Lits/Sastra, Poems/Puisi

Bird in a cage

Mountain bluebird: another amateur watercolor work

So, what am I?
A bird you’d like to keep in a cage
Or a painting you’d love to gaze

You keep me hang at your wall
So you can see me anytime you want
As much as you please to flaunt

But a cage is a cage
I’ll just stay there hanging
And you only want to see me dancing

And a painting is a painting
A thing you’d like to stare
Not even close to anything you wear

(May 5th, 2017)

Lits/Sastra, Poems/Puisi

Sensibility, Nonsense

Margo remembered as a child
She used to imagine
That she had this superpower
Her favorite was predict future
Or simply read people’s mind

As she grew up, she learnt that
She could really do that
No, she said she didn’t predict future
Nor, read people’s mind

She was an empath, the super sensitive
As well she was people’s observant
She knew when people are happy or sad
She got it when people like or don’t like things
She could tell if they’re telling lies

As time passed by
She got tired of all those
But she just knew
Anger, frustration, lunacy, obsession, hate
She would catch all those
She said, it made her tired

She was then a grownup
A wary and exhausted one
She wished she had never wished
To have that superpower
For what is knowing minds
If tortured all the time

She was then a grownup
She remembered that day
That she changed her mind
She wished to be
Someone who knew nothing
None of those things

Cause all this sensibility was nonsense

Prompt: Superpower

Lits/Sastra, Poems/Puisi

Too Naïve

Like, a baby bear gets in the bees hive
to get some honey,
A cat is playing with
a moving tail of a python,
And, a dog is trying
to catch a lost porcupine

Sometimes we just don’t have idea
For thing we love or we love to do,
For what will come, and what may harm.

Like someone loves too much
Too naïve, to think the heart is made of stone.


September 17, 2016 – A response to daily post, here and now.

Photos, Poems/Puisi

Hide and Seek

I miss those trees standing in line making a majestic row. That dance and sigh when the wind blows. I miss those thin weather that bites my skin and through my bone. When my nose hurts cause it is just too cold to breathe. I miss to see the fog. That blurs the sight of the mountain. And creates the most mysterious field of vision. I miss those empty narrow streets that veer as if trying to run, and tell me “So, let’s play hide and seek!”.

A response to a weekly photo challenge: narrow.
I took these pictures in Darajat Pass, Garut, West Java, ID by the beginning of the year 2015.