Halfway Poems

Halfway-Nowhere

Love, is not a moderate image to paint !
I have tread a serene parks walk with colourful abundant trees and beauteous scenes
Yet Love  :
“let me honour those who favour you their forte”!
Lustful young love and bitterness  in sweet red wine
Patience in a white steady car awaiting traffic to mind time
Everything coming together , it is my damn fault you are not mine?

Frantically screaming in the passages of my life
In a motion that is slow they kiss me to complete my life
And touch me I fathom inside me caterpillars turn to  butterflies

Tomorrow im in the hue-less shadows of solitude
And love is a ghost 
Oh it unremorsefully robs me of hope
On an isolated bench gazing the starry nights 
Your identity is a historic illusion of time

Halfway Down

People wanted to see the view
From halfway down
This life their leading
Down the wrong paths
With the wrong map
With shoes too big
With rocks in the way
Is tiring
And I know somewhere
There’s a place where
People who didn’t want to 
Walk any further 
Told each other about
What they saw
From halfway down
The river and the lake
The mirror and the bathroom floor
The rocks that looked so small
From so high up

Maybe they could’ve gotten over them after all
But the view from halfway down
Was a sight to see before you died
Because once you got that close
You could really see the details
Appreciate the little things
And the things that looked little
From high above
But once you get so close to the edge
To the end
You finally appreciate the little things

Only when you make it
Halfway down

The Halfway Glass

A city block vendor chimes pleasantries prouder
than Muzak or an unseen crow in the background 
elevating alarm clock music in the caws
uncredited and angrily growing louder.

A walkway narrows between the vendor
and a building. I teeter between both
as I pass by her grill
parked beside the vape shop. A blistering warmth

whitens piled pink hotdogs and tickles my ribcage.

A parakeet on her shoulder
is flaking off the sun and feathering the moon.

Steamy sundowns moisten her saucer eyes.
One dog pops sausage through its skin. She fans
the minty menthol. I pay the price
for squinting. I've dropped my glasses. Splitting

off-key shattered glass,
the containment of what used to be
bits of me shows up digits-bloodied.
Long after the initial sweep up,
little jagged cuts still happen.

Here We Are, Halfway through November

    Here we are, halfway through November
       What happened to July, August and September

    Looking forward to the ‘big three holidays’
       Who remembers July 4th’s barbecue blaze

    Sweltering summer long forgotten
       Cool days of Autumn now begotten

    Time never pauses; it simply hurries on
       Look back too long ~ the future’s come and gone

Halfway the Path

They were sweethearts from childhood
Someday wed was understood
Clashing goals drove them apart
Now, there’s no path to their hearts

Lovely in her wedding dress
At the altar, vows professed
Bound ever to another
What might have been was over

Halfway the path to a heart
Another must share that mark
Where true love’s most skillful art
Molds “Until death do us part”

At halfway mark two begin
Both lovingly bound by trust
Life’s reliable linchpin
Forever holds safely thus

halfway down

midwinter sun
car windows rolled 
halfway down

Halfway to Heaven

We're halfway between the Earth and the Moon
Riding the sky in a hot air balloon
All through the day and well into the night
Me and my gal on a romantic flight

Floating aloft on an Easterly breeze
A vantage point over deep salty seas
The two of us engulfed in such pleasure
An experience beyond all measure

On this voyage is well worth defending
But sadly now it's time we're descending
So down through the clouds with nary a sound
The tale we can tell when we hit the ground

Halfway Through October

Oh, lovely month of my birth,
Showering so much delight!
Your colorful canvas on earth
Are trees with fiery leaves so bright,
Heavy rain of confetti keeps falling in my sight.

- Halfway Through October -

                                           orange sherbet sun
                                      prepare your jack-o'-lantern -
                                            a toothless monster

Stuck Halfway

Most dissolve or become 
shrines you visit in old age.
Others linger, unresolved,
and can sit there in memory
for years until what is missing
comes creeping back 
or starts the replay
of a moment you paused 
long ago, now let to run
its full length even if
a lifetime late.

There are others that remain
always in between,
stuck halfway
like a stone cast into the dark,
when the ear waits to hear 
it break the river's quiet,
but there is no sound,
no end, only a silence 
and the fog coming in, 
the cold, bitter air 
biting on every nerve,
panic taking hold,
closing in to keep a part
of you there, waiting
for something
that will never come.

Halfway Apart

Feed our love,
Let it blossom,
Feed our love,  
Fan its embers.

A garden of purple beauties is my delight, 
A radiant and clear sky is my desire,
A night sheet embellished with dazzling lights is my longing.
A fluttering of colourful wings is my joy.

Nurturing my confidence is your warm smile,
A softer life was our beginning,
Chauffeuring my day is your embrace,
A tranquil flow was our union.

Each day further apart we drift,
Each dawn miles apart we go,
Our disparate dispositions have stirred up the tide,
Our uncommon grounds have cloaked our happiness.



November 19, 2022.

Dead Center

November descends delicately,
          crisp, crimson-gold
   landing languidly midway between 
          'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day'
      and 'Now is the winter of our discontent' -
              dead center between its nurturing tree
          and the leaf pile bound for burning

Casually clad in T-shirt and shorts
        on my makeshift cardboard sled
   middle age's gravity conveys me irreversibly
           down summer's green, grassy slope
     towards the snow-shrouded vale -
               I find myself halfway between
        where I did not want to leave
                   and where I do not wish to visit

Midway between the eulogy 
       and the forlorn trumpet playing 'Taps'
  it dawns on me that life is not entirely about the
           sunshine on our backs nor the coming snowbank
      but about searching for the sunrise
               on the far side of
         the next hill


1 November 2022

Halfway There

I found a comb in my pocket there

    ~ Now I just need to find some hair

Halfway There

Told my girlfriend ‘I’m halfway there’
   She figured I was thirty-five…

After she’d done up and married me
   I told her I’ve one foot in the grave
                           ~ yet still alive

Halfway Up

He climbed the hill of coupling
with gladness that love could bring
but had no happy ending.







Note: This form is called Diona, a traditional short Filipino poem which is only a tercet, having 7 syllables in each line, and aaa rhyming scheme.

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