Sunday, October 28, 2007

Giving Space (Sunday Scribblings)

In a hospital
Empty corridors
Meet crowded alleys
Silence, death
Joy and birth
A world of contrast
Of pain and grief,

Some battles won
And others lost
By those who struggle
Those who quit
Those who fight
To breathe for one more night

And life’s put into question
Coz’ between
Exhaling and inhaling
Our planet counts
Another spin
With an untouched chapter
For which to start
And start again

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Friday, October 26, 2007

As High turns Low

By linlin (away) on Flickr

Is a button worth pressing… sometimes
So we can give ourselves time
To rethink the scheme
Appreciate silence

A load of fresh air
Embraced in my lungs
Comforts the mind
Where senses can meet
And vague uncertainty
Makes my heart beat faster

Like the incoming scene
Of an avant-garde movie
Emotionally packed
To make us aware
Of what we’d rather not know
And would prefer to let be

I chose not to fear
And neither to forget
That life is a novel
With pages of storing telling
And appreciating the sheets
Helps me write while I read

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Ocean Paths (Writers Island)

Image by cresk on Flickr
Water curls
Meeting land
Dancing waves
Bathe the sand
Moisten my toes
Wash my feet
While prints and trails
They gently sweep
Back and forth
Amongst the tides
A yellow moon
Its color shines
To a quiet world
Within the sea
Where secrets rest
And muteness sleeps
Is how I’ll tell my story
In a bottle
Cradled by currents
With destiny unmarked
Giving in to chance

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Saturday, October 13, 2007

Doing Something I Like (Sunday Scribblings)

I’ve only had one real job so far which is to teach English. I started teaching a little over three years ago and since then I’ve learned a lot about what it means to work with other people and experience a bit of each one’s universe. I guess one thing I could say about teaching is that, although the content may sometimes be the same, the way people react in a classroom environment can always take the most interesting turns and dealing with new situations all the time can really work against the boredom of routine. It’s a good job, but not my dream job. My dream job is music, piano music specifically and I recently made a big professional decision in order to make this dream job become my real job by giving up my English degree to be able to dedicate myself entirely to this study. Even though it’s a highly competitive market requiring dedication beyond limits, I feel that making good use of the one life I call my own by pouring myself in something I believe in might be my best shot at living a happy and meaningful life. As for my idea of a terrible job, I had a friend that went to Europe and spent a few months washing dishes in a French restaurant so he could raise some money to travel, and I thought to myself, “Europe is a fine place to be in, but I’d bore myself to death if I had to see dirty plates in front of me all day long.”
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Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Renewal - Writers Island

Image by macwright on Flickr

The key to reinvent
Is to forget what we know
What we think we know
And no longer mind

As if pressing the same buttons
Left our fingers numb
Like well constructed robots
Living auto-pilot lives

I choose for rubber instead
Erasing preconceptions
And disengaging filters
That made life seem so obvious

Leaves me full of doubt
Unfamiliar with the process
Of watching all come fresh
And though I give my best

I feel like a strange man
Living in a stranger world
As I try to recognize
All that’s seen for the first time


Saturday, October 6, 2007

Feeling Sorry – A Poem about War (Sunday Scribblings)

Image by *Gary* on Flickr
In a skipped beat
Of timeless pause
I saw the living
Unfold in shock

And shed a tear
For losing soul
On thorns too sharp
For hands to hold

Those whose hearts
Have soured up
With evil bliss
In mass destruct

They kill their own
With bubbling rage
Inspired by wounds
That cry for hate

Oppressing all
For fear of loss
Power and control
No matter the cost

Is what evolves
To make us shallow
Loveless and

I feel sorry for
Us humans
That seem to learn
The hard way

We just can’t see
That each of us
Has everyone else
On the inside

Should war
And killing
Be the meaning
Of one’s life?
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