Author: Ralph

life. coffee. stories.

Yemeni Girl

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I can’t forget her.

I can’t forget the way she shyly lowers her head as she said she memorized a beautiful Arab song a week before,

in front of a crowd full of confused Americans

and she said she was happy she did it.

 

I can’t forget her petite black bicycle she told me

she pulled apart, into her luggage,

through the airport security check,

so that she can fly,

and then land in a new place where she can ride her black bicycle.

 

I can’t forget her white teeth

that innocently gleamed,

as her pride glowed in halo

against the sun that left her home.

 

I can’t forget the picture in her smartphone background,

an impromptu portrait of a woman elegantly poised with a scarf wrapped around,

and her bitter lips spreading over her teeth,

smiling against a shadow so thick.

 

 

9.27.2019

 

Fiddle

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clicks of your shoes on a dark asphalt

echoes through an empty road under the night sky

fireflies flicker about the light post,

chilly winter breeze hurriedly pass us by,

 

Perhaps a bundle of fiddles, we are

dancing on a gentle breeze, harsh breeze, tornado,

earthly bound, soaking underly redoubtably grand sunlight,

 

perhaps we grow a little,

perhaps we spread out a little,

perhaps we laugh a little.

clicky-clack, dancing through this infinite night.

 

9.26.2019

Lunch

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For a drop of soul lost in an silent ocean of darkness,

For a rusted needled buried deep beneath billions of grains of desert sand,

There is a resonation.

An invisible, perhaps unbelievable, resonation whispers a promise.

Rise tomorrow.

Repeat. Again, and again.

We shall meet in our glory atop of heave of our works.

Overcome and repeat,

Within a blink of an eye, we’ll be there.

9.25.2019

Burn

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It’s getting hot in here

There is no way to turn

Sight is getting blurry

Forced breathing becomes harsher

The harder I run, more difficult it becomes,

More angry I get, more oxygen I lose

More bitter I become, further the door goes away

A fine line between anger and panick

A tiptoed balance on a cliff

A dice throw to see where we land.

9.24.2019

Summer Walk

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Don’t accuse that man playing guitar sitting by the side walk bench in his melancholic tune.

Perhaps you may wonder how he dares to waste his time so imprudently away while you walk by trotting away.

Perhaps you may want to consider if the man had a crash of tragedy in his life.

Perhaps you may prefer pondering if you had a violin string snapped, sprung into a spiral.

Don’t accuse the man. But just walk away, listening to this music.

9.23.2019

Heat

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Taken a few blow,

Still standing, waiting to make a final move

What’s it going to be

A fume of smokescreen

Or a dashing punch.

Only in this moment

When things are idle and soft

For this very moment may perhaps be brief

Soak your feet into this pond,

And coast in a breeze of summer sunshine

9.22.2019

Trail Blazer

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Autumn air carried a matured scent,

Like a soft young girl’s hand,

Once fresh with all the possibilities,

Now toughened, acquiesced to sensibilities.

Buried deep within thick skin and smiles,

Spiraling with bitter humor and lyres,

One foot at a time, one jump at a time,

Hopping jovially, crimson sun rises

One last time.

9.21.2019

Manure

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I’ll become the best manure on this earth

I may turn brown,

I may stink,

And I may become soft mush.

But I’ll become the best manure on this earth,

Blood and sweats of working out every morning and night,

Flesh and bone jumping through hoops and fires,

I’ll give all I have.

9.20.2019

Ants

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Yes.

A small yes was where it all started.

An ant compared to a glacier whale

May be a feeble dust in a wind,

But a yes cannot be changed.

It will haunt through thousands of hills,

Lurk in mindless blind spots,

Resounding heartbeats blares its horns

As dusts flares into a grand sand storm.

The ant has said yes.

9.19.2019