Long Little by little Poems
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Who is there? Come in and sit with me.
I welcome you to my home.
Why do I welcome you so?
You are hated, feared, attacked and fired upon,
treated as a foreigner poised to take a land that is not yours.
Are you death? “No!” Are you a messenger of death? “No!”
Are you a friend, a companion who comes to travel with me?
Why have you come to me?
Was it something I did? Has my family sent you?
Please leave me! I have not asked to be tortured.
You will walk with me until the end of my days?
I will embrace you as my friend.
You will be there when others have left me or when they can no longer walk with me…
You are not an angel of death but in disguise an angel of life…
You will take my body to the grave, but my spirit to heaven…
To you my friend I owe my life… You have never been welcomed.
I not only welcome you my friend…
I embrace you and the news you bring.
With out you life would become tedious and dull.
You break up the monotony of repetition.
When others have turned away as if I have done something unforgivable,
you embrace me little by little. I will not fight you.
I will not attempt to poison you!
No… I say!
Do not take from me this my friend…
My friend knows the path I travel.
My friend will walk with me until I walk no more.
And my friend will lay me down and fold my hands across my chest.
Don’t weep for me.
I have reached my destination.
My friend traveled with me and when I fell… my friend was there.
My companion until the end…
and he asks nothing of me for I give willingly.
My Beloved, My Yellow
There are feelings too sacred
for language to hold.
Perhaps that's why,
long before love had a name,
yellow became my heart's first devotion.
I never questioned
why my heart
always reached
for yellow.
Perhaps
my soul had always known
what my heart
had yet to discover.
Little by little,
every shade of yellow
grew to resemble
the gentleness
of you.
It is the light
that lingers after dawn,
the quiet solace
found beneath an endless sky,
the gentleness
that asks for nothing,
yet gives everything—
the quiet miracle
hidden within every shade of yellow.
Somewhere
between silence
and golden light,
my heart
found its way
to yours—
as flowers
lean toward light,
as rivers find the sea,
as the moon
keeps its promise
to the night.
They call it love
when hearts
learn to let go.
Yet my heart
has never understood
why love
must loosen
the very hands
it longs to hold.
Perhaps love
was never meant
to be possessed,
but only to be cherished—
cherished like sunlight
peeking through the trees in summer,
like a flower blooming quietly,
admired but never plucked,
like a butterfly resting beneath the sky,
admired but never captured,
cherished like an artist
holds his muse within his heart—
not to own its beauty,
but to forever be moved by it.
A blessing silently placed upon the heart,
a prayer whispered only to the soul.
If love
ever chose
to bloom,
it would bloom
in yellow.
It would bloom
in you.
And perhaps
that is why
every shade of yellow
sounds like
your name,
spoken softly
to my heart—
the quiet solace
my soul had always needed.
You—
my beloved,
my yellow.
“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”
( Eleanor Roosevelt )
When the night settles heavy on the windows--
we lean into the quiet and let hope speak softly.
Where shadows stretch and slowly settle,
the edges of tomorrow begin to form.
The thoughts we hardly admit to ourselves,
sink into the dark and start to root.
And yes, doubt comes around from time to time…
but a gentle, honest light can gather the heart.
Even if our hands shake, they still shape the road,
and unsure steps still get us somewhere.
Little by little, the day comes closer,
and we walk toward it quietly…
making morning happen,
architects of time.
written_12012025_Don Mueang
From Satan to the USA
Dear United States
You’ll soon be at Hells Gates.
I laugh as you cry.
You keep saying why?
The answers are in that Book, you don’t read.
I taught you that there is no need.
That’s okay I’m as crafty as they come,
First, I made you numb.
That was easy you see,
Once you invented the TV.
Oh, yea, that was smart.
You have become only couch art.
You could enjoy the outdoors the other Guy created,
Instead, I’ll fill your head with nonsense until your cremated.
You think athletes disrespect your country.
Why pay them so much to feel so crummy?
My battles are small, and I am patient.
This problem you now see is ancient.
It is not the rioters, or her, or him.
They are just doing what your schools taught them.
You could be more involved in your kid’s education,
But you are too busy for this action.
You had only one chance to field this with your glove.
For that, read the third stanza above.
I have been destroying the strongest Christian nation,
I started the day of its creation.
July 4, 1776.
Now you hate her, so you throw bricks.
Little by little, it is me dividing you.
Don’t love one another, just live without a clue.
Copyright © Robert Moore June 2020
Like the morning light, your path does glow,
Brighter like the new sun, its radiance to show.
For God has gone ahead, paving your way,
With goodness and mercy that follow each day.
Angels assigned, to guard and protect,
In your earthly journey, every step you tread.
Ascending and descending on your portal so clear,
Their presence, a blessing, they dispel all danger.
So be still, dear soul, and listen well,
To the still small voice, your gentle counsel.
In a moment, go through the gate of your future,
The door, already prepared for you to enter.
