old as the sun


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I composed this to the chorus of ‘Roses of May’ from FFIX, you can try singing along from the point I linked! 😀

war leaves its trail;
our peace was so frail.
our cities it razed,
and gravestones it raised
in its place.

nowhere to run;
no person unharmed.
war is ugly and cruel
and as old as the sun.

‘please come home safe,’ she prayed;
‘i’ll be here, i’ll wait for you.’
‘i will, i promise you.’
… what else could i have said?

then she said,
‘leave your worries behind,
i will take care of our home.’
dear God, don’t let this be
a journey without return.

strongholds they fell,
and soldiers were felled.
they weep for their men –
the mothers and the daughters.

nowhere to run;
no person unharmed.
war is ugly and cruel
and as old as the sun.

war leaves its trail;
our peace was so frail.
our cities it razed,
and gravestones it raised
in its place.

skies burn with ash,
the rivers with blood.
i pray you won’t have
to weep for me, my muse.

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little woman full of fear; little woman full of love

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i know a little woman full of fear.
her shoulders were not so broad
and she was often overawed
by the little things which she held dear.

but what she had was a heart of gold;
the kind which was the envy of every soul;
the kind which kept a family whole.

to clothe us in warmth she burned herself;
for our comfort she waged her health.

she is dawn’s first ray after the longest night;
in complete darkness our guiding light;
doing her human best to teach us right.

she is the shore where land meets sea;
no matter how violently the sea waves crashed ashore,
she embraced them tenderly all the same.

 i know this little woman full of love;
forgive me my mother; i love you.

Happy Mother’s Day to mother’s everywhere. : )

To the children:
She has been, is and will be your mother all the days; from when you were birthed into the world, to the day you are returned to the earth. While man-made occasions like this serve as a helpful reminder for us to be grateful and thankful (as well as a reason for celebration!), I hope you will take it to heart to love them no less on the ordinary days, and on days which are less than ordinary.

And to my own mother:
Forgive me for being ungrateful.
I love you.

the summer days (are over)

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Been working on this one for a while.
It’s kind of a sequel / rewrite of an older post I made long ago:
https://flounderinglion.wordpress.com/2013/10/28/the-summer-days/

it was summer where i lived.

sometimes, the heat got unbearable,
and i’d lament the departed spring breeze.
still, i was glad to have found you, summer;
to have found comfort in warmth so tangible.

from sleep i’d wake to your jolting tidings.
often mischievous, but always hearty;
you were a radiant light of life.
i’d wake with a spring in my step.
for a season in the sun, i had wings.

you always found ways to make my forlorn heart sing.

but seasons come and seasons go;
summer came and summer went.

i bathed myself in the shivering cold.
there were no tears on my face; only snow.
the familiar whispers of the winter winds
caressed me with a different kind of comfort;
the kind i was used to.

summer comes and summer goes;
‘are you real or are you a ghost?’

i wondered and wondered for days on end,
picking at a wound which i knew would not mend.

probably,
summer had always existed only in my heart;
and i only built a snowman as i dreamt.

but even then,
summer was a season where i grew,
a season where i learnt;
a happy season of my life.

in my youth i dreamt of you as wife,
today i resolve to cut you from my life.
there’s still a faint summer’s warmth where i live,
but this time, i think i’m ready to leave.

so i thank you,
for the time we talked on the roof,
and for being the summer of my youth.

 —-

Farewell.

silly

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if from this road i ever this stray,

would you be out there searching for me?

would it be a brilliant warming ray,

or a weeping downcast over me?

 

silly boy, wherever you go there i’ll be.

it may take a while, but i will find you.

when you’re lost, i’ll help you find your way.

even if you lose it all, we’ll just start anew.

and when you grow old and your hairs turn gray,

look beside you;

unfailingly, there i’ll be.

 

I’m gonna experiment with an ‘Author’s Interpretation’ section following my poems. They will be in white font, so you’ll need to highlight them to see.

Please give me some feedback as to whether it’s helpful!

 

AUTHOR’S INTERPRETATION:

The spark that set off this poem was the first line from Angus & Julia Stone’s ‘Get Home’:

If I ever, ever did stray
Would you come back
Come back to me?

I imagined a scenario where a man stands at (figurative) crossroads, where any decision he makes (and he must make one) will have huge repercussions on his life. He muses whether his adored one would follow him, or if the path is one he must walk alone. The rest should be pretty straightforward. :B

 

p/s: you may also request for me to write an Author’s Interpretation (AI) for any of my previous works.