coffee, glasses, pen, notes... roses and knife

Those were the things I had on my desk this morning

Little Girl, Me, and the Night

I was sleepless last night. Sobbing,
the little girl in me said she was tired
of being cold under frayed veil,
and she was longing for the delight
of dancing on my pleasure's tip

I didn't know how to comfort her
for I had no consolation, no solace
to offer. It was me and the night,
held her shaking dreams for a dear life
we were worn out empty at dawn.


17/11/2011
© Era Fiyantiningrum

Lovely Hibiscus Months Ago

Could not concentrate on anything, I was back to clean up then. Whoaaa...
What box for memory? What box for hope? And for the evening laughs? For
returned smiles?

Halves of a Night 5

After the evening storm, it was icy
calm in your room last night.
I saw you trembling and a mongrel, wounded,
listening to your cries like a mother did
licking its scabs cautiously unnoticed.
She knows they will be yet other scars
as kind gifts from the life, memento
from the many battles she survived

© Era Fiyantiningrum

Broken

For once I know the time is coming to take my dreams
off the night screen, then fold them neat. Perhaps,
some will need extra handling. Roll them tight.
Separate them carefully from socks and underwears.

I too know, flowers and rivers should be in the same box
with green lake and hazy mountains. Shady pathways,
giant trees, all the green lanscapes should be done
in other luggage.

After that, in the wee hours all I have is quietness;
a broken mind to console.

11/11/11

© Era Fiyantiningrum