We were all much younger, happier then,
And untouched by heartache, sadness;
In dreams, we go back again and again,
And bring to our hearts gladness!
From Grandpa Frank, father of the Fields,
And Miss Pauline, who married his boy;
The hand of fate's no longer concealed,
As countless descendents live the joy.
"An Elephant never forgets", they say.
An Elephant never forgets.
From the moment they're born
Sixty to seventy years more,
And yet an Elephant never forgets.
I think about how an Elephant never forgets,
No, an Elephant never forgets.
Their mother's embrace,
Their favored drinking place,
We were going on a trip to the never ending space.
But soon we realized that we’re lost in a place,
Where there is no smell and no taste,
Nothing is useful and nothing is waste.
Not a speck of colour, nor a bit of odour.
For months I've been trying to write
Trying to keep my pace, trying to fight
Organizing my words...it felt like suffering from a concussion
'Cause in scribbling I see no passion.
For weeks I've been trying to read
Fiction stories I love indeed
Thank you, Lori Brighton
I was able to explore the world in a new dimension.
An eighteen hour trip with two layovers
But when the mechanical wings finally breach the clouds
It's worth it
This land, however distant, is lush and green
Hills mark the skyline and square patches show the division of farms like a patchwork quilt
White dots speckle the ground and I never realized so many sheep existed
It's different here
I can drink despite only being eighteen
Buses and trains take me places I only knew cars to take me before
Glory he only knew in retrospect -
a life misremembered,
time's gentle mercy
insidious slow poison senescence.
He's doubled over in reverie -
swapped sense of self,
Change's open wound embrace
“The day you left, everything changed”.
I stared at the wood-clad wall in the room, watching
How she pulled silk jacket off her weary shoulders.
Light dwindled as she passed by neon lamp
Glowing on table that separated us at my home.
Shade fell on her face, as she sat in the chair
And lit a cigarette, absently looking at the
Same spot on the wall. I would not recognise
Her if not the eyes, oblivious to the ache
Sun-dried tomato sandwich went stale
On a table in an empty cafe in Duarte, where I waited for
My mother’s treatment to end in the nearby hospital,
While tomato-red sunset coloured the nearby mountains.
I impatiently checked for messages from Oxford.
As a week earlier I sent a post-card with a short cue
Which I bought in gallery, where I drank a latte,
Brewed by a brunette that reminded me of you.
“Loving only each other”, - you said, sipping a pink gin and tonic, -
“Is as silly as loving no one. Desires are circular,
Hence, no action or inaction acquires anything new
Beyond what we already have”.
A cold breeze blew through the wooden door of the pub,
Left open by careless waitress, who was busy checking
Messages from her ex. The hall de-colourized to black-and-white,
As the game of lights shifted the room’s coziness to semi-darkness.
I used to drive by two-storey buildings
In old Chevrolet with automatic transmission.
And stare at pink-clad skies through the windows
Forgetting traffic lights that turn green at cross-road.
I was driving to my uncle’s house via
Orange Grove, thinking how the mountains of San Gabriel
Resemble the sun-burnt hills of our childhood, where
I saw you, not knowing what would soon become of us.