Flipped Serendipity

finding peace

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  • Missing Flights

    by

    “Boarding for flight to—“
    I collected my belongings: laptop, charger,
    bag—making sure I don’t leave anything
    aside from my almost empty coffee and water.

    “Will passengers on rows 26 to 42–“
    People rushing, places to be, dragging you
    with them in their incessant pursuit of trying
    to find purpose in life—work, pleasure, personal issues.

    “Will passengers on rows—“
    I found myself caught in currents by powers
    beyond me. I took my things and went—going
    where I felt I had to be, chasing after lost hours.

    “Final call for flight—“
    You looked out the window, the airport in view,
    knowing it will much longer that you be seeing
    that again. Know that they would miss you too.

    “This is your pilot speaking.”
    I sat on my desk, in my office, for another
    day at work. You were miles away, flying
    farther away. And I knew joy none the better.
    Author’s notes

  • Watch a Movie With Me

    by

    , 
    The line was short, and the wait soon over. Not many
    still watch in cinemas, but I like the big screen. I knew
    which film to watch, and which seats I want: just slightly
    midway up the theater, in the center, and have it all in view.

    The snackbar took longer with people indecisive, and food
    takes longer to prep and to serve than clerks printing tickets
    for people who knew what they wanted before they queued
    and that when seats are not available just decide to wing it.

    When they let you in the theater, it's fast, easy, nothing
    to worry about. You walk up aisles, find your seat, take it,
    and make yourself comfortable. Next is simply watching
    through promises for the future: trailers, teasers, you know it.

    Then what you--me--have been waiting for plays: the movie,
    the drama, romance, comedy, thriller, whatever... finally.
    Author’s note

  • Violins and Trees (Unforgettable)

    by

    , , 
    Grains and ridges glazed
    The past made to be forgotten
    A form unfamiliar to the self

    Music played, notes sung
    A distant lover’s longing caress
    On ties stretched along the body

    The song of birds reverberate
    Humming through a new jungle
    A standing tree to a seated forest

    The applause of branches and leaves
    The woods having come to life
    As the bird long dead hymns an end

    An elegy for lost friends
    Screaming from chains bound
    The violin cannot forget its birth.
    (more…)

  • Coffee

    by

    , , 
    I like my coffee light
    with a distinct flavor of the roast,
    the hint of nut and cocoa wafting
    with the aroma of the earth
    and mellowed by milk.

    I take it in ice
    until it melts and loses all
    that makes it coffee.
    So sometimes I get it hot
    because when it cools down,
    it doesn’t lose its charm.

    I add syrups and sugars too
    because even as much as I like coffee,
    the bitter acidic embrace on my tongue
    makes me shrink back and turn away.

    Love truly is blind.
    (more…)

  • I’m Here

    by

    , , 
    When the sun breaks the dawn
    When the rooster first crows

    When morning traffic starts to congest
    When horns fill the urban theatre

    When screens boot up
    When clicks and clacks spit out words

    When the sun stands tip toe
    When the lunch rush clamor a riot

    When orange paints the sky
    When office hours tick tock to an end

    When the night falls
    When happy hour dances to music

    When the bed beckons
    When the clock sings its lullaby 

    When silence fills the void
    When the darkness echoes over
    (more…)

  • Stolen Time, Twisted World

    by

    , , 
    I swear I saw her cheeks blush
    in the light of the fluorescent
    that made the sunrise behind her
    seem insignificant.

    Her smile was bright and blinding
    and when she said, “Hi! Good morning!”
    everyone stopped and couldn’t help but smile back.

    Her lips were that lush red
    that belies roses held up in a bouquet
    and overshadowed the sun now setting behind her.

    Her eyes shone bright in the moonlight
    even as clouds crowd the moon.
    Time loses meaning, east turns to west,
    as I stare at the night sky in her eyes.
    (more…)

  • For Lack of Words

    by

    , , 
    I write you a letter where the blank spaces has all the words I want to say.
    (more…)

  • wish you were here

    by

    , , , 
    The grounds blurs in haste
    —like an arrow leaves the bow—
    the plane cannot stop.

        The warmth of the sun
        makes the sea a lot colder
        and the shore lonely.

    Mountains look as small
    as the hand, at hand, in hand,
    and still out of reach.

        The forest beckons
        the song of birds and insects
        wont of longing.

    Everything rushes
    up close and everywhere near
    at the journey’s end.
    (more…)

  • Watch

    by

    , , 
    A watch
    turns its hands
    in mourning
    for one circle then
    another and,
    until it grinds itself
    to disuse,
    it lives on.

    The watch
    keeps on
    lookout, stern
    and stoic; not
    betraying an emotion
    to make sure he mourns
    no one else
    that night and all
    nights to come.

    Those who watch
    unmoving
    mourns themselves
    their reflection
    on the glass.
    (more…)

  • Therapy

    by

    , , , 
    I sit there fiddling my thumbs, fidgeting on a cushion of needles trying to let out the colossal hoard of thoughts and worries that I’ve kept inside like a ship in a bottle. Wading through the perilous, meandering stretch crossing floods of memories through muddy relations on derailed trains of thoughts. Over the walls I’ve built.
    In this room, what’s said and heard, however much I let go, is as much as this room keeps with the two people here. This is a safe, a  room that serves as just a bigger confine of my mind.
    (more…)
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