que pasa - poetry

Screeching scooters

noreply@blogspirit.com (mashie) — Tue, 22 May 2007 23:27:28 +0800

Like nails clawing the length of the chalkboard,
Like metal forks scratching the surface of porcelain plates,
Like skin being peeled off shrieking cats
Are the ear-piercing cringe-inducing screeches of scooters braking to stop
Before they crash into other vehicles ahead, beside and oncoming,
As if to warn of their presence, securing their riders cacophonous passage.

Rain

noreply@blogspirit.com (mashie) — Fri, 20 May 2005 09:15:00 +0800

I mentioned the term "extractions" in Dreary Day. Papa swung by with the rain yesterday. Here is what we ended up with.

The skies open up
With it comes release
For nature and the world
Didn't know I needed this

Schoolboy walks past caught in the rain
Me and 'brella, don't feel his pain
Baleful glare, thinks I don't understand
But wretchedness - she has many hands

I have no more tears
The skies can do the crying
But the rain doesn't stop
Did I have so much bottled up?

Rain, turn brown to green again
It needs time, don't know…

I like you

noreply@blogspirit.com (mashie) — Wed, 06 Apr 2005 00:45:00 +0800

It is interesting how conversations converged around the same topic this week. This poem is for Jayne and the guy she likes (but she does not know if he likes her back). And for everyone looking for that wonderful connection that leads to something more.

It's so silly - this feeling of waiting The anticipation and the hope It probably doesn't matter to you You have passed that slope I should walk away yet I linger I will still place a wager At worst, disappointment and frustration A chance at a lovely future Yet each time I start to turn away…