Sunday, August 22, 2010

Random poems over the years

Ode to my job
So begins a new day in this lovely office of mine where the sun don't ever shine, and flowers do die. Where egos soar, and morale dive into new depths each day. Oh what joy it is to witness the Olympian event of colleagues dodging responsibilities, jumping to conclusions, shooting their mouths off, and throwing crap around. it is indeed quite a sight to behold. And the cacophony of keyboards, pointless gossips, stifled giggles - what a symphony. The sun may rise and fall, the moon shall wane, and still this office shall remain an edifice of endless bane.  
What jubilation is this, what trials and tribulations? Alas, but for a few dollars more I remain, a humble servant, squandering time and youth.



On Parting
I shall stand in the storm that you may not know the difference between my tears and the rain.
May thunders roar to drown out my cry of agony, winds to match my woeful wail.
May lightening flashes blind our eyes that we may not see our silhouettes fading in opposing horizons.
Oh, let me be soaked to the bones, willing, wanting, wishing the cold wetness to numb my heart.

And when the winds do stop, when the clouds do fade,
May the sun find you and I in a better place.
May God then in his mercy spread His brush, 
Paint us a rainbow, bridging the great divide that parts us.



On Fog
A gray blanket upon God's green earth,
The dense fog veils me in its translucent embrace
Mother Nature's silky negligee, delicate and refined, clinging, lingering and alluring.
It urges me onward, daring me to explore, to extend myself beyond what can be seen.
Behold, a tranquil stillness punctuated only by the occasional rays and protruding shadows,
Heaven and earth merge in the midst of a mystic haze
I cannot see my journey's end, but heart's content at ease in this mist.


Death

Of Death which is certain, I shall waste no thought upon it.
Of the afterlife, which shall remain unknown to me until Mors himself beckons, I shall not dread it.
Only this will I fear with great intensity - a life so lived that it warrants a mediocre obituary.

I want no fancy epitaph, nor an elegant coffin.
I pray my funeral be simple, filled with bittersweetness.
But pray dear God, let me lived such that I garnered some great eulogies.

I want no more than a special place in my loved ones' fond memories.
I ask just to be remembered, by my name, by the multitudes I have touched.
I shall so die peacefully because then I know I have lived, and will live on.

Poet
The "poet", sitting in his dim-witted world, wrote.
He wrote of things insubstantial, using words of less than childish splendor.
All the while wishing, that these lines he wrote would spread his name,
until fame like wild flame brings him grandeur.

Ah, but those who read of his prose, shakes their heads,
Be it in mocking laughter, be it in dismal disapproval,
this they know, that he was by no means a poet.
Yet, still he wrote, and wrote, and wrote...

Listen
When you stop and listen, you will hear the voice of God through the whispering of the leaves, the songs of the birds, trickling sound of water falling and most of all through the comforting words of loved ones.

When you pause and look, you will witness the miracles of everyday life; from the rising sun, to the happy faces of those sitting across you on the subway, each is a living testomony that this day has indeed been blessing in itself.

And lastly, remember this, although God may be intangible in many ways (totaliter aliter), He is always there, ready to embrace you in the arms of your friends.. Therefore, do not be sad... Cry if you must, for once in a while tears are like the refreshing rain for the soul; but always remember to smile, because that is the rainbow which inspires all.

Inspiration came at night
"Oy! You awake?
Inspiration is coming, better get up and write down something.
Oh, but I am so tired and sleepy,
plus I have no pen and pad?
Perhaps it is best to let me sleep upon it,
I shall remember it in the morning.
Slept I, morning comes, inspiration flown."

I am handy
This earth that I walk, this air that I breathe, what does it all mean? The sky is vast, the stars are many, and yet here I feel so lonely. Memories upon memories, life is full of stories. Do I move forward, or should I walk backwards ever towards the future? The crowd past me by, like migrating birds southward flies. Who is moving, who is stationary? No one knows, life is full of alternates, dichotomies that seem to never end. Oh, but they do, and it shall be at that point that you shall find me. I shall be your balance, I shall be your reference. When you seek to soar up high, I shall be your anchor. When you wish to dive into the deep blue sea, I shall be your navigator. Here I will be, ever the one beside you in times of need. So forget me not, forget me not, for my name is Andy, and I am always handy.

Be not stressed
Be not stressed, no matter how unsurpassable the task may be, be not stressed. The skies is the limit, and though our roads may be filled with obstacles, we shall conquer them yet. Look behind you, see how far you have come? Oh, this mountain before you may seem tall, but consider the hills and valleys you have traveled thus far, were they not intimidating when you stood at the beginning? Life is a river, it moves on... no matter what happens, it flows like a river - ever downstream. Once in a while, you trip over the smallest pebbles; crash into protruding rocks; you plunge down the steepest falls. Other times, you flow by peaceful valleys and wondrous landscapes. Still we go, according with the flow. The torrent threatens to throw us off course, the current seeks to overturn our vessels, but still you will hang on, for the very hands which caused the waves are the same hands which shall steady your boat. Have faith little ones, in the midst of all the doubt, have faith.

Life is not often about destinations, but rather the journey which gets us to it. There are those who are fortunated to know what to do to get to where they wanted to be, but for many others, life is a continuous process of discernment. Deciding from moment to moment, making choices until we get to where we needed to be. Those choices helps us mature, there are no mistakes, just longer winding paths.

The wind
And here I will be, the lonely wind that blows gently. You shall know that I am here whenever you see the leaves rustle, the water ripple. I will be here, caressing the tips of grass as I pass through, swirling up the dust. Perhaps, then you shall remember me. Don't try to catch hold of me for I appear without a trace and leave without a sign. I am a free spirit, coming and going as I pleased. Like sand, you shall not contain me with your fingers, like water I linger not in one place too long. I am evanescent.

I wish you wouldn't
Je souhaite que vous cessiez de vous imposer dans mes pensees ? Je souhaite que vous ne m'ayez pas vole coeur, particulierement pas la maniere que vous l'avez fait avec juste un regard simple. Ne pouvez-vous pas voir ce que vous avez fait ? Vous avez pris mon ame, et a gauche moi inacheve. Je souhaite que je puisse m'abstenir a vous aimer mais je ne puisse pas arreter cette sottise, je ne puisse pas arreter mon infatuation pour vous parce que c'est vous.

If I have the chance
I often wonder if I had the chance, would I have the courage to ask you for a dance. I often wonder, if I was not who I am, would you have looked upon me with more favor in your eyes. Perhaps it was meant to be that my tongue is tied as I saw you walk by; just passing strangers beneath the same blue sky.

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