Author: poetryfest

that no one can take away from me.

I lost it in the rain, years ago

drunk on Broadway.

I miss you so much

it drove me crazy

it’s always raining.

I wanted to show you my new car

and I can still, remember your number…

I had a show box full of memories

but I lost it years ago

right after, you stopped breathing.

You’d like the car-

it’s a ’65 and it goes so fast!

It doesn’t have any seat belts

which would really freak you out.

I miss you so much, it hurts.

Your blood could have been blue

When you were cutting your wrist,

The sea would have flown into the river

And the cloud would have gone back to the rain

You were a collection of inner contradictions

With inflamed red vessels

And blue blood.

Talking with you was continuous,

When damn Iraqi tanks

Had moved on Sara’s doll

And you were not yet convinced that

Sara can breathe without her doll.

Your lips could have opened the door

Which some unrelated words have been poured outside of it

Or your eyes…

Your eyes could have been blue

To be hung behind the door

And stave off the danger.

Your left foot could have been behind my room,

Which does not know how to knock the door.

Or your hand…

Which you left its fingers between my fingers.

You are a collection of inner contradictions

That when you are nervous,

Your blood can be blue.

In my yout’…
Head down, workin’ dog like, frustration dammin’ grindstone so deep
I thought laughin’ was impossible…so many miles to go….sleep….well
Then a boss’s question was answered by me, “you see, Hose’ can’t.”
In a lick of a moment, my heart sparked a hope, nope, no, don’t ya don’t deserve it put yer head back down, as query two out of no…
Where an’ I answered so F’n boldly, quick like a squirrel up a tree. A rabbit down a hole, no, a jet zippin’ through the sky, “I’ll go” . “You’ll go?” “I’ll go.”
Then the pause of pauses my heart pumps like leopard on the hunt
The noise inside blows away the silence of the room and somethin’
Hears. “ok, you’ll go”.
Africa. Tanzania. Hotel. Taxi. Swim in the Indian Ocean. Ahh… Kenyan Crew; of two, cute young couple. Coolest Client ever. Puddle-jumper plane, postage stamp grass “airfield” in the brush. Offer of breakfast! (No, please…got to film!) No elephants, don’t care. Great shoot, great shots, wherever we turn. 3 yr old with a bicyle rim and a stick, rolling fun. Dawn, students sweeping the dust to clean the school “grounds” mixes with sunlight creating a magical mist causing gasps. Heavenly. Shower via water, bucket heated, then into a canvas bag upside down with a spout, best of my life.
A year later, Coolest friend ever, formerly coolest client…ever returns to the village and premiers “The Day The Lights Came on” in Ngarembe, Tanzania. Pure kind sweet joy laughter – jamboree as the citizens enjoyed each other on the screen… some their first movie ever. A dream to dream to see to plan to fly to do to enjoy to surprise, to love.

You’re altering my core,
Diminishing my fear and turning it into love like an alchemist.
Your gentle gaze and melting smile shines through endless dark and
stormy nights.
Your wise and tender words work way beyond the intellectual mind.
Science and research are the building blocks and touchstones for you to
reach the brain and heart,
You invigorate every molecule of the soul.
You are the very essence of loving-kindness,
The positive pull we so desperately need.
Awakens every lost attempt to love and be loved.

Pushing through these feelings,
Pulling me from your existence.
Letting go and moving on,
Moving forward and coming back on.

What is passion?
You are only in my mind.
When too much desire,
Breaking me apart every time.
Who to adhere?
You are not here.
Where to begin?
No moment to be seen.

Our love is like a poison,
Breaking us into pieces.
Slowly turning in to serum,
Of promises and illusions.
You are my addiction,
Healing my intention.

But we have this strong connection,
Drawing each other like magnet in both directions,
Pulling in and out with discretion,
Now in doubt for any solution.

How to stop from this obsession?
You wear me out in collision.
Tired of this tireless conjunction,
Thinking to begin halting the passion.
Still afraid living in oblivion.

