who remembers trees
when air was free from fares
guiltless
tankless
unassailable
cliches of rustling leaves
enchanted forests
infanticidal practices like nestling newborns atop boughs
cordate declarations etched beneath oak bark and canary sashes
as dead as concrete blocks
and the nearest approximation is a toy broccoli flower
wire wools welded for steel topiaries
laud the arboreal knights
growing figments stalking the future
with whom was shared breath and hearth
in Slab City
Categories:
cordate, culture, environment, future, natural
Form: Free verse
Back to my sweet memory
when grandma was still there
She had a lovely music box
cordate
red
when she opened it
the box was playing
such a beautiful melody
embedded in my memory
there was
a little fairy
dressed in
ballet dancer
danced
rotated to
the sound of music
When I was upset
Or was afraid of
thunder
grandma would open
her Music Box
So there
went all the fears
When I felt hopeless
in difficult
situations
grandma opened
It back
to
restored my spirits
When i felt lonely
I listened to it
Comforted my heart
tonight
the music box is here
on the palm of my hand
I open
it for you
come
listen to the music calling
and look
how beautiful
this tiny fairy
dancing
for you
to return
all your loves and happiness
my dearest all
thank you
for your sweet smiles
very entertaining
my little fairy
in my music box
~(c) Sukmawati Komala
16 May 2013
Categories:
cordate, feelings,
Form: Dramatic Monologue