Rare riddles are oft bittersweet,
a never ending search for poisonous feed,
sand greyish desert coloured ****,
so many studies, not edible this seed?

Emeralds green in forrests deep,
sunken wood drifted apart and seep,
mortal words that never sleep,
in a city full of leaks.

cherished thoughts wandering celestial high,
whose orphans are these lost kids…sigh….
flickering fields, amish nigh;

shiverings on personal corpses,
numb of words, ah… stunts in shortest.

The words refused to be arranged as it must.
I lost my commands of the words, no, it’s no plus,
these words mock mankind as their playful lust,
sorry, now I can only say in the past tense:" Friends, 'twas....."



©  SYLVIA FRANCES CHAN

Heart of all my hope,
Never leave me,
I would be bereft,
Longing for the soul who made me whole.
Give me just a moment
To make you my own,
I will entwine like ivy
Around your burgeoning heart,
Trailing tendrils of my former life;
Dessicated leaves of loss
Swept away by the winds of change.
A hurricane
Heart of all my hope.

A star so bright
It blinds the eye.

A sky so dark
It dims the heart.

A tree so high
It scars the skin.

A sea so deep
It stabs the soul.

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each line of poetry
the petal of a rose
between
each petal

a pearl

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