Alongside Many Changes

I used to know, 
regrets opened our eyes; 

My lover said, 
one lie told and the truth hid; 

I used to know, 
if I could remember days my eyes were open; 

Perhaps I used to know, 
without love as cloth, skin shivers and houses goosebumps;

My lover said, 
to remain by your side, I'd be shedding my sight;

If I could capture a star with my heartbeat 
the world would listen to my commands;  

My lover said,
why's there only silence in your house? 

I used to know, 
the shadow of my every whim; 

Perhaps I used to know, 
forever couldn't capture time;

I used to know, 
my name even when I went long periods without hearing it;

My lover said, 
can I believe your eyes when their shade is black; 

I'm neglectful, 
hence change brought calamity to my mind;

I used to know, 
regrets weren't an armour in face of truth. 

Who Might You Be There In Glass

I got mad starring at the girl in the mirror
oh but that’s wrong, ain’t it?
not a girl anymore, woman in the mirror

touch to her face
and I felt it yet was not my intended
let me know too with longing
when I went to touch my face away from her

how the woman, with her hollow eyes
seemed silent yet I heard complaints
fantasies could not drown,
complaints I answered to by
living near a window

she mocked me

a woman with brown eyes
brown eyes that seemed not to capture
images my mind picks in that land
only a guard-less mind can state true

silly even time teases me
brushes my skin like glass would
like a feather would stay on a cheek;

while her eyes are vacant except for the mole
that draws my attention and says,
was I ever truly not captivating?

dreams they’re called,

The girl, pardon me
but yes the girl whom I tried to remind
she drew a moon first and called home
then we were only strangers

In my madness, I raised my voice
because noise would switch on her eyes
but the slap given by her house, mirror
introduced me to a fascination of my blood
slowly sliding down my freckled cheek patiently
only to stop without resistance

stayed there too became a sculpture
missed her eye by an inch;
tears aren’t that tenacious

“I’m wrong.”
my hunched ego said
“I’ll try harder.”
my debt said

but I could never honestly accept her
she was never me;

The girl I am had long left to her house
hanging on the clouds and
rainbow roads with rain as curtains,

the woman I recognised as myself,
dream she’s called,
told me if I’d dared to become acquainted with that girl
then I’d know truly how the sun is like up close

I got so mad looking at the girl in the mirror,
oh but that’s wrong, ain’t it?
not a girl anymore, woman in the mirror.

Brown eyed woman, the colour which
the woman I recognised as myself
had never seen till I opened my eyes
to the girl in the mirror.

Ah but time knows many tricks…


Boy, the girl will undergo many parallel changes
As you’ll turn into a man with Adam’s apple
and she breasts and hips.
Don’t hold her too loosely else she’ll bruise
call you many colourful names.

Girl, the boy might develop a loose tongue
like these times, and forget he’ll need your touch
to soothe his history, be patient with his glazed eyes
after all before you could stab a man in the back,
he’d already known how easy it is to take a life.

Both of you, in a garden you understand
your paths might be aligned but
which thorns are poisonous you’ll find out individually

Boy, the girl will shed tears hidden from your sight
like you’d shed tears hidden from any sight
if you can, say; why couldn’t she?
That mistake, presume it was bad a day
otherwise don’t move briskly infront of her
there are many days when the sun don’t shine

Girl, you too discard expectations
of the moon and the stars when you’ve found
them indifferent to your whims…


I cry, I cry and let myself cry
because those tears are words
I didn’t get to say.

perhaps my patience like the ocean
has tried to simmer, to stir clear any poisonous
offers but cannot repel all thrown at it
hence my eyes, darker than dirt
are compelled to shed more tears
and my heart’s soothing song
cannot reach my ears.
I spend more nights looking up
asking for more like
how I’ll not get angry at my son
asking questions I cannot answer
raffle his hair gently instead
perhaps like that, like knowing the sun
cannot become a home,
when I beg insistently while I can still hold on
blink an eye at me so I can make a wish.
I haven’t slept in days…

My Dream Persists

I dream of you,
the man whose touch
I mimic whenever mine runs
to hide my eyes,
the man whose shadow left
me a shade lighter
than the sun ever dared to dream,
how did we ever meet?

I hold myself
to the height I think you might easily spot
and have broken a few steps
trying to hold that height
and silencing the murmurs that
drown my thoughts in muddy waters
I dream of you,

My stare in a mirror
trace where you’d stand and find
a wall brought closer by a mirror
as though even my house is taking pity
and when I extend my hand,
I touch nothing, like
I’ve become what was never there

There you were…

I dream of you,
the man I’ve carved from my longing
that I realized, I am faint with my steps
and the hand that offered me strength
out of kindness embodied the warmth
I’ve only received from my bed,
how could I not hold on tighter?

Little One presents: Little One, poetry written by Sia Morweng, who writes a blog called That Gut Wrenching Poetry …

Source: Little One

Winter’s Introduction.

I found beauty my greatest weakness
a haze one day leading to Easter
when the sun was overcome,
shut really by a calm rain.
It would peek but never get a chance
and as much as I hate the cold,
living throughout a day that feels
a shadow of my kind of day
kept my weakness a length away
from my grasp. Sunrise, sunset
or my bare feet on our lawn
away from my favourite scene,
a pint of sadness in a cold day
and many others to come. There, winter’s near.

If It’s Shadow Isn’t Clear

the road I was on 
was not even a road, 

looking down I saw I was
walking on clouds far above the ground,

help, help!
catch me, someone help! 

I’m going to fall, 
my life’s story of going unheard,

silence, if not simmering of silence 
said to me, why else did I think I was forever alone,

and my thoughts took pity on me?
Anybody, I’m going to fall!

There, below it looked a cluster
I saw no one

perhaps they’d gone to the moon or 
hiding from the sun, 

I saw a sketch similar to what father hid 
that time I walked into his study unannounced, 

he chased me away and 
I’ve been away since, 

I’m going to die! 

Till I remembered I’d only just realized 
It wasn’t a road I was on, 

but had been on since I woke
from childhood amnesia. 

Help, help 

I’ve defined my loneliness. 

Caught By A Shadow Of Mine

I belong to the state,
not known by myself,
by the one starring out a window
on a rocking chair,
to the bean or spark started in mother’s womb
long when I could tell is with many faces
I’ve come across and forgotten,
will not allow me to draw my dreams
in my diary.

Dear diary,

death brought to my door faces
with their masks beautifully put in place
the masks, perhaps time better left unsaid

“she could’ve lived her life well.”

I mourn looking at the picture
by the window frame,
does fragrance of her hot beverage
relate to her like colour red to blood?

she with me, she without me.
I should’ve walked on not looking
what I was stepping on.

“I vow she lived well.”

Dear diary,

care to explain where life truly begins?
without time and a mirror,
how could I have met myself

I belong to the state,
held together by breath
asleep and unaware, her hope is false hope
kicking in mother’s womb
no longer a bean.