Goodbye, Goodye

I've read a very sad story about Love many years ago, when I was still at the verge of discovering the treasures written words have with them. It's about a man who wasn't able to move on from a lost Love with her ex-girlfriend to the point that he kept visiting her every year just to see her-now with children of her own and a husband who existed faraway-but a husband still. His visits became an annual ritual for the kids and for the woman. But the man and the woman are both aware that the yearly visits will always end with the man saying, "Goodbye", and the woman ending it with a sad "Goodbye".

This poem is for people who made Goodbye a source of life-a life full of what if's and could have beens.

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There are some who

live life after they have found

that someone special.

Well, I started living mine

when I lost that someone.

My friends tell me that

I should do the right thing

and put it behind me.

Get on with my life

with the hopes of finding

the new someone who'll

make me forget about my last.

But I can't do it. I just can't.

I know few people understand

what I'm going through.

Some fake sympathy and concern.

Bollocks!

Through each passing year

I've always visited 

my special someone.

Not with hopes of the two of us

getting back together

-which is impossible and preposterous.

My special someone already has kids.

Three of them.

I love those kids. I truly do.

I treat them like my

own every time I visit once a year.

When the time to part comes, I focus.

I take in the voice and the eye contact.

That's the only time I exist.

Imagine? I only feel alive once a year

- at about a few seconds.

It didn't matter that 

the only words we were always

saying were Goodbyes.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

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*Picture from http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KDtM28ScAEU/SxPcOS-WxwI/AAAAAAAAAD8/2SWsE5B5JKI/s1600/Goodbye.jpg

Forgotten/Oublié

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I'm trying to remember

Your name.

But it eludes me.

I don't know why.

What I can remember

Is that I used to love you

And you used to love me too.

I think there is a big chance

You don't remember 

My name at all,

The way I do with yours

. I know there was 

A time when all I think

About is you and 

That feels a millennium ago.

The kisses we shared

Are now dull memories

Of a once lovely past,

Of a past where 

I have gladly memorized

The curves on your face

And the frequency of your smiles.

All that are now 

Gray specks to our once

Colorful relationship.

But what is your name?

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Oublié

(French Translation)

J'essaye de me rappeler

Votre nom.

Mais il m'élude.

Je ne sais pas pourquoi.

Ce que je peux me rappeler

Est ce que j'avais l'habitude de vous aimer

Et vous aviez l'habitude d'aimer imitation.

Je pense qu'il y a une grande chance

Vous ne vous rappelez pas 

Mon nom du tout,

La manière que je fais avec le vôtre

. Je sais qu'il y avait 

Un moment où tous que je pense

Au sujet de est vous et 

Cela se sent il y a un millénium.

Les baisers que nous avons partagés

Sont maintenant les mémoires mates

D'un passé une fois beau,

Du passé d'a où 

J'ai heureusement mémorisé

Les courbes sur votre visage

Et la fréquence de vos sourires.

Tout qui sont maintenant 

Points gris au notre une fois

Rapport coloré.

Mais quel est votre nom ? 

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*Picture from http://www.shayjtoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/lost-art-2-590x400.jpg

Voyeur

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I look at you.

It's what I do.

From the moment I wake

Until the time I say my prayers at night.

Even in my dreams I look at you.

I look for you.

In the corners of my subconscious

It is you that I seek.

The contours of your face

When you smile

And the hint of hesitation in your voice

Whenever you ask for directions

Are like second skin to me.

It has become me.

But there are times 

That I can't help but notice

How happy you are when 

You're with him

That the smile I dearly love

Is prompted by someone else,

That everytime I look at you

I do my best not to see him too.

I only look at you.

But you and him are one

So I guess I look at him too.

And that hurts me most.
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Spanish Version

Le miro.

Es lo que lo hago.

A partir del momento despierto

Hasta el tiempo digo mis rezos en la noche.

Incluso en mis sueños le miro.

Le busco.

En las esquinas de mi subconsciente

Es usted que busco.