Abundance awaits in this sovereign time,
Like honey from the rocks, so sweet and sublime.
Take your heavenly seat, use His sword your victory,
Your spirit strengthened with miracles and authority.
Access granted to health, to miracles profound,
Little by little, reclaiming your rightful ground.
For your inheritance, step by step, you'll regain,
As destiny beckons, with His glorious proclaim.
The 8th generation of cats has been born.
As it has always been,
The milk is limited.
The space is limited.
They seek a first kiss.
Not milk, but the mother’s first lips.
The one who claims it first
Re-creates a new life for the days to come.
Pushed away. In a body struggle unseen,
I taste the holy water of the first nipple, yet I am pushed away.
Little by little, from that nest,
Little by little, I am pushed out.
Craving that kiss of first desire,
I draw near, but already,
Hunger has conquered my flesh.
I could never dare to gaze into my mother’s eyes.
Not even the blade-like lashing of her bitter tongue.
"Isn’t this what our life is?"
In the end, loaded onto a coffin,
Without ever getting drunk on the rich, milky taste of my mother,
I am sent away to my earth.
"Isn’t our life like this, too?"
In an era of material omnipotence,
In hunger and in fullness,
We do not seek out the baby kittens.
In the end, it is merely a designed pyramid.
The well-fed pig pursues a dream,
While the hungry pig longs to be full.
"Which class do we stand upon?"
Are we loach fish writhing in the muddy pit?
Or are we the grass blades
Dancing with the wind?
"We are all mere observers."
The living witness life,
The dead remember the fragrance of the primal mother’s milk.
I observe the new 8th generation of cats.
The 8th generation of cats observes me.
"If this alien dies, will we finally be free?"
Little by little, step by step
I softly remember what I must forget
Time is cruel, time is kind
at first pain then benign
All it takes is some time
sometimes...
Blueberry skies and a lemon sun
we were in love we were young
All we knew were kisses and fun, kisses and fun
Blueberry skies and a lemon sun
the world was ours we had won
Carefree lovers on the run
Blueberry skies and a lemon sun
Love can cost you your soul
love may force you to let go
No ifs, No maybes, No whys
just a shatter heart dying inside
Blue and red flashing lights
caught us asleep at night
Broken up broken apart
Broken love broken hearts
It's been a long long while
now I can somehow smile
Time numbs the heart
time lets the pain depart
Yet sometimes when the skies are blue
I recall happier times with you
Just a nudge and a tug
takes me back in your love so smug
Blueberry skies and a lemon sun
we were in love we were young
All we knew were kisses and fun, kisses and fun
Blueberry skies and a lemon sun
the world was ours we had won
Carefree lovers on the run
basking in our loving fun...
There really was nothing to explain
it was all just childish games
And I was the only one to blame
In your eyes I saw afraid
mine trapped in a gaze
What had we done
What had we done
Blueberry skies and a lemon sun.
The door to the bookstore creaks complaining
Books for new and old customers
a small bookstore since 1937
I get symptoms of claustrophobia,
mouse droppings and dust
but, definitely has its charm
Then the smell comes and slaps me in the nose
Mothballs, a strange sweet air
The books are not old, they are vintage
The owner is about 80 years,
an apathetic man with glasses
Little by little, the room slowly fills up
Some buddies with 4-wheel walker
overly tight braces and corduroy trousers
When they nod their heads
it even flies dust out of their hair
They should not buy books,
but have a little coffee break
in the bookstore's back room
10/03/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Inspirational Quote in Giorgio's contest: "Dear alcohol, We had a deal where you would make me funnier, smarter, and a better dancer. I saw the video. We need to talk..."
- Anonymous
she has a dear spouse who’s no longer shy
in taste of you, he’s gone wild in a mile
dancing on his feet as if he’s in sky
salsa, hip hop , jazz… mixing them a while
his out of tune songs irk her with wry smile
dancing with him in stinking smell of rum
little by little you’re making him dumb
he has been allowed since he has guts at once
ignoring her lately was a whambam
‘til his demise comes in a short distance
Dec. 2013
Fourth Place
Contest: Impress me with a small poem III
Judged: 3/9/14
Sponsor: Poet Giorgio A. V
Yes here we go
Round and round and round
Buzz blow for blow
Seek till lost is found
In twist and turn
Found and lost and found
Watch the stakes burn
Toss and turn old grounds
Feel that odd curl
Little by little
Strange senses hurl
Watch doodles unfurl
Dig deeper dream
Blot pen on paper
Set fragile scheme
For mind does matter
Forge feisty stuff
Prompt puzzles profound
More than enough
Moot rules quite unsound
Curb that fancy
Slave to old fashion
Not quite trendy
On timely action
Still as ample
As dawn light sermon
That hurls sample
To cast vain demons
Set our cares free
Ending and starting
To simply be
Starting and ending
Wit wallows well
In sublime retreat
No need to dwell
On how ends can meet
Leon Enriquez
30 July 2017
Singapore