door
almost unrecognizable
but she knows
she remembers
she welcomes it
a pair of sun glasses in hand
she steps out
letting go darkness behind her
she moves on