-1.05

 


I can't talk about paintings or paints,

I do not know a thing about oars either.

Neither can I add French nor German nor Latin,

For I do not speak those languages;

Else, it would've been more romantic.



How I wish I could get you the stars!

Because that's what you deserve.

But all I've got is this poem;

Though I tried and my thoughts to thee attend,

It's too bad the words don't even rhyme.



You're the glasses to my -1.05 vision;

You're all I see when everything else is blur.

And if we're promised forever;

I'd still ask for a day more.

'Cause darling, forever ain't enough.




Kayangulam HO

08 April, 2021

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Expectation: A lament

The weather app showed rain, Sally’s been praying for days. The heat had bound her like a chain; The heat cycle ran like a maze. The rain did not arrive. The app was wrong again. Like a watchman she stayed till five Expectation only brings pain. Expectation, like comparison, drains the mind. I’ve slain a lamb in expectation.  My sheep’s clothing made me blind. Is this a dream or just imagination? The rain will not come, nor will the harvest; The toil must start, the soil prepared. When songs arise through the forest, The harvest will again be shared.  Ebbtide Thlaṭau 09, 2026
Read more

My forever home

  If one could measure beauty, The moon in her ethereal shimmer, Or the stars in their dazzling charm, Or nature in her rustic elegance, All would tip her scales. If one could measure love, Her grace-laden love would, Outweigh them all. For the moons and stars and nature, Love is a word they do not know. Like a bee to a flower, So am I to her love. Like a mercy’s doorway for a stranger, Deep and boundless. And I belong.  My forever home. Eventide 02 Thlahmur, 2025
Read more

Lachrymose

  When winds and waves, in mimic strife, Clash and roar like war come to life, You calm this troubled-headed man, His war-torn soul protected from bloodshed. How I wish the cold winter nights would never end, Like stories by the hearth, with no parting bell tolled. But to slow down time, we could only pretend, For nights, like life and time, do not last forever. Three thousand useless miles now keep us apart, Yet this heart yearns for your presence, Like a little boy by his mother’s side, For in those two eyes, I found my home. Eventide Thlavul 06, 2025
Read more