Love don’t live here anymore
I don’t know when the coldness crept in
Was it you or was it me, that opened the door?
It doesn’t matter now, but back then,
We couldn’t get enough of each other,
Where our love used to warm this bed,
but now we both have given it to another.
We could waste each other’s time
And play the classic blame game
But we both know we have crossed the line
And nothing we say or do will be the same
Sadly, we continue to lie here to play this charade.
According to the advocacy site, Legacies of War, “During the Vietnam War-era, more than two million tons of unexploded ordnance were dropped on Laos. An estimated 30 percent of the ordnance did not explode on impact, leaving at least one third of the land across all 17 provinces contaminated by these deadly tennis ball-sized weapons.” Even though the Vietnam War ended n 1975, the unexploded ordnance is still wrecking havoc in the lives of the villagers in Laos. The fight to clear the UXO is arduous work and the organization, Legacies of War, are continuing that fight to raise awareness and take action. As a child of the Vietnam War, I support their effort in providing a safer environment and assistance for the villagers of Laos. I wrote this poem to raise awareness of the issue.
Fresh off the boat,
Are survivors, troopers,
Silent victims of the Vietnam War.
Displaced, homeless, country less.
Witnesses to the horror of,
Cluster bombs raining down on their homes.
Days of pounding, and heavy artillery rain,
Sad Legacies of War.
*** To find out more on how you can help clear the cluster bombs in Laos, please visit: http://legaciesofwar.org/.
Yearning for the ONE
Soul that is meant to be mine,
Dreams is all it is.
Inexplicable
Sadness overwhelms my soul
My heart in pieces
The red thread of destiny
No longer binds me to you
Splashes of pink clouds
Dominating the blue sky
Night time approaching
I have to admit a deep dark secret (no I’m not a man:)! I am obsessed with the Medieval time! Something about that time period calls to me. Maybe in another life time I was a princess living in those beautiful castle waiting for her Knight in shining armor to come galloping through the gate, galantly jumping off the horse coming to rest on bended knee…. professing his undying love and devotion…Okay, I’m being dramatic and delusional! Men are not THAT chivalrous or romantic anymore! At least not like in this movie Tristan and Isolde. I guess I am a glutton for punishment because even though I knew how the movie was going to end, I still watched it! If you haven’t seen this movie then it is worth your time.
On a serious note, I really do love the Medieval time because of the knights, the code of chivalry and adventure. Even though I am not a violent person, I love the stories of courageous knights fighting in tournaments and battles to protect their lords or kings. If I could go back in time I would pick this time period, but of course I would have to take some meds with me like aspirin, flu medicine, antiobiotics and pain killers just in case I get unlucky and get sick.
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
To me Shakespeare is the master of the manipulation of words to express the wide range of human emotions. His love poems are beautiful because the words expresses a vivid picture that lingers in our minds even after we read it. The words inspire some of us to give more in our relationships. Also, the powerful words even motivate some of us to reach a greater emotional height than we thought possible.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day and Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments are two of his most well known and beloved poems. For some romantics out there, these two poems expresses the ideal emotions or beliefs of what love is like. Whereas I find the two poems at the top of the list of my favorite love poems, I have to admit his ” My mistress’s eyes are nothing like the sun” is also romantic in a weird way. I love this poem because it speaks of unconditional love. A man and vice versa should love each other unconditionally without doubt or reservation. I like the fact that in this poem the narrator admits his lady love is not the most good looking or most desirable to some people, but to him she is everything.
For some people looks doesn’t matter. Well, at least it is not the most important thing in a relationship. Is it just the romantics who believe that love conquers all or that love is blind? Are men more obsessed with physical beauty than women? What is the first thing a man notices about a woman? As for a woman, what does she notice first? The smile of a man or his physicality? Can a relationship endure once that beauty wanes or will the two lovers give into temptation? Do we blame human nature for everything because it is a cop out? Can religion, culture, and our background affect our relationship. For example, some people stay together because they take their vows literally, “Until death do us part”. However, for others, it’s more like until you screw up and I can’t stand you anymore or the grass is greener on the other side. Are men more tempted than woman by physical beauty?
Underneath the blue sky
I lift my face, watching the clouds roll by
smiling, raising my arms high
The sun shining on my face
lieing on the grass, my personal time and space
content, sublime, no other place
Cool breeze carassing my skin
gently my soul do mend
lifting away my worries, happy again.
My beloved grandma has survived many wars, many tragedies, and lost loved ones. She is a survivor and I wrote this poem in honor of her bravery and her ironclad will to survive. This poem is based on a memory I have of my grandma when my sisters and I lived with her in Laos. I have this memory where my grandma sat and weave at the loom when soldiers shown up at our village. Everybody else ran and hide, while she continue to weave and listen to her folk songs on the radio. I never got a chance to ask her if this memory was real or not or if I imagined it. Hopefully, one day soon I will be able to go see her in Laos and ask her. It does not matter because I wrote the poem to show her how I see and feel about her. Here is to all the brave and courageous grandma in the world.
Gun shot ringing
radio on, grandma humming.
Soldiers advancing
creeping,running sweating.
Villagers hiding
grandma still weaving.
Hands deftly swinging
silk threads intertwining.
Danger closely pressing
grandma never flinching.
Silently the group of refugees
breaks through the jungle free
Eyes and ears straining to the dark
shores of the Mekong, too tired to walk.
Babies crying, mothers’ desperate pleas
Soldiers breaking through the trees
Screaming, ” Get on your knees”
Fathers, brothers, sisters begging,
“Please let us make it to the crossing.”
Gun shot ringing, rat-a-tat-tat
people dropping, crimson splat.
Copyright ©2007 Anasone Aragon
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