AnnaSophia Robb

Monday, March 9, 2009

The Old Forlorn

There was a forlorn old man,
Who lived in dirty, big piece of can.
He owned nothing, but his old socks,
And his skillful painting knacks.

One day, he was starving to death,
He looked down and just heaved deep breaths,
He put his hat on and departed,
Looking for some place where he’ll be cared.

But cruelty beyond doubt, the world proved,
As the old man, begged for food.
They stomped and stormed off,
Leaving him, shaking by the cold.

He walked out and found a corner in the street,
There he sat, feeling his heart beat.
After a while, his stomach growled.
Hunger had reached her brain, no doubt.

He stood up again and ambled,
While stumbling, he found a piece of paper, crumpled.
He opened it and delight etched across his face,
It was an unfinished drawing, just starting the phase.

He hurried back home, trembling.
Holding the drawing, smiling.
He got his old pencil and continued,
As he scratched the drawing’s prelude.

After finishing it, he smiled,
He smoothed the paper, and glide.
In a particular crowded intersection,
With a sign “For Sale”, he raised the drawing on.

The people smirked and laughed,
But still, his face stood up.
One gentleman came,
He said the drawing was lame.

But the old man could see,
That they still haven’t seen the art clearly,
He stretched the slightly wrinkled paper,
And held it high again, ignoring the jeerers.

Hours passed, he was hopeless,
Until beautiful mistress,
Appeared with such kind face,
And asked how much will it cost.

The old man said nothing,
He was just standing there, until morning.
He wasn’t moving a muscle,
Everybody stood there, bedazzled.

They could see from the old man’s eyes,
That he never –ever- been such cowardice.
The people gathered around the wonder,
Paid their respects for the old man, the brave and the goner.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Summer pour

Andante - Mozart

First off, I want to tell every one,
I hate summer and its blazing sun.
It’d burned my face, sweltered it with sweat,
I could hardly catch my breath.

I lived in a town,
Simple, yet could tire you down.
‘Cause it’s under the majestic posture
Of the ungrateful, blazing sun, ‘course I’m sure.

Yet –and yet- I’d loved being in here,
As long as I’m with my little sister, Kim.
And together, we’ll take a shower,
Fighting the heat, turning it over.

She was four and was cute,
She looked like my mother yeah it’s the truth.
She loves red dresses
And my mum’s sweet caresses.

My mother died in cancer,
Yes, I so much hate her.
Leaving me and Kim alone,
But luckily now I’m grown.

I took her position as a guardian,
Caring Kim, telling her how to be a good woman.
She obeyed me a lot,
So, mum, I still haven’t forgot.

We both love to rain that day, I remembered.
Singing a song, we want rain be delivered.
Oh! I hate the summer and its blazing sun,
Please, let the heat cool down and be gone!

She slept and I slept with her,
In my arms, she felt I was her protector.
I could feel her breathe,
I could smell her rosy cheek.

She once told me, that she lost her favorite ribbon,
I woke up, one night, turning the stove on when I found
The ribbon, swaying outside,
So to make her please, I quickly stride.

But the windswept took the ribbon away,
So I have to run for it as it swayed.
Far and far, it brought me,
Completely forgotten the fire, oh gee!

Therefore, when I came back,
I saw nothing but black.
Smoke covered the house,
Felt the horror through my brain it rushed.

I quickly came for Kim, my sister,
But the man beside, grabbed my shoulder.
“It’s too late, the fire had spread.”
Saw the pity on his face as he said.

I screamed like hell,
Shouting my sister’s name,
“Kim! Kim! Kim!”
But I’m a hopeless grim.

In my hand, I held the ribbon,
The tears, ungrateful it was, fell down.
The summer season had poured its rain,
Yes, I could feel coldness on my veins.

I didn’t manage to say goodbye,
So all I did was to cry and cry.
For my sister, Kim, my sister.
Yes, that’s the reason why I hate summer.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Hearty Woods

He was ten and she was nine,
When their deep friendship began.
They love to play in the misty depths of Heart Woods
It became the scene of their childhood.

He was a joker and she was serious,
Their contrast brought unexpected hues
She loves to laugh and he loves adventures,
They deserve each other, not some kind of indenture.

In the Hearty Woods, where they play,
Their love blossomed, somehow, someway.
He was flattered and so was she,
A pact forged, fore’er should stay.

As he climbed the tree, she was cheering,
As she swam the lake, he was laughing.
Happiness flooded thy hearts,
Proved none can tear them apart.

Years had passed and days died out,
The fun ceased as they grown, no doubt.
Still, they met in the misty depths of Hearty Woods,
Yes, ‘Cos it’s the scene of their childhood.

He was handsome and she was lovely,
She was still serious and he was still funny.
And their love- oh love- blooming with beauty,
Had put to an end when she said she was leaving.

He cried and cried,
Watching her back while, she strides,
Walking away from his arms from now,
Not being sure how he will survive somehow…

More years had passed and days died out,
The memories of the joy they had, never ceased, no doubt.
In their hearts, the happiness still lingers,
In their soul, promised friendship still flutters.

