Poem #46: Morning Rays

The eyes that see
my true self
with the kindness
of the heart.

The smile that warms
my heart and soul
with the happiness
it brings.

The arms that hold
my entire being
with the warmth
of love.

The lips that whisper
into my heart
its pure wish
for joy.

How could I
be so lucky
to have met
my sunshine?

But how could I
be so blind
to let it
leave me?

As the sun bathes
us with morning
rays, she says
good bye.

**Morning Rays, a poem written on April 13 – 14, 2015, in response to the prompt, an aubade.

Poem #45: Heading East

Wild nights in the lost sea!
Wild nights! We shall have together
In this small boat, were I with thee!

Wild nights should be our luxury!

Futile as it’s a problematic sort,
the winds of change will be our guide so
let us head east, to a heart in port!

Done with the compass! Done with the chart!

Rowing, even when our arms ache,
in Eden, it may be a challenge
but we shall not stop until… Ah the Sea!

Might I but moor tonight in thee!

**Heading East, a poem written on April 12, 2015, in response to the prompt on Day 5, a reconstructed Emily Dickinson poem (Wild nights – Wild nights!)

SOURCE OF POEM: Here

Poem #44: Between the Lines and Images

On the sun visor
of the taxi on the
driver’s side, you see
photographs of his kids.

Despite all of the
sickness eating his
body away, the kid
never stops praying.

On the PB and J sandwich the
mother packs for her
kid, she leaves a note:
“Eat well and have fun!”

Despite hunger and poverty,
he still stands for many hours
in the middle of the road,
selling his goods.

On the night of her
entrance exam for law school,
the whole house is quiet
and the little kids sleep.

Despite all odds,
even if the car broke
the best friend brings
notes for tomorrow’s test.

In these lines and images,
it may not be seen
but people know
what the they mean.

**Between the Lines and Images, a poem written on April 11, 2015, based on the fourth prompt, a “loveless” love poem

Poem #43: Waiting in Vain

Only by December, we promise to meet and see if:
Life will let love take its place and set its course after parting.
January is about new beginnings and endings.
Without you, I wake up at night, wishing you were here now.
February is when hearts and chocolates fill the scene.
Lovers are around and about; I miss you more and more.
March is the month when the seasons change from winter to spring.
I feel the need to let change set in so I could be free.
April is beautiful, with all the colors setting in.
I find myself appreciating the world on my own.
May is our birth month and would-have-been anniversary.
Celebrating feels rather surreal now that you are gone.
June brings in the sun and is supposedly fun and wild.
I join our friends for adventures but it is not the same.
July is a month of freedom and peace for all of us.
But even at this point, I still feel myself chained to you.
August is another dead month; time goes by without haste.
I ignore this gnawing pain inside and go on with life.
September brings in change once more, and you closer to home.
I find distractions to grow into while waiting for you.
October lets in the cold wind as the leaves change colors.
I keep myself warm with thoughts of you and me together.
November’s chilly moments come and go without a trace.
I prepare myself to welcome you back into my arms.
December’s snow and the holiday cheer spreads like warm fire.
I stand where you left me, very eager to see you now.

Where are you, my love? Have you forgotten today’s meeting?

Only then I am told that you’ll never come back to me.
Your mother comes to see me with a letter in her hand.
She gives it to me, and waits for me to read what it says.

You were shot during a crossfire and never made it.

**Waiting in Vain, a poem written based on NaPoWriMo’s third prompt, fourteeners, on April 9 – 10, 2015

Poem #41: Memory Reconstruction

We did not meet at the most inconvenient time — students in one of the biggest universities in the country, fresh with hopes and dreams.

We did not sit beside one another — eventually finding out that we share many worlds of interests and loving conversations.

We did not spend days together — laughing at the same things, dancing in the rain, talking about our hopes and dreams, and much more…

We did not kiss under the stars — that night we saw shooting stars while seated on the hood of your car and made that silly wish to be together forever.

We did not hold hands and go on dates — because we were friends before lovers   and simply stayed the same happy duo everyone knew through the years.

We did not fight and try to change — as problems come and go, we died a little and the love started wilting away as things got more complicated.

We did not go to this pre-graduation rave — where I saw you kissing this frosh and you saw me being manhandled by a jock I had a crush on.

We did not talk or meet since then — as we both know how much space we need in order to think about the right things to say.

We did not agree to meet in the classroom — where everything started and, eventually, ended with a hug and a few tears along with us parting ways.

We did not go our separate ways — with you heading off to med school with that frosh in your arms and me entering the corporate world with only my guts and brains in tow.

We did not meet again until years later — in a get-together with our common friends, drinking the night away with cocktails and conversations.

We did not talk to each other like we used to — sharing the same happy vibe we had in college, loving our current unattached selves, and working our way to our goals in life.

We did not say that we’ll meet and talk some more after the party — even if we both know it wasn’t going to happen as circumstances prevent us from doing so.

We did not meet that terrible accident on the highway — the beam did not fall from the unfinished skyway, smashing our convoy of cars.

You did not make it — but we died that night, swiftly and silently, without much of a fight.

I did not think it would hurt this much — losing you for the second time around made life rather… unbearable.

I did not move since then — so I was brought to someone who could reconstruct my memories of us.

I did not fight back the reconstruction — a tear slid down my cheek as I stared at the pendulum while a voice tells me my new memories.

I don’t know what I am talking about.

**Memory Reconstruction, a poem based on NaPoWriMo’s first prompt, negation, written on April 9, 2015.