"Answers (And More Questions) From The Lover"

Kind Sir, you would not have asked me such things
If you have yourself in the Valley parched;
But my burdens were fastened on saintly wings
When all my eyes could see were dead souls that marched.


If I were a Knight who gallantly slays,
My deeds would have been told—no, I've seen my days
Through the baptism of utmost Betrayal
From heartbreak of death that drank wine from gall!


And what of my service before comrades and lords?
If love summons, would you not die by blade or quill
(You may not find courage now, but then you will)—
To meet lies with Truth with no thought of rewards?


I bear no secret that has not been revealed—
Unless streams can return to brooks they flow wherefrom!
Do you still suspect I have a pouch concealed?
Hear now: Joy may wane and Love bereave; Hope will come.

"Questions To A Lover"

Dear Poet, you are not a sonneteer by trade,
But by the way you love you might as well be;
Your love is hidden in the swift Everglade,
Away from fading eyes that are not meant to see.


Do you want to tell the world how you worshipped,
Of the distance you travelled just true love to taste?
But the world is not prepared for a love so chaste
And a bedtime story in such sorrow dipped.


How did you do it?—tirelessly you seemed to rise
From culminating deaths that attacked by night,
When food and spirit were ever low in supplies—
This cannot be, but are you also a Knight?


Was there a lost secret we do not know of
That kept you in the battlefield and the king's court?
Tell us now, even of a haven thereof;
Have your eyes seen the city of gold?—love's Free Port!

"What I Have Left To Live For"

What I have left to live for
Since you're gone
Is just the memories of your warmth
That passed through my hands,
My arms, my body;
What I have left to live for
Now that I'm all alone
Is just the ghost of your smile
Lighting up the dark corners of this room.


What I have left to live for
Everyday since you left
Is to stand on the street we used to walk,
Hoping you would suddenly appear
The next time I look up;
What I have left to live for
Cannot fill up the hole you left
When you took my heart away
In the deep of an unfinished refrain.


I could pretend that nothing happened
When someone asks me about you,
Saying you're just a fleeting romance.
But if my heart had a say,
Knowing what's true,
It would cry out your name again and again
Till it breaks into a million shattered pieces...


What I have left to live for
Now and evermore
May not be quite the same as before;
What I have left to live for,
Unless you reappear at my door,
Would be all that I draw each breath for.

"I Take A Walk Outside"

I take a walk outside
And wish you by my side.
Nothing seems as gray
As when you're far away.


Come back into my dreams
And mend their broken seams.
Long before robins sing
You're my first hint of spring.

Story of my life (crescendo)

This has got to be the strangest thing that has happened to me in years. Recently I noticed I've recovered some of the things I stopped doing or experiencing.

I was done with it a long time ago but lately I began to search the vast blue sky and exhale lento. What was that! The last time I did that I still had a whole heart to rend on the altar of life...

And I began to be afraid again. Really afraid. Suddenly there's something in life that I'm afraid I might lose...

But strangest of all, I've totally detached myself from all the past grievances that I ever visited... I stepped out the door one day only to hear birdsongs and feel the sun's warmth on my face.

I found the source of my newfound joy in the most unusual place. I want to let the world know the reason I'm happy but for now I'm content that my reason already knows.

"One Week"

Strange that a fire kindled my heart,
And it has been one week since;
Across terrains my soul did chart—
O heart, hail to Love's crown Prince!

"Sleep Well in Saigon"

In town they call you river-goddess.
Your nose is the narrow cliff of their life source.
The dripping faucet bids you home to the river...
Your place is in this sun-baked room made of our liquid love.

Your dark unruly hair makes the lawn of our bed fragrant.
Your limbs are collapsed towers accepting a delicious fate.
I eat and drink you for all these days that you let me.
Now I cannot go back to earthen food or water.

Your voice is a small house that I can live in,
Your lips the swift portal of a laboring man's bliss.
I enter your voice through your lips and sleep well in Saigon,
In the afterglow of a slumber I never wake from.