Poem: Poets' Sleep

Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn

before they pour down on these pages

I strive to make my thoughts comprehensible

yet sleep captures me; into a dream I flee every time

silence – a familiar friend – accompanies

the feet of a wanderer

muse has been throwing rocks at my window

broken glass lays scattered

showing skulls of people lost forever

like my voice immersed in these poems

words captured together forming skeletons of ideas

who will recite them and hear me?

nonetheless, my journey through the fields

of imagination is a passion I don't question

I will be returning to them

until death infuses my flesh

- and even after, my spirit wishes

to haunt these skeletons it created

*

Written as a poetry prompt Mag #208.

Poem: Crestfallen

what if it were us

crestfallen in a semi-ruined city

observing our fragile lives collide

lost the instructions on how to be human

burying chances which could've made a difference

how many times have we been here before?

roaming the abandoned valleys

a collection of dismal smiles

haunts the stones that once made a home

those hours shared under the roof

future contains possibilities

of our unwritten stories we hold inside

for doubt eats them raw

and we fear what our words might initiate

if the dust of the universe is ever-present

then why aren't our building blocks stronger?

*

Poem: To hear you breathe

Photo of a postcard that was on a calendar.

in silence I awake, like thousand times before

conversations I keep unfolding with made-up faces

storms we create with stories we tell ourselves

the truth we find to be ice cold and lies covering like dust

we fail to keep the magic locked up

it disappears as if someone was shooting arrows at it

human voice becomes fragile against the tide of time

through a frozen forest I can still hear an echo of your voice

despite the deafening silence separating us

so lost and forgotten, yet it brings back the memories

of your touch, that sweet burning of the cheeks

I'd chase the starlight to hear you breathe

it's enough to stop the world spinning

the breath of life, which clings to us

we sell it for less or worship it for more

until we stumble and we fall

against that endless space between

*

Poem: Flying towards infinity

trees are monsters when one treads in the darkness

I tried to reach you, but there was only an illustrious fog

queen of the night glowing, creating a dream-like scenery

the ocean before me all familiar, but it tastes somewhat more ripe

and I stopped, despite the fact that I haven't reached my destination

my eyes drawn to the walking stick left behind

its' owner went away on a final departure, like a falling star

we each take the life we were given, try to make it our own

fill it with days when we're flying towards infinity

that everlasting light flickering somewhere we can't see

but the yearning to find it comes deep from the ribs

*