what does it mean
to say good-bye
twice in a week
every step
leaves behind
a trail
for the tears
to water the flowers
that once have blossomed
a neighbour left
on Friday
another colleague left
3 hours ago
when every boat
has sailed away
when the sun has dropped
beneath the evening line
and even the moon
has not slept in the night
with sunken eyes
will someday say
the final
good-byes
one, a neighbour, the other, a colleague, who passed away on the same week
a garden frog
bewitched by the harvest moon,
a sculpture
resting on a moistened rock
echoing familiar songs
from a forgotten well
Hilda found this poem i gave her before i left Nagoya and she sent it to me to have it it included. it comes with an analysis: the garden frog is a symbol of the 'at-homeness' we ought to be acquainted with in life, the harvest moon symbolises recurring hope - a certainty of the days to come, the word 'sculpture' encapsulates the state of rest and stillness which anchored itself onto the moistened rock - the element that speaks of things which are both firm and refreshing; and the last two lines refer to the reflection of the beauty of the past, and the present, a reminiscence to be kept for the future.
i am a pink man
walking down the street
passing by an ice-cream seller
bidding me to choose a flavour
i tell him
"i'm a pink man
walking down the street
nothing in my mind
with no intention to buy"
he looks down
and tries to hide his frown
I can see it now
because i'm a pink man
it's not easy to make a living
with melting ice-cream
perspiring ice box
crying out for rest
he says
"i'm a boy
making a living
i know no pink
my sky is grey
mr pink man
won't you choose a flavour
from me"
"give me a pink
the flavour that i like
because i'm a pink man
walking down the street"
inspired by a man in pink who took the same lift
