Yellow Spring

 Tapping my hands, 

Tapping my hands, 

The click clacks,

And the Ticktocks.

Tapping my hands, 

Tapping my hands, 

With sighs and smiles,

Finally seen the miles.

Tapping my hands,

Tapping my hands, 

Roses and lilies we want,

It has grown with grand. 

Tapping my hands, 

Tapping my hands,

Jumping, soaring high,

Sight in hands and bloomed.

Tapping my hands, 

Tapping my hands, 

Yellow was mellow, 

Sunflowers in my hands, 

Tapping my hands, 

Tapping my hands, 

My heart is full, 

Daisies in Drool!

Tapping my hands, 

Tapping my hands, 

Birds of Paradise, 

Spring has come! Hold it nice!

Before Vernal Equinox

 The land has dried and cold,

The world seems hard and bold,

Precious lives and has been told, 

That bodies are trivial and old.

The world suffered and stopped,

Stopped to its tracked and watched, 

Countries were poked with shocked,

That a virus has skills to chill and kill.

Three years have passed, 

The world is still taken aback,

Recovery is still on hold,

In the stronghold of the world.

The spring will come,

Give it time, it'll be fine,

Life goes on and on, 

Abandon hurt and forlorn.

Wake with the sun up high,

Or with clouds in the sky,

The new season will come and speak, 

To our hearts that strong and meek.

Melodies and strings

Making melody in my heart

Has my passion grown apart,

Making melody in my heart, 

Woes and toes are made of art.

Making strings and lullabies,

Crooning to a baby song,

Making strings and lullabies, 

Has cried with bliss and tears.

Chest-filled laughter and fears, 

Only standing for the brave, 

As tones of the concave, 

Are for great melodies and strings.

Beers and Cheers

People were high!

Strangers do not sigh, 

Stars are brimming in the night sky.

The warm bonfires, 

Crackling wood that stood, 

In the middle of the vast woods.

Cheers can be heard, 

Over the sounds of  birds,

Beers and cheers are blurred!

Smiles and touch stay,

Cold drinks on display, 

Beers and cheers in the middle of the bay!

Memories fade,

Grew fonder with age, 

Beers and cheers can be of aid!

Painters of the Wind

Tiny wings flapped,

Periwinkle started to twinkle,

Giggling while they mingle,

Swooping and flying, 

Laughing and Cackling, 

A sight to behold,

Will it unfold?

Human eyes can't see,

The wind that comes with me,

Littles wings swooping,

Giving colors and soothing,

The wind was clear,

Only feel and hear,

The Colors will adhere.

These tiny hands and feet,

Seeing them is a feat,

These puny flyers with me, 

I will help you see,

The power and wonder, 

Their charm and cheer, 

The painters of the wind would be.

Pop! Pop!

It came floating in the sky,

The wind has given its might,

This has always been a sight,

Pop! Pop! Bubbles in the night.

The night was cold as ice,

Our breath was made of vapors,

With the cold air outside, 

Pop! Pop! Bubbles in the night.

The cheer! The Bliss!

From the innocent child,

Has made our hearts full,

Pop! Pop! Bubbles in the night. 

Coffee and Tea

Hearing the crashing sounds,

The flow of water and its warmth,

The aroma that hit the nostrils,

And the anticipation was a thrill.

You sat near the window and see,

Wishing that rain will seep and drip,

As if an addition to the cup you sip,

The flavor improves drastically.

The half cup was finished,

And the bushy hair that you wanted to see,

Finally arrived with sweat and a smile,

Oh boy! That was made sheepishly.

Your heart skipped for while,

He has ordered his usual tea,

Started talking with an impish grin,

Indeed this place is a canape.

What we drink may be acidic or bitter,

Or seemed ancient or back-numbered, 

But conversations are really sweet,

With a pair of coffee and tea. 

Birdcage

Flapped your wings and fly,

Do not waste your time and sigh,

As the blue and purple sky,

Was for us to make us wander and lie,

That the world was flat and dry.

This iron-clad prison,

Limited us from going in unison,

To work on a congress and see,

That outside is not as free,

The cage wants us to see that life outside is chancy.

Not everything we see is true,

Validated feelings are long overdue,

We have to witness what is true, 

For each life has value,

Yes! We are like a bayou.