He had a wife and she had a man,
He had a daughter and she had a son.
And yes, they’ve shared the amity they had before,
How their love grew and ends, forever.

In the misty depths of Hearty Woods,
Where their adolescent childhood blossomed,
His daughter and her son,
Met and decided to continue what they’d begun.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Spring's Bloom

The spring already came,
Oh! The cherry blossoms could say.
My stone heart, melted by the breeze,
Nature’s breath that’ll really please.

I was standing at the bridge
Before I saw a little girl, around three.
She was smiling and humming,
Strumming and striding.

She stopped at a corner of the river,
When she spotted this little flower.
She grinned at it, with pity,
So she got a can and watered it.

Looking gratified, she dropped herself,
Beside the flower, so I ask myself,
“Kids these days are weird, right?”
Then I turned away and departed, looking bright.

The next day, I came back,
Then saw again, the girl caring the plant with her knack,
Therefore, I watched her again,
Bored but well entertained.

I left without a word,
I’m satisfied and so was she, I know.
Oh! The spring really came,
Yes, the cherry blossom and the children could say.

Looking for morale, I came back.
Smiling, she was there, with her plant-caring knack.
I couldn’t help but to think,
Such wonder can give by the pleasant spring.

One day, it rained so hard,
The thunder growled, like glass turning into shard
She was crying,
As the flower seemed to be dying.

The ungrateful rush of flood,
Was killing the flower’s fragile bud.
I was sad too
For the girl and for her flower too.

It happened before it did,
The girl ran, I was stuck, lurid.
She ran for her flower,
Even the waters are a lot bigger.

I was scared for her,
So I did ran after,
To save her and her flower
With all my might and power.

There was a great flash of water,
Then poor girl was sent down under
The killing river.
I was shocked and cried for her.

She did not emerge from the flood,
But there wasn’t a drop of blood.
I dived and searched,
Hours passed, my quest blurred.

Her pursuit, for the simple thing,
That brought joy in her life, I think.
Inspires me, yes, as the spring came and leave,
You could see it, the way the children did.

Then I found her cold,
In her hand, she holds
The symbol of spring, the prettiest flower.
That had changed my life, forever…

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Far From Her

so far away Pictures, Images and Photos

The weather is calm, that day. Trees, birds and all, were glad as the soft breeze of nature, scattered everywhere. I was sitting in a park, watching the people as they passed by. Friends, families… all were wearing the expression of deepest content, as though there is hope glimmering around the midst.
In the middle of my reverie, she came. Sitting under a shady tree, she was smiling to herself. I was stunned and can’t move a muscle. Is this the love… at first sight? I tried to walk, but my feet are rooted in a position that I could only watch her. My muscles are not doing right and my brain seemed to be jammed that time.
Then our eyes met and lingered for a few minutes. My heart is on fire and I could feel my face going scarlet. I simply smiled but she kept looking at me… memorizing every bits of my face. Suddenly she beamed back. I could feel my heart explode with happiness. I looked down, cursing my feet. But when I snap my sight back to her again, she was gone.

That was the first time I felt that amazing sensation. Hoping for another rematch, I went back there. However, she wasn’t a shadow of her. I was frustrated. Still, I came back the next day and the next until weeks had passed, and unfortunately, there’s no sign of her.
I tried to give up once, but my head is contaminated by her memories. So to please myself, I tried to remember the way she sat under the tree, her facial expression and the smile… the gorgeous smile. It’s like solving a one million piece of jigsaw puzzle.
Is it over?

Months had passed when I found her there. Nevertheless, she wasn’t wearing the expression she got the last time I saw her. She was silently crying. All I want now is to comfort her… so again, I moved my feet so I can get close.
Then I realized; I was just… a stranger for her and she was for me. Who am I to cross the threshold? I was nothing, nothing than an obsessed man who fell in love with her loveliness. I backed out my left foot and then the right.
Once again, our eyes hit each other. The blazing fire that I felt before are now cold. Tears cascading from her eyes down the rosy cheek. I could not bear to watch her so I turned myself away and left without a word.

I never came back to that place again. However, the memories hunted me, especially at night. Did I do the right thing? It’s the question that continued to bugged me as the days died out. My lips always said, I did but there’s a corner, in my body, that always says… I need her. A corner in my miserable and worthless body…
My heart won.
So I went back, and felt the pleasing breeze on my face. And there, I saw her again. She was happy, judging the way she smiles and the sparkle of her eyes. The way she laughs with the man sitting beside her.
I did not show myself that day. I merely sighed and smiled. Did I do right thing now? I asked myself as I left. I guess I did.

A Poem For Her

AnnaSophia Robb Pictures, Images and Photos

The goddess of beauty,
In her form, oh thee!
The ambrosial smell, out of this mundane, unaware,
The complexion of diamond fair,
I could not ask for nothing more,
She is perfect, even perfect than before.
One in a million,
Will fit the searched expression.
Is there a way, I wonder?
That I could even touch her?
Yeah, she’s covered with a radiant aura,
And me? Stuck in a form of hatred fauna!
She’s like a rainbow that could only be seen,
But cannot be touch by bare skin.
Like the butterfly wings,
Like the multihued wonder of the polar borealis.
She brought the colors in my life,
Her loveliness, that glitters with the spotlight
No other mortal could surpass
Her gleaming splendor that forever would last.
Exaggerated I am, right now,
Think only this of me: that somehow
When the time has come,
Even I say I am a dirty piece of humdrum,
That the ecstatic glow
Of her body, hell I know,
Found its way on my midst
And gave me the prospect of a kiss.
Then I’ll be the luckiest of all,
However, I started something from small!

