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Best Poems Written by Kaye S-

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12
Details | Kaye S- Poem

My Slap-Myself Thing

waterfall from skies compete with my thoughts
must be doing something else,
yet here I am, 

Here. I am.
Again.

Why do I keep coming back here?!?

A mental shake, 
as I chastise myself
 I shouldn't be here, don't belong here anymore.
Most likely, I never did, just pushed myself in this place.

But I feel like a homing pigeon,
where this is the only place I know
that I can be and not be.

Where I can hide and expose myself at the same time.
With repercussions? Maybe.

I sit in my own corner and immerse myself
in the chatter, the laughter, and other matters

Nobody really notices me,
but that's ok. 
I'm getting used to it.

I guess I keep coming back here
for that sense of familiarity, of a somewhat home,
for the memories.

Of myself in happier times,
of a chapter in my life that I have written
yet somehow botched up. Badly, so badly
that the words are all swimming in their own tears
Oozing ink, drowning.

But it shouldn't surprise me anymore?
This is me? 
Of course I will always somehow manage to mess things up.
Some ways more than the others,
'my-esque' askewness

For some, that chapter in my life
is of course negligible. An erasable footnote perhaps?
It hurts, but we all have our own worlds,
where you may not be as important to others
as you thought, as you wanted to be.

There I went, pushing myself again,
only to be pushed away with a 
thousand mile barrier of silence.
All along, being dust in that corner.

I gulp a bucket of tears,
because I will not deny it--
how much it hurts. Still.

But like what I say,
have to get used to it.

My hands are cold,
and I wipe snot from my nose,
a dainty trickle of snot, but snot nonetheless,
have had my snot-in-sheets phase,
so this is progress, that trickle.

1234, my clock says,
12345678910, I count to myself
collecting, breathing slowly
needles in my feet and shivering

Gosh, can I get any more pathetic?!

Yes, I have and I bet I will still be so.

No, this is not a pity-me thing,
more like a slap-myself thing

So I can look back, read this
and say to myself:

Others have it harder than you,
yet they stand,
I'm here sitting,
yet others stand.


...
the sky is still drumming the earth with water
and my eyes are threatening to do a duet. Again.

I chide myself, Enough now.
For my bags under my eyes are already so smooth, too deep
Too weathered and soaked for a year.


----> 'slap-myself thing', remember??

Remember.

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013



Details | Kaye S- Poem

Numby Dumby

Numby Dumby splat on a wall,
Numby Dumby had a hard fall.

All the bond mighty, 
and all the tape duct
couldn't fix Numby Dumby
and this truly sucks




* I know 
this isn't 
ABC poetry 
but 
somehow, 
I can't 
seem to 
change it. 
Oh well

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kaye S- Poem

Eleven Twenty-Thirty Six

sighs invade my fingertips,
scratching whorls and loops--

and all that comes to mind 
is the littleness of my heart.

of how it cannot take 
this, that, much, of regret-grief-silence

this realization, 
(the smallness of my heart)
makes me sad, but somewhat also falls into place

of how I have become numb, dumb, bumbling

I never seem to do enough for others,
yet do so much for some

Those that I don't do enough for, seems to have needed them (as well I)
Those that I do much for, flick me off like a speck of lint,
.... and they don't need me after all :'(

either way, I still lose them

so this comes to mind, thus the roots of my num(b)itty-ness:

be silent, my miniscule heart
I don't think you have enough room in your chambers

to    s h a t  t e r   anymore










15th November 2014

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kaye S- Poem

Sunken

deep pools
flow into rivers...
her sunken eyes

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kaye S- Poem

Illusion: Nada, With a Dollop of Wasabi

I imagine myself 
with my head on the table,
looking within you,
breathing you in,
with me conveying all that I want to say,
and get some answers.

We talk.
About the mundane things and the important things
Can we touch on everything and nothing,
about feeling and thinking,
with Japanese food eavesdropping?

Can't we go back to how things were,
be friends again and put the pieces back,
just try?
The end picture might look a bit askew,
but for me it's worth trying...

We laugh.
And I want to cry again right now,
for what was lost and messed up, 
and because I miss you So much
I miss the sound of my own laughter,
I miss that happiness in my eyes.

They somehow went meandering
to that place called Regret Ave., cor. What-If/When St.
and still haven't found their way back to me.

They seem to be enjoying themselves there,
finding it more fun than being with me...
goes to show what good company I am these days.

They like it there because maybe reality is there,
and as for me, I never even realized 
that I have wandered into
the Illusion of Nada

Where what I thought, where what I felt
was all an illusion
Or was it?
So does that negate all my wallowings?
I don't know anymore...
It felt real though. Still feels real.

But somehow, the silence that I have been meeting
has made me think, made me feel
that it was all nothing.
Somebody easily overlooked and forgettable.

