Arleen's Poem

Monday, May 22, 2006

One of These moments

One of these seconds
I’ll find myself thinking about you
One of these minutes
You’ll slip a beautiful dream under my pillow
One of these hours
I’ll find myself smiling at your photograph
One of these days
You voice will infuse new wonderful hopes into my days
One of these weeks
I’ll bore my friends to death with stories of you
One of these months
I’ll find myself holding you never want to let go
One of these years
I’ll be sharing the rest of forever with you
One of these lives
Is the best one could ever ask for …
And you gave it to me

7 March 96

I knocked at your door

I knocked at your door
Several times in the past
There was no answer
Maybe you pretended not to hear
But I pretended you did not hear
You came over several times
With a well protected wall
I can’t possibly see through
One meaningful nod is all I need
Till then …
I won’t come knocking again

6 March 96

Friday, May 19, 2006

Strains of Hopes

Especially written for my friend, N.

We found each other at once junction
At one point of time in the past
And we chose to take the same road forward

Whose fault is it
If the road happened to be the wrong one?
Who knows that
It was going to split into two,
Separated by a high glass wall in between?

And then you wouldn’t let me walk with you
On your side of the world
“It’s too risky,” that’s the way you put it

what’s more risky than never able to reach you again?

And now…
Each time you drop a single strain of hope
I’ll be there to catch it with both of my hands
And when you turn to find no one around
Be sure to see me
‘cause I’ll wait for you at every corner
But if our life-paths never cross again
How am I supposed to go about living my life?

Feb 1996

During a brief episode of my life

Without reason
Without intention
From nowhere, you glided through my life
And made a world of a difference

You passed an innocent smile
And I passed a wishful hope
Which was somehow lost somewhere in between

In no time
You would be out of my sight again
But in all time
I would keep traces of you in my life
Only because you were there
And colored a brief episode of my life

16 Feb 1996

Tuesday, May 16, 2006


Especially for you …

Maybe I was not sure where home is
But now I know that it is not a geographical location on earth
It is neither a country … nor a city …
Wherever you are … that’s home to me
And every second that passes …
Brings me closer to where I belong …
I’m going home … to you

10 Feb 1996

Like water and soap bubble

Watching streams of water choosing their routes
Among so many interlocking canals
Formed by patterns on the tiles
So decisive in each intersection
So persistent in each junction
Never stop to hesitate

Looking at soap bubbles floating confidently in the air
Each one knowing when exactly to burst
“pop”, disappearing into thin air at the exact moment
never too early,
never too late

how I wish I’ like a stream of water
so decisive in each intersection
so confident in each junction

how I wish I can be like a soap bubble
knowing exactly what to do
knowing exactly when to stop

8 Jan 1996

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Some Say Love

Some say love is the reason
Because it stands behind all cause
Some say love is the result
For it is the fruit of actions and feelings

Some say love is joy
Since it brings much more than you can hope for
Some say love is a droplet of tear
Because it sometimes makes you regret being born

Some say love is uncertainty
For it comes and goes as streams of confusions
Some say love is the pillar to rely on
Since it is the only thing you want to hold on to

Some say love is the guiding light
Because it gives purpose that makes you go on
Some say love is the poison pill
For it may make you lie and hang on to someone else’s dreams

I say love is everything
Since nothing else can make this life worth living

November 1995


Especially written for my heartbroken friend ...

Sometimes the world seems cruel and full of sorrow …
And you feel that you’ve lost all you’ve once found
But be sure to know that tomorrow …
Is a different day with sweetness of its own

Cause life exists with a million textures …
Each day, each second is filled with something new
And when you give the time a chance to cure …
All the sweetness will come running back to you

October 1995

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Painting a Dream of My Own

When a marching band progresses in a rhythmic procession …
Space are transparent and times are predictable …
And I’m just a mindless body passing through in space and time

When a letter-filled bottle is thrown into an ocean …
Spaces become gray and times surprising …
And I’m just a hopeful slave with a wishful mind

But when a baby bird flies for the first time across nations …
Spaces are hideous and times are cruel …
And I become a bodiless mind soaring through my own space and time

It is then, and only then, I will know whats and whys …
And I will seek to find the days of painting a lifelong dream of myown

March 1995

My World

Sunlight breaks through my bedroom window …
Making me aware of the world outside …

Meandering river giving life to its surroundings
Interlocking hills sharing their peace
Soaring ocean waves teasing the white sand on the beach
Green grass heavy with morning mist
Small children chasing flying kites
One of which falls near my bedroom window
Breaking my streams of dreamful thoughts

Then a sudden rush of realization …
That in one dark corner
People are killing each other
In a game called war

March 1995

An Ant in a Balloon

Freedom …
Space …
Time …
I have them all

Seeing everything
Walking everywhere

All the paths have always been smooth
All the roads have always been wide

Never once a hurdle
Never once a barrier
Never once I find someone …
Who dares to intervene

After all …
I am the mightiest …
… that exist

March 1995

On the brim of sanity

…traveling along the edge
heading towards the vague horizon …
tasting the blue and the red …
… the yellow, the grey and the green
counting dews on the grasses …
getting queens but never aces …
… strolling, wheeling, rolling and stumbling …
as if this walk is never-ending …

March 1995