Category: Poetry

Whiplash

RalphLeave a comment

When the ground falls and you plunge —

straight into the water —

you remember the fear you’ve forgotten awhile ago.

Like a torrential rain, it will dissipate

cotton candy clouds of idyllic daze,

and the familiar senses — the survival —

kicks right back in.

But don’t you go chasing after that stick yet.

Remember the rhythm, the breathing, so that you can see —

beyond what is immediate, beyond what feels tangible, and for what we will stand for in the end.

Remember the smile. Remember the soft warmth. Remember the playfulness.

Remember that you are loved.

4.5.2025

Glimpse

RalphLeave a comment

I like seeing your smile.

Like a small white budding flower

on the eve of a spring,

It brings soft warmth to my heart.

Yes — there are times for the sparring —

Let us savor this moment’s scent,

cherishing this dreamlike ephemeral peace.

May it keep our humanity within us.

I like you, you know.

I think we are a good team.

I enjoy our journey together.

I want to be with you as long as the time allows.

4.4.2025

M

RalphLeave a comment

Dear M, I am grateful for our run.

Jogging through the forest in full autumn foliage, we only chatted about the most mundane things,

but the bright smile, the lighthearted laugh, and the random jokes are what I remember to this day.

I made choices back then that I wish I had not made. In retrospect, had I been more courageous and honest, I may have avoided it. I am grateful for your strength, forgiveness, and resilience.

At times, I wonder if I have paid my dues. I sense it’s a lifelong responsibility, and I vow to be truthful to myself.

I will pass along the positivity and generosity you have shared with me. It would be a solace to see you smile again.

3.27.2025

Y

RalphLeave a comment

Dear Y, thank you for the 3 hours of memory.

When our 3-hour meeting was over,

in the morning after flying into the city,

I sat by a tiny jostling French franchise cafe,

staring out into normalcy of a suburban Spring,

realizing I may not see you again for a long long time (perhaps eternally long).

A burning realization shook me to my core. Should I have asked you to stay? It was just a few minutes ago—an alternate universe so palpable and vivid that it’s a somber reminder of utter solitude.

I walked through high-rises, museums, and the cemetery, and another question started to arise.

What is this burning sensation? Is it mutual? Is it pure, noble compassion, or is it a dark ball of yarn of obsession?

When my true colors arose, I could only acknowledge. I realized change was a necessity. To keep talking, running, and building is to keep the fire in my heart alive.

Thanks for showing me what staying true to yourself looks like. Thanks for walking away. Thanks for giving me a chance to look back at myself. Thanks for teaching me that I need to work, not just to survive but to keep dreaming, to keep loving, and to keep living.

3.25.2025