An imaginary speck that made you blink for that time.
Seeing spots that made you crazy.

I can't say the same for me, though.
You are precious, far too real and unforgettable,
and I'm just here. Thankful for you, for everything

And me...
I just close my eyes, since the sadness 
that can be seen there is far too real.

It's not an illusion,
because others have been seeing it,
unlike you.

And I don't want them to know why.

I am still at that table though, 
fool that I am.

Waiting for laughter to return.

Chopsticks in hand,
I pick another piece of futomaki,
put a dollop of wasabi,
and close my eyes.

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013



Details | Kaye S- Poem

Yet Another Boo-Hoo Poem

The cursor blinks for the 254th time and I am still here,
sitting, letting my thoughts wander
to the left, what is left, 
If there is anything left
to wonder about

And    I realize that there is.
So much. Too much that I just have to smirk.

I am afraid that everything that will come out
would be sad, pitiful and wallowing.

Yet another boo-hoo poem.

It is nice to know that sometimes,
I do not disappoint myself.

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kaye S- Poem

Me-Low---Drama Tick

Yeah, 
I am feeling really
low


so

low


I am,
me low, so low

a

Drama tick

~~where I am my own tick

tic, tic, tic

toc.

Tick talk.

sucking myself dry,
my soul pouring out
yet I am still sucking it in

Afraid to break in front of everybody.
Yet I am gravid.

soul low. so low, sallow 

I know, I know

This shouldn't affect me.
But it has.. .it is.

Because it matters.
So much.
Even if I don't matter.

And I don't know, until when
I will feel this low, soul low.

Solo.

Yes.

The drama tick 
is still going s-low to get up,
Solo, so low.

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kaye S- Poem

Buying Roses From Miss Rose

A smile sneaks its way into my brain right now,
as a snapshot of that drizzly eve flashes by...

Buying roses from you, dear Miss Rose
and I am humbled again by you.

It's been a while since I last bought those mums from you.
But ah, you remembered me.
You did, just when I thought I was forgettable.

A dozen fuchsia roses this time,
and I asked for some asters....

You said you didn't have any
but Oh! 

What is this?
...Extra lilies for me?

Humbled and touched I am. 

You said it was my Christmas present...

To receive something from somebody 
who has lost much,experienced flooding
over the holidays...

It's like a soft quilt wrapping 'round me
on a rainy, rainy, gray day

Another 312 seconds of lightness times 10
as it has been 10 days, and yet,
your gesture still lifts my spirits.

Another dewdrop from you, Miss Rose.

...another dewdrop that I string in this
broken heartlace of mine


Thank you.

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kaye S- Poem

312 Seconds of Lightness

Passing by the wet market,
seeing flowers—
decided to buy some, 
to brighten the day,
one of those inside-gloomy-days

The sun was beating down,
and even the roses were scorched
but the lady selling them had a smile,
since she knew that she was going to get a sale.

The roses or those big mums?
(I cannot remember what she called them exactly—started with an A)
With the hot weather, I can imagine those roses
lasting only a day
So the big mums it is.
I ask for some aster, and she adds them to the flowers….

I looked at those mums—white and yellow,
yes, they sort of looked like big spiders
They looked pale, sort of like me.
So I asked the lady to please
add those smaller, lavender mums
for some splash of color…

I really like it sometimes
when people just suddenly start talking 
when they do something—
it reveals that passion they have for it.

I asked her name—
Rose.
How fitting indeed.

The lady selling flowers is named Rose.
I will now remember.

She seemed happy she made a sale,
too happy she gave me the wrong change…
so I returned the extra money with a smile
I got a smile for my change.

Feeling lighter as I walked on,
even with the bright afternoon sun bearing down on me…

And then—

Dryness,
just feeling so dry within,
it almost felt like the flowers that I held
were withering in stop motion
 (just like some things in my life),
I had to stop myself from checking
whether they had turned brown already,
all because of me…
I felt so sapped.

The struggle to lift myself up continues…

Ah, Miss Rose,
I shall buy flowers from you again,
if only to get 312 seconds of lightness.

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kaye S- Poem

Catching Falling Stars In the Rain

Falling stars are always there,
we just don't always see them
and there I was, 
surmising for that shower

only a different kind of 
falling happened...

          Where 
        shooting stars 
               should be,
             only raindrops 
                   kept
                     fall
                       i
                        ng


I held my palms up,
and closed my eyes,
in hopes of cradling a wish,
but only felt my cheeks getting wet

...    not 
from the skies,
   but
from my eyes

I don't know why,
simply 
don't know why anymore

I still try to 
catch falling stars 
in the rain,
hoping, 
wishing, that it's true.


That they're always there.

Please stars, 
catch me,
I'm falling,

 f
  alling


d
 o
  w
    n...

Copyright © Kaye S- | Year Posted 2013

12

Book: Reflection on the Important Things