Would you rather not see,

How an encaged bird will be,

If let out and free,

Thou small and slow at times,

What flow it can be?

Dried Flowers

Flowers have their own time to bloom,

Started as an ordinary shrub,

If the day was right,

If the sun was bright,

If the bees have gone by,

Its time will come,

To show the world,

That she has grown and bloomed.

In time, it has served lovers,

Families and churches,

Graves and parks,

It will leave its marks.

But beauty is not infinite, 

It can end, it can be withered,

No water, no minerals,

No sunshine, no rain,

Can stop this natural wonder?

Arid and weak, dried flowers we speak,

It has dull colors and seemed meek,

It has its unique beauty as we speak,

Though aged and parched, 

Dried flowers utter memories and hearts.

Unfair

Ignorant and carefree,

Happy and free,

Helpful and kind,

Is this why it's a Deja vu?

Blinded with a skin,

Glistening and attracting, 

The power took hold

Their advantage and fold.

Turned to the powerless, 

Fault and conspiracies,

Were from us, the weak,

We are the cause, we are to seek.

It's nasty and pungent, 

It fills the room with scent,

The scent that we despise,

The spice we're ready to vomit. 

My Love

Chasing cars and sunsets,

Hoping that what's missing will be seen,

And the walkway will be filled,

Filled with flowers; blooming and soothing.

My love has gone up and down,

    Had taken left and right,

    Spiraling and squared, 

    Yet, it has grown like grass without a bed.

We always wish for a "greener pasture", 

 Young love has that and that is all,

    My love has been rosy ignoring its thorn,

    That the love I have, had me burned.

Looking back, experience has its worth,

 Affection has different paths and routes,

    My love has taken directions that honed, 

A love you don't have is not something you can provide.

Sticks and stones

Scarred for life, for the age, it has started,

Young and naive, adults thought of reprieved,

Nobody's cognizant of the sticks and stones,

That has warped a child's mind and bones.

The world has developed but will it change?

    For a soul that has been broken,

    For a soul that has been pure,

        Will they make things happen?

For a lamb that has lost its way,

    Will it recognize the path it has to take?

        Can it change its way to be with the flock,

            Or stay and be mad that this has to be mocked?

The tears fallen and innocence destroyed, 

    Violence has taken over, people are annoyed,

        Violating others in exchange for pride,

        But still wondering why their nights are filled with fright.

        

Victims must make peace with their fear,

    That it will come but needs to be dealt with, 

        That the sticks and stones are now a myth,

And animate a world of happiness and gifts.

Life is a comedy

 I have heard and tried,

    That a smile can mean a cry,

        And cries can mean a cheer,

            And that life is quite queer.

Threading from left and right,

    And trying to do what's right,

    In the end, joy creeps at night,

     And so is sorrow and its feat.

Laughter has paraded its use,

    Some have gone and bemused,

        Reality hurts like thorns,

            But as long as the roses are born, 

                You can stay satire or mourn.

Life is a comedy,

That the audience has failed to see,

That darkness is needed for light,

 The stage we have called life. 

Your Perfume

 I have it around me;

Its traces on my pillows,

Or the clothes you previous worn,

Or the hat that has been torn. 

The magnetism it bears,

The scents that explode with wood,

Attracted to a desolate heart of good,

Your essence can change the mood.

Your endearing presence,

Which you unaware of, 

Has stirred a guarded soul,

Wondering when will it go?

FAKE

 There are times when intentions are pure,

    Time and effort for a better connection,

        Always giving, always fitting of motion, 

            But then ties were fragile and wasted.

You give your all, you give loyalty,

    As if you have the advantage of royalty,

        But royalties must not trust anyone easily,

            As everyone has schemes that hide resolutely. 

You have broken your heart many times,

    Once considered a friend but a competitor,

        Once considered like a family but a traitor,

    Must you hold unto the link that isn't a mirror?

        

  The people who mirror your passion and affection,

        They cross the oceans as you do with dedication,

            Desires were true and have an honest opinion, 

                That you much deserve such kind attention. 

Let your heart reside where your people are,

    Let go of the connections that have gone haywire,

        As happiness dwells in a pure relation and relation,

         A path with your own people and own nation.

The Child

 When I was a child, I wondered why I am not the same,

        The same as others who have food to enjoy and not accept,

            Like the ones who have so much but still felt something's lacking,

                Nonetheless, I always put a smile on my crummy face,

                    Despite the fact that I'm different, I am but to be kept.  