I am with myself with you,
Not so great without you.
We both know this is not a great move,
For loving you no one will approve.

Maybe this is not a time for the both of us,
See you next lifetime is what I always say to the both of us.
Everything is now laid blocked,
Fate is sealed and locked.

What to say?
We exist in disarray.
Finding what we cannot lay,
Both of us feeling dismay.

Earth and water grow trees below the world up high;
As the day’s end combines air and fire in the sky…

I painted you years ago in complementary hues
Your warm orange sunset and cool trees of blue

No matter the season you always had warm weather
But even in the heat there was an oasis in the desert

Long ago I named you “Sunset with Blue Trees”
Many years later you began sprouting new leaves

I have never gone travelling without a camera in my hand
Documenting all my adventures on a far away land

I remember my former supervisor used to say
The locals see less in their lifetime than I see in one day

A friend of mine began to see new light in his city
After seeing what I see through my photography

He thanked me for showing him the world through fresh eyes
And encouraged me to do more back home as we bid goodbye

Moving into the year two thousand and twenty
I feel I have gained new insight and clarity

Now every time I see a beautiful sunrise
I remember to see the world through fresh eyes

© Copyright Mui-Ling Teh

Mui-Ling Teh – Art | Photography | Poetry | Miniature Origami
https://muiling.com/

[So, it began like]

So, it began like
I have a dream of the
perfect, lovely evening.

So, it began like
Well, hello.
Is this seat taken?

So, it began like
Why it’s for you.
—Thanks—smiling.

So, it began like
I’m looking
forward to
seeing The
Little Shop
of Horrors.
—So am I.

So, it began like
Boy, looks like you
really work out.

So, it began like
Yea, it’s an obsession
with me.

So, it began like
I wish I had such
a problem.

So, it began like
It looks like you’re
quite fit yourself.

So, it began like
I swim, almost
a meditative ritual.

So, it began like
—during intermission—
What’s your drink?
—I’ll have whatever
you’re having.

So, it began like
Vodka tonic with
a splash of grenadine.
—Fine by me.

So, it began like
—later—
stars bursting across
the galaxies—
I don’t live far
from here—I
don’t know why
that popped out of
my mouth.

So, it began like
No worry, I’d like
other things touching
that perfect mouth.

So, it began like
Let’s go
and I’ll make
you a double
at home.

So, it began like
Fine by me.
—eight hours later—
I say: Stay for
French toast.

So, it began like
Well, I could
just stay . . .

So, it began like
Fine by me.
—now twenty-seven
years and counting . . .

Too Early, Too Soon

Green drapes blocked her view.
First cries weren’t heard,
but the chills told her
a part of her was taken
too early, too soon.

Even body-numbed,
the chills came fierce,
coldest inside her
because her 28-week guest
was out
too early, too soon.

The chills a rite of passage,
tearing the veil
between woman and mother.
Crossing that line, no turning back.
Mama’s first
too early, too soon.

Another human,
raw and tiny,
living and fighting in a bright, cold world.
Damn the disease that wrung him
from Mama
too early, too soon.

Where was her prize for passage?
Wrapped in plastic and whisked out
in a box by robed strangers.
Covered faces and pinched eyes
fixing Mama
too early, too soon.

The chills rocked Mama.
Careful strangers covered her arms.
Mama smiled and held still.
The lifetime of pretense had started.
Too-chill Mama
too early, too soon.

stick your tongue out, by Pavel Frolov

what if wearing masks is worse than
isolation
an entire generation short of social
cues

and what if everyone is making a
face
underneath their mask, like a
silly weird crazy
grimace
stretching lips showing
teeth

sticking out your
tongue
means different things in different
cultures
agreement and respect, or
rudeness and disgust, or a sexual
provocation

non-verbal communication
with eyes and eyebrows
gives your forehead
wrinkles