Sunday, May 25, 2008


Without you, everyday is sorrow
A single drop of tear
I yearn to be healed, removed from this pain
Truth taunts me
I recall those memories, the ones with me and you
Not forgotten, but vivid
Given happiness, thrown away

Forgive me for the path I chose
Often I pretend that you’re still here with me
Refusing to come to my senses

Yet a sense of reality never fades
Over again I repeat
Us, is not a word for me or for you

Friday, May 23, 2008

Thank You

You picked me up,
When I was down,
Thank you.

You made me smile,
When I was sad,
Thank you.

You listened to me,
When I was angry,
Thank you.

You shared with me,
When I was lonely,
Thank you.

You stood up for me,
When I was hurt,
Thank you.

I hope this poem will speak for me,
I hope this poem will let you know, what you mean to me.
Thank you.

The Factors Of Friendship

Loving and caring...
You let me know, that I'm protected

Listening and appreciating...
You make me feel, that I'm important

Laughing and smiling...
You show me how to be happy

Supporting and sharing...
You're one hell of a great friend

My Dear Friend

Two strangers walking in the world,

on opposite sides of the Earth

Met one day and ever since,

Been good friends…

My dear friend, today,

I want to say to you how much you mean to me.

I want to say that without you,

I would be lost



My dear friend, today,

I want to say thank you… what you have done,

listening to my complaints and problems

even though they bore you…


You listen.

thank you

thank you

thank you…

My dear friend, today,

I want to say I love you, because you have always cared.

Whether I was happy, sad, lonely, hurt or just being me,

You came and we shared the moments together...

I love you

I love you

I love you…

When you’re around me, I feel like the sun

Shining so brightly,

When you’re smiling, I feel warmth-

it reminds me of our friendship

I’m just SO glad I met you

Global Warming - Protest

A lone survivor from the town
Whose weather-beaten roof
Was the only dry land seen for miles.
Lips chapped,
Skin splintered,
His words were incoherent.
Our medical supplies diminish
Water, water everywhere.
Yet we have dehydrating patients everywhere.
Towering waves of people roll in.
With dazed eyes,
And loved ones missing.

In Phuket, nature rages its war against us,
For humankind has long begun this destruction.

A lone survivor from the town
Who hides under his fallen weather-beaten roof.
In a street full of debris
And skeletons of houses.
Cuts bleeding,
Glass lodged in his knee,
Ribs broken from a fallen tree,
The gale-force wind drowns out his screams.
Our bread supplies diminish
Tension in the air
As robbers find treasure
In unguarded homes.
Currents of people flow in
With anguished looks
And relatives missing.

In New Orleanss, nature rages its war against us.
For humankind has long begun this destruction.


Sitting gloriously on the wall,

The fan recounts its family’s bloodline.

Esteemed doctors tending to the Emperor,

Arranged marriages of nobility,

Bearing heirs to secure its longevity.

Alas, a daughter is born,

This wicked child,

From the Devil,

Bringing an end to their royal name.

It is the beginning of the end.

A line of daughters

Bankrupts the wealth

In paying for their dowry.

The fan is a reminder

Of lost royalty.


Out in the park on a warm summer's day
Family love, fanning each other
Basking in the sun
No danger
Clouds roll in
The clouds look angry
Animals panic
Danger ahead
Warning signs were given
Deaf to one's ears
Repetition to the boy who cried wolf
Of the passing weeks
In a sudden there's a tremble
Pace increasing
Family panics
No place to run or hide
Buildings crash down
The road splits in two
Debris rains down
Killing thousands in Kanto
Brave, the father shelters his family
A sacrifice
His children and his wife
Sheltered by his own flesh and blood

The bombing

The baby reaches up to touch
The fan on the toy mobile
Grasping the fan, the baby giggles.
It stretches for its mother for a cuddle.

The bomb that killed Sadako intrudes.

The invisible force litters streets with rubble.
And corpses.
And the little fan.
And the scraps of a pram.


Rats run a rampage
Lice causes havoc
Gunfire sound in the distance
As the men in khaki
Try to lead a normal existence.

Objects keep them alive,
A portrait of their love,
The fan of his wife.
He sniffs the faint hint of perfume,
The only sense of home
When his future is unknown.

The whistle blows
Men go over the top
Enemy's bullet fire
One by one they drop.

