Dear Blog, please don't complain that I am just planting wrinkles on your face. You already have your own worries, I know. And I have my own mistress. Let's call it even?
on the first day
lost in a crackle of flames,
lost in a crackle of flames,
a circle of rainbow*, bow
to a few lumps of brown mud
floating like the year passed,
almost forgotten to be flushed.
*"A crackle of flames, A Circle of Rainbow" - Selected poems from Mohamed Latiff Mohamed
*"A crackle of flames, A Circle of Rainbow" - Selected poems from Mohamed Latiff Mohamed
P.S.: What is the value of the past, after digestion that is, when it is the present that matters?
I almost gave up writing. In response in an online forum which triggers memories of struggle and self-doubts, I re-write my past (literally) and fortify my determination. Just enjoy playing with words, I wrote, playing with words.
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