He saw her in blue denim
Her hair was unkempt
And the clouds were above her
In a desperate attempt
To hide from plain sight
The elusive golden light
That he saw in her eyes, the scars she had tried
To conceal in vain, whenever she smiled.

There was nothing but words
That he couldn’t quite give her
But she easily affords
To freely give strangers
Over and over, how she knocks his world
Sometimes in silence, leaving him in the cold.
Often she writes, while refusing to reveal
The choices she makes between imaginary and real.

The dreamy sunset scene
Was her place of romance,
And the signal sounds of spring
Was the tune to her dance.
She’s too difficult to love, she warns
And every time, he nestles her back to his arms.
What is in her that he keeps coming back to,
When loving her only splits him into two?

Always he gets stuck in the mess
Of her sensitive heart and mind full of chaos;
He ventures into her maze of thick-walled defenses
In search of what he knows have an unreasonable cause.
She cries like a child over every small thing,
And the constant emptiness he felt helpless in refilling,
Yet, she pours out like rain, gushes like the tides
There’s no one to stop her, not her pain nor their lies.

Whenever her kisses come,
A meteor shower visits town
He only wishes he could save some
To give her when she’s feeling down.
How to start giving to a girl who loses things;
How to add to someone who has a bit of everything?
Like some good and some bad, she takes ample amounts;
It breaks her vessel up, spilling contents on the ground.

She can shatter his dreams while letting him watch
Piece it together, she can build it from scratch
He can’t remember a time that she hadn’t been there,
Even his childhood memories were heavily altered;
She was the kite he chased, his collection of spiders,
The lost plastic soldiers, or the lego blocks scattered.
He frees her and takes her; he dies and he lives,
But always, she is his for as long as he believes.


check more poems at theprose.com/poeticasymptote
check my new poetry book at tinyurl.com/missing-lines


Midnight Guests

Strangers exchanging glances
Everywhere, each conversation
They remind me which ones lost
Then, and the ones that returned

I hear mourning and delight
In the altered tone of voices
They keep clarity to a minimum
Only a few can hold a stare
There’s quite a number there
Hearts getting number and number
Overused greetings always sounding similar
Never getting quite past familiar lines
They speak slow, to help me understand
They speak fast, hoping there’s enough time

Strangers here again wanting to try
The road is spent, the rivers dry
They come as guests during quiet hours
When they start charging on the iron bars 
So many words to say, in between
Still undecided where to begin
One begs for water, he looked drenched
One asks for bread, I thought she’s long dead
Where did they all go after saying hello?
Yet, they all refuse to let me go

Strangers live in dreams
Nameless faces, shadowless
All wanting to escape the night
May rest find their souls as I watch
Disintegrating moments, again come to pass
Always seeking for something, the crowd
I was being passed into each scene unharmed
But they keep talking, demanding
I should know their story, they say
They’re strangers but they’re here to stay

See more at theprose.com/poeticasymptote

Words Are Important (Anecdote)

Let’s talk about presents.

Five days before Christmas. My son is just waiting to open his presents on Saturday. My husband has already opened (and has been using) his present for weeks now. I happen to be the hardest to give a present to.

Not too long ago…
Dale: Do you know what a keytar is?
Me: What is it?
Dale: Keytar stands for KEYboard-guiTAR. It’s a—
Me: Abomination.
Dale: You’ll like it. I’ll show you a video. It can be—
Me: Nope, not interested. ***end of discussion***

One month later…
Dale: There’s a Rockband 3 Piano for Wii! It works on Wii U.
Me: Really?
Dale: It’s portable. You can carry it like a guitar. Look at it. (he googles on his phone and shows me the video)
Me: Is that my Christmas present?
Dale: I’ll buy it for you.

A few days later…
Me: You tricked me!
Me: I just remembered what word you googled. It suddenly flashed in my memory. You googled KEYTAR!
Dale: (nervous laugh) Heeheehee.

Dale: I’ll get your gift tomorrow.
Me: You’ve outsmarted me. You’re giving me a keytar.
Dale: It’s ROCKBAND 3 PIANO. The label says so.
Me: You know very well it’s a keytar you googled.
Dale: I’ll add a mic to go with it.

You see, my man outsmarted me. And yes, the right phrasing matters. LOL.

Advanced Merry Christmas, everyone!

Free Poems in Missing Lines

Every now and then, I make a poem free for viewing from the poetry book Missing Lines. Check it out every now and then for updates.

Previously, the free poem was “Last” (from Section II). It is no longer free to give way for the new free poem  A Child’s Dream (from Section II)

The following poems are always free:
“Seed” (from Section IV)
“Water Line” (from Section V) – this is my favorite 🙂
“Shadow Of A Ghost” (from Section VII)

View the book here: theprose.com/book/563/missing-lines.