Carvers and Hulahoops

she says hey no laughing

but she feels them quickly carving

little words onto the backs

of chairs that tread on seas black

gold and silver white trees

are dancing in their eyes and then she sees

the deepness of their feelings

and the softness of their concealing

their coats are fur and ragged teens

are seething in their collars

who are these beings

who are they? who are they?

she asks and asks again

but no one answers

no one can

she tries to speak but then her throat

it’s caught it’s hoarse her voice is but an empty threat

the stars upon the brows of those

she once only lived in terror of

were shining now with hulahoops

of brand-new hope and daydream

there was hope still yet in her own head

but no one had ears to listen

so she told herself and told her mind

and though she didn't understand

she praised herself and believed she did

a good job and that when her voice returned

she would feel the same again

Lovesong for Spring

For season that gives bless’ed days in light,

Your comely looks will ever leave the shore;

For you a snowdrop land out for delight,

I wait and yearn for honeyed sound: amour.

Oh budding youth and binding honest smells,

No bird nor figure did evoke my mind;

Your sweet, your caprice tale in spring we tell,

Your dream of slumber wrote for me designed.

For you bloom lily, iris, rose with charm,

That dance, that laugh and soothe red eyes so sore;

So arrows cushion frays within your arms!

Complete devotion of my heart to yours.

By you my lonely heart shall be adored,

Go onwards, so our journey upwards soars.

Sweetness

I glanced at birds that set away

The dreary night that ended day.

Whence came sweetness?

By February bless?

The roses and lilies are clad in fair dress.

whims

here is a short poem i wrote inspired by the ever-brilliant mr. j.r.r. tolkien

the night is now upon us,

and the stars are shining dim;

the dark is full of shadows,

oh, but dark is but a whim!

it will pass, it will go.

so be light here in place:

always, never going,

never rivalled –

never.

Division

the saddest thing is division – for we are all the same, as we always have been, and will always be. where has the need for superiority come about? it has come from pride. and from there has come a desire for false glory, through war and death and murder and violence – it is all false. there is no glory but in goodness, kindness, humbleness, happiness – there is none of that to be found in those times. of course a being may believe in good intentions, and may have them...but it all is done wrongly and unkindly. that is enough to support this. unkindness is never welcome. there is no need for war. what do you gain from it? land? oil? money? what is all that compared to the loss of human life, whether physically, in mind or in heart?

Karen Ng

Breathing

From the day you are born, you breathe.

You are breathing.

It slowly became a habit.

You didn’t realise.

Breathing seems so easy when you don’t think about it.

Think about it. You are breathing.

Are you breathing more heavily? Perhaps you are. Perhaps you aren’t. Perhaps you only feel as though you are.

You may think that after a while, you will lose interest in it and stop.

You may think you will stop breathing.

And you will. But not for a long while, and not of vain or of your own hands.

You must always want to keep breathing.

Unless you are immortal. Perhaps you are elven, and you have lived in Valinor for more centuries than the numbers can count to.

You must think of all who would miss you if you stopped.

Do you realise?

You are breathing.

If ever there comes a time when you tire, remember of all that good you can still do for the world, for all the beings who live upon it, for yourself.

And know that you are never alone.

At least two beings love you.

You may not have met them, or even know who they are.

But they love you.

And there is me.

I love you.

I will always.

And so.

You must keep going.

You are breathing.

You are still breathing.

Well done. You have done well. Perhaps you think you have not and that I am not speaking to you. Perhaps you believe I speak to one behind you.

I am speaking to you.

You, reading this, hearing this, knowing this, realising –

You mustn’t stop.

Not yet.

Not until you are done.

When are you done, you ask?

You will know.

But perhaps, perhaps it is not now.

Ask yourself if there is still time left for you to better the world, its beings and yourself.

If you are unsure...

Ask me.

You are breathing.

Know that first.

There are those who love you.

Know that too.