Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Poem for Portrait of Dr. Gachet drawn by Van Gogh.




Dear lad, waiting for love?
The purple petals droop
to where your frail lonely body stoops.
Love lost, love forlorn.

Dear lad, waiting for youth?
The faded coat collar furled
angwish lips tightly curled.
Youth lost, youth by gone.

Dear lad, waiting for death?
Darkest in the heart as blue invades,
deeply reflected by the hallow eyes.
Death will come, to end live's misery.




Speaker: one of the lookers.
Audience: the lonely old man in the painting.
Message:sadness/hopeless.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

What is love?




Love is like the warmth of the sun;
Radiating rivers of energy to all growing things.
Sweet joy, childlike hope,
The central source of human existence;
Committed to provide each day.

Love is like candies.
Sugar coated, colourful poisons.
Impractical, unhealthy, and expirable;
The rush of wild satisfaction,
Comes the painful aches, restlessness and regrets.

Love is like the sky.
Open and vast, deep and wide.
It envelopes you into its magical height.
A surprise rainbow after the storm;
A convenant of unconditional giving.

Love is like a dream.
Untouchable, uncontrollable, non-existent.
A reminiscent of the past,
But no guarantee of the future.
An ending nobody can foresee.