My Friend, Annie

painting of child ballerina Pictures, Images and Photos

Some fifteen years ago, I had a friend named Annie. She was probably the strongest girl I’ve ever fortunate to meet. Strong in the way she faced death without hesitation and full of valor. She’s a simple, caring girl who loves my jokes. In fact, she was my best friend and my first love.
When we were ten, we made this pact: The one, who will reach the top of the mountain, will be the strongest human in the world. That was before she had this disease called acute lymphoma. Before the discovery of her illness, she always had this fever and itchy-looking red patches will appear on her skin. I thought it was normal. I mean, all kids do become ill sometimes … but not as severe as her’s. They would always take her to the hospital and her mother would cry so much. That time, I don’t know that she was having a hard time because most of the time I was with her, we are always laughing and teasing.
One time, when we were having a normal conversation, she was lying on her bed; I asked her, “What’s wrong with your mother? She was crying all the time.”
“She’s just scared because of me having this strange sickness. They said that the red and white dots in my body are multiplying like mad, forming a large red blockage on my veins.” She said with a little hand gesture as though it was a joke. I just laugh.
“What are veins?”
“They’re tubes where the blood passes.” she answered.
“The dots…you said there are red and white dots in our body. What is it?”
“I dunno. They said that the white dots in my body are more than the red ones. The red should be greater, though.”
“Does it mean you’ll gonna…gonna…”
“Die, yeah”
“Ha ha ha! I’m just joking. We still have a promise, right? We’ll climb that mountain and become the strongest human in the world!” she said happily ignoring my horrified reaction. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What does heaven looks like?”
I shrugged.
“That means we have go hiking to find out what it looks!” she said, smiling.
“It’s dangerous for us and you are sick.”
“So what? I could still walk with my own feet.” She said pulling herself up. I thought it was okay until she stumbled and fell. “Maybe not.”
Again, I just smiled.

They took her to the hospital and her mother said she’ll be there for two weeks. I asked why and Annie answered, “They’ll burn the large spots on my blood tubes. So brace yourself.”
“It’ll hurt so much, right?”
“Not really. I will be sleeping when they’ll do that burning stuff.”
Then I saw her wave at me, making me cry like a baby. The moment their car was out of sight, I started to think that maybe it was the last time we’ll see each other. Please, no.
They promised that she’ll be here after two weeks, but months had passed and still, she’s not back. I was so sad that time. Without my playmate, I could not enjoy the beauty of autumn. Most of the time, I was alone, looking at the mountain that we were suppose climb together. I thought it was over.
After six months, she indeed, came back. However, I can hardly recognize her. Her face was white and, to my surprise, she was bald! She was sitting on a wheel chair with an anguished expression as though she had come out from a fierce battle. To nobody’s surprise, her mother started to cry again.

Annie spends each passing days by staring blankly outside and listening stories about heavens and angels. She didn’t talk much but merrily nodded and smiled whenever I would say my half-a-year-planned punch lines. “Ready for the off?” I said. She looked at me, raising her eyebrows. Her eyes were expressionless and she had dark shadows under it like a ghost or something. She’s still Annie, though.
“What are you talking about?” she muttered, saying the words with great difficulty.
“We’ll climb the mountain, tomorrow. What, you can’t w-walk?” I said, tears flowing.
She nodded.
“Then I’ll carry y-you! There’s no p-problem.” I said jubilantly, red-eyed and staggering.
She shook her head.
“What? Just because you’re sick that means you can’t be the strongest –“
She nodded, again. I felt angry. I want to punch her for making my life miserable. But I can’t. I know she doesn’t deserve this but she’s still suffering. I can’t bear watching her curled in pain, shouting for pain-relievers and being afraid of death.
That day, she said to me the words I will never forget.
“Pray to God. I’ll be with Him soon.”

She died on May 16, 1985. The sun was up that day and the sky was clear. The wind is gentle and the summer breeze ruled the air. She was cremated and her family moved out to make a fresh start.
Me? I don’t even know where to begin.
After her funeral, I climbed the promised mountain, with her ashes. Full of grief and unendurable sadness, I sat in a wood stump at the summit, holding her powdery remains. The wind blew making my hair ruffled and untidy. I was just gazing at the majestic clouds that seemed to be so near; I think I could touch it with my hands.
“What does heaven looks like, Annie?” I asked myself. Then another surge of wind whooshed and wiped the clouds away revealing the clear sky. Tears fell but this time, I had a broad smile etched on my face.
Annie is the strongest girl in the world. She reached the top of this mountain before me. She even touched the sky and kissed God’s face…
Where is she now? I think you already knew where.