                I may have run to the mountains and seen what's in store for me.

                    Slide down from the mountains and green grass wounding the young me,

                        I have learned that going up has its toll and true promises,

                            Witheld the majestic view of the top and decided to keep it stored in my heart.

As a child, I smelled and felt the breeze of running outside, 

    The smiling faces and memories of my innocent friends, 

        The bawling and clamor of our wounded elbows and knees,

                Time passed, as to where, how, and what do we run for, now?

My heart has been ripped by the confused love and growing pains, 

    Bleeding inside and the child has covered with an iron fence,

        Protecting its delicate nature and  stainlessness,

            I have come to know how to treat my inner child with care.

I will now run for the mountains with hope and various dreams, 

    Without scaring the child of spurious joy and rejection,

        That it is okay not to possess what others possess, 

            That we're all unique, each doted with an exact purpose. 

Like The Rain

☝

 Those sweet smiles, sweet words, and sweet hugs,

    Stayed on my mind, like a sunset on the sea.

    Everyone adores you, therefore, everyone loves you.

       You were radiating in my eyes amicably.

My tears were falling like raindrops,

    You were there to wipe it with your delicate hands.

    You were there to give me cogent reassurance.

        That life may be hard but there's a purpose and it bonds.

The way I have liked the rain,

    You were pouring on with a sound that is comforting.

    You were like the rain clouds that brought smiles to my life,

        Rather than a warning that everything will be wet and dripping.

The sound of your voice was distinct, 

    Like the rain acquainted with a rolled thunderstorm, 

        It has encompassed me with warmth and jubilation,

            Knowing that a cup of coffee and rain is a perfect combination.

Life turns out to be fickle,

    It changes constantly, changing what once was so precious. 

    Like the rain that was relaxing and comforting,

    It became an ordinary drop of water filling the dry lands. 

Time passes by, and seemed so clear, 

    That the paths we must take, were on the roads so distant.

        We have threaded into a different life, 

            Like the rain that slowly stopped, as it felt cold and damped. 

Life is indeed unpredictable,

    Now, the rain is still comforting, nice, and soothing,

      That showered from the sky to give life and meaning,

           You have become the rain that has protected me from famine.

             

How people move

People sway their hips

    Making winds along the way with a strut

       People lift their hands

            Signaling a joyous sound of victory

                Or a sign of desperation and uncertainty.

People move their heads

    To ask, to clear, to disagree, too

        Agreeing is motioned with good sounds 

            Arguing is moved with anger and dread

                    People move the way they do.

Walking is bliss

     For someone who has the strength and drive

    Walking is cursed

        For the old, the sick, and the most blue.

People run for dreams

    Either they struggle and fight alone

        Making them a strong, big, stallion

            Or with the other people along

                The goal is clearly won.

                

The way a pet can make you feel

I see you linger in my dreams

    I still remember the subtle softness of your fur against my skin

    The way you reposition yourself to make yourself comfortable at my feet

    The way you waited for me to let you out and play and beams.

The heartbreak I felt when you passed away lingers

    My eyes go weary and teary without a warning

        I catch a break and dreaming 

            That in time I will meet you again.

Longing and love cannot stay true

    Without a physical or material elucidation

         With that, I picked up my paint brush and easel

            Pictured you out from my memory hoping it will make you happy.

       

I am but a JAR

I am but a JAR

    full of water;

        Too much heat makes it dissipate

        Too much cold makes it ICY

I am but a JAR

    Filled with liquid

        The liquid seeks its form

            but follows the shape of a vessel

I am but a JAR

    Can be teeming with water

        The properties of the sea

            It was blurred and Salty

I am but a JAR

    Brute strength can hurt me

        A tiny crack weakens me

            The fluid inside seeps out

                No longer trapped and free.  

       

FOR ME?

FOR ME?

by JobeInQuarantine

My heart ached for someone,

My chest's heavy for others,

Why can't I feel it for me?

Stumbling for the hungry,

Being strong for the weak,

Being bold for the meek,

Why can't I feel it for me?

I can see the blue sky,

From the window of white,

I marvel while the birds fly,

Are these emotions really for me?

They say it is not right, 

Do not do anything bright, 

Do not overshadow anyone with might,

Were all those really for me?