Love beyond and more...

My love has no birth...No death; only they are reincarnated... Each day, each night, with fresh shimmering words...
By: Subha M. ~ poet ~

Until we meet...

To the wind---I give you my final breath

For I've stayed on this earth for too long

My mortal self weary and shriveled

But not my heart nor my spirit

The heart does not die

 For with it the memory of one true love shall remain.

My eyesight may have dwindled

Or may have faded through the years

But the heart could see far beyond and more
Just like the  rusty strings that had been silenced,
But could still reverberate at the slightest of touch.

As I stand here unmoved

Like the ancient trees of the past

Hands outstreched like the barren branches

Waiting for the final remaining leaf to fall

To be with the rest of the withered leaves

Lay scattered on the ground---forgotten.

With them, I shall be one

Not sad nor remorseful

For I know I have lived and loved

A life not wasted at all

Until my last breath, my love

Until we meet again...

Faucet and Flatbread...( from Vimala's Tale )

After reading Vimala's tale about stolen pipe...

Initially I was scared, thinking of those thieves lurking around, but after reading Shernaz comment, then I realised they were not hard core thieves. Perhaps at that moment a hungry or desperate father or a brother passed by your house and saw that pipe as a means to buy food for the little ones who had been crying all day and night from hunger pains.

The only thing is that a lot of water was wasted, but then again pehaps not. Maybe after a few days you’ve noticed that your grass were luscious green and your flowers abloom. Another blessing disguised by all the trouble you went through…and a lesson learned too. Next time you have the same incident, you know what to do! =)) hahaha
Enjoyed reading those accounts written by Vimala!

In Awe...

At first, I was drawn in because of the word ''tamarind''... A favorite of mine. I was thinking of buying few boxes of those... but it's frozen outside. I could not even unfurl myself under the warmth of my microfiber blanket...
Then I started reading; I was hoping of reliving anything about this fruit I am obsessing with...but was surprised to have gained more than my shallow thought.
Your words meant more...and had burrowed deep into my heart.

In awe of your beautiful poem...


Sincerely,
Isabel

P.S. For now my craving had been curbed...tomorrow's another day. Delighted to be amongst the living...

Once heard it said...

I heard that there are different kinds of love...The one that burns deep and die fast...

The kind that starts big and slowly wears away thou it seemed you never used it up,then one day it is finished...

Then there is the kind of love that you do not notice at first, it just adds a lttle bit to itself everyday, like an oyster makes a pearl...grain by grain, a jewel in the sand...

That's the kind of love that endures the test of time.

For A Dear Someone...

Glad to hear your spirit's up once again...Life's like that, we go through a cycle and they're normal. So does the season; it changes from winter into spring and summer to fall. I see it as a blessing of renewal, to be able to experience every possible emotions --- or phases in life to fully understand, appreciate and treasure each golden moments.

It's like this...how can we acertain if something is really sweet if we haven't tasted something bitter? ...Or how can we distinguish nor say we're amazingly happy if we hadn't cried nor ever gone through sadness?

Such contradictions right? But they're all an integral part of the whole picture, it won't be complete without the other.

Keep smiling to keep the sun shining at your end... Because when you do, it brings extra warmth in our hearts to know that you're perfectly fine. Take care always dearest 'te Glad...


Most Sincerely,
Isabel

Simple fragments of...

 During my childhood years, we would always share/ eat big breakfast every morning. Inang Maria would always make simple garlic fried rice, fried eggs or omelette, fried sweet pork sausages with Asian spices and fried sweet plantains... She would also prepare my mom's special "TAPA" it's a homemade dried salted beef. I could almost hear the undeterred pounding sound made against the back of the big iron knife and wooden chopping board made from cuttings from a fallen Mango or Santol or Acasia tree. The remaining natural oil from the wood mixed with the aroma of just perfectly fried TAPA could instigate a hungry growl from my tummy... Glad I had those years and moments.
For I considered those simple fragments of my childhood days  priceless...or shall I say delicious!