The whistle blows again
Time to retreat
His treasure is dropped in the confusion.
Ignoring the orders,
He runs into no man's land.
A bullet is dislodged in his lungs,
Dropping the fan onto the muddy quagmire.

She receives a telegram
And a box
With last month's letter
And a shattered fan.

Conditions Apply

A windowless room

Dim lighting

Machines in rows

Humming buzz

The women sew.

Materials askew

In frenzy

Threads spin

Scissors manoeuvre

Shapes of fans

Of every colour.

Officer walks

Through straight aisles

Heads bent down

Eyes averted.


Everyone looks up

A woman falls

She was sleeping.

A month’s wage

Taken from her

The single mother

Feeding her kids

And her mother.

At her limit

In fury

She protests,

Tears streaming down.

The officer walks

Ignoring her;

The women stand.

A workers’ strike…


Higher wages

Better working conditions

Less working hours…

And reinstall wages.

A Woven Tale

A phoenix to bring longevity,

The swan to bless us with luck,

A lotus flower to symbolise harmony,

The women work their magic.

As these symbols appear on the silken cloth

They work with speed and precision.

The men are spellbound

By the skill and beauty of the women

As they embroider the winning fan.

Disgraced by her incompetence,

Beauty she is, but skill she lacks.

She hears the whispers behind her,

Of why the mayor’s daughter is absent form the stage.

She imagines her father’s shame,

Because she is unable to join the game.

The crowds’ murmur starts to buzz

As the women reveal their silken glory.

The sun comes out

And shines on the woven collection.

How beautiful they look!

Glimmering in the sunshine.

Everyone is quiet, waiting for the announcement

Who will be crowned this year’s embroider?

Overwhelmed by emotion,

She turns back through the crowd, with new determination arising within her.

She must be the winner in the forthcoming year!


Water wipes off the mask.
She is done,
Flowers of admirers surround her.
Knocks on the door are ignored.
She is the best but,
She is an enigma.

The lights dazzle.
She waves her fan around in a dance,
Bewildered eyes follow every motion.
In triumph she enters the shared room,
Leaving their shared stage.

Confronting the unmasked beauty,
There can only be one leading.
A showdown is programmed
For the night after tomorrow.

Curtains up.
Only one will be left standing.
The beauty flies over the crowd.
Now is her chance.
A rope is cut.


You must follow your husband,

For richer or poorer...

A mother’s promise must be kept.

Silently the peasant woman crept through the darkness,

A darkness which embodied her existence.

A woman’s duty must be carried out,

Living under the rule of her husband,

She toils the fields,

She makes every meal,

She bears his sons.

Another day, another meal.

Black smoke engulfs the humble surroundings.

Chocking and spluttering,

She absent-mindedly fans the coal.

Tears mix with her coal-blackened face

As she weeps of her captivity.

She carries the inherited woven fan of her grandmother

A treasure from her mother.

Reminding her that a mother’s promise must be kept.

Women must uphold the family’s pride

However, she lives like a bird in a cage,

Longing to fly back home to her mother’s nest.

Knowing that she must forget this intangible dream,

She washes the clothes.

She tidies the hut.

She awaits her husband’s return.

Mistaken Identity

Make way! Make way!

A lady is coming.

Prepare for her arrival,

Open the doors!

Make her welcome!

A crowd gathers for the jamboree

Her carriage is coming, see!

The stallions halt at the gate

The lady is stepping down. Please wait!

Dressed in the finest lace,

A jewelled fan hides her face.

The crowd is silenced by her presence,

As she moves into the residence.

The glimmering fan is slowly lowered,

In which the crowd now glowered.

Behind that fan was a face that spelt ‘traitor’

Divulged an evil grin and said, ‘I am the victor’.

This traitor has cheated and bribed,

But soon fled so she was never tried.

She mocks the anger on their faces

As she departs once more without leaving any traces.

The inevitable

A scrawny, tattered girl hunched over in the corner.

The merry-making dazzling her eyes.
The bittersweet tea pours from an ornate teapot,
Held by the delicate hands of a masked face,
A geisha.

As soft as a raven's feather,
Her ebony hair sways with her every movement.
The richly-embroidered silken fan disguises the fear in her eyes.

The unacquainted girl gazes at her sister's extravagant attire.

Her thin frame is outlined by a chiffon kimono,
Swans, sakuras, saffrons embellish the silken garment.
The scene reflects her own despairing future.
A drunken man grabs a maiden.
And takes her into the distance.

The same fate smiles at her sister.