Los contornos de su cara

Cuando usted sonríe

Y la indirecta de la vacilación en su voz

Siempre que usted pida direcciones

Sea como la segunda piel a mí.

Me ha sentido bien.

Pero hay épocas 

Que no puedo dejar notar

Cómo es feliz usted es cuándo 

Usted está con él

Que el amor de la sonrisa I querido

Es incitado por algún otro,

Eso cada vez que le miro

Hago mi mejor para no verlo también.

Le miro solamente.

Pero usted y él son uno

Conjeturo tan que lo miro también.

Y ese me lastima más.

 

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*Picture from http://www.soc.ucsb.edu/sexinfo/images/09-07-binoculars.jpg

Surrender /Entrega (Spanish Version)

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Please do not look at me.

Because when you do,

All the resolve that I've tried

To muster suddenly vanishes into oblivion.

I feel helpless and weak.

Those eyes make me

A prisoner to their beauty,

Life, and mystery.

Tempting me to forego

All the doubts I have inside.

Urging me to give in.

But no matter how

I try not to fall for you,

I fail, for in those eyes

I see a future where

I feel I belong- where I want to belong.

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No me mire por favor.

Porque cuando usted lo hace,

Toda la resolución que he intentado

Para reunir repentinamente desaparece en el olvido.

Siento desamparado y débil.

Esos ojos me hacen

Un preso a su belleza,

Vida, y misterio.

Tentación de mí para renunciar

Todas las dudas que tengo adentro.

Impulsándome dar adentro.

Pero no importa cómo

Intento no caerme para usted,

Fallo, para en esos ojos

Veo un futuro donde

Siento que pertenezco donde quiero pertenecer.

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*Picture from http://gideonidea.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/total-surrender-photographic-print-c12269788.jpeg

Time to Love

Budding relationships grow.

In arms, in hearts, in eyes in trees,

But does anyone know when to

Love and when not to?

When to start then pursue

And when to pause and give adieu?

Are there guidelines on Love

So that you'll not make a 

Fool of yourself, of others, of every one.

Why is it that IQ scores can

Never be used for the heart?

Clearly love isn't scientific.

Yet it can be measured.

Though not with the English or

Metric System.

Only the heart can size it up.

But when is the right time to 

Fall in love?

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*Picture from http://chikki.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/loving-hands-photographic-print-c12153830.jpg

Waiting

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Long dull hours, minutes and seconds

Stretching the patience I wish I had.

Moments so dim that

The pot of gold at the end

Of the rainbow turned to brass,

Dessert oasis' suddenly dried,

Silken jet black hair became gray,

And clocks ticked

But time stood still.

The heart yearned for that only voice,

The only touch, only smile, only kiss.

It longs for the time to be with you.

When hours, minutes, and even seconds

Flash by so fast.

So rapid and quick.

But when I'm not with you

It's totally different.

Sometimes I try to copy that,

I close my eyes and imagine you beside me,

Holding my hand and 

Blowing me kisses.

How I wish I can always do that,

That I'm always lucky to achieve that.

What can I do but wish and dream?

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*Picture from http://www.jckonline.com/sites/default/files/legacy/photo/170/170479-17_Waitingroom_Inv.gif

Age-Old Courting

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It started with a glance.

With a lot of it, for that matter.

Pulling me into a duel

Where I started out as an 

Unwilling participant.

It continued with more glances.

Still with lots of it.

Burning me with an 

Invisible fire only

The two of us can feel.

The glances stopped.

Things went a notch further.

But I didn't initiate it.

The countless glances were for that.

So, I waited like a hunter waits for his prey.

Now's the time to mention

The other dueler.

The one who clearly tries so hard

To mark the territory that 

Unfortunately, desires the hunter.

That's when the eye daggers

Started hitting me.

Cold, blunt and direct.

But what can a mere dog who marks his 

Territory do against a hunter who has mastered the craft?

Nothing.

Exactly.

The inevitable happened.

The prey went for the bait.

As expected.

Clueless and Ignorant.

The time has come to finish this off.

With a smile and more quick glances

I sealed the deal.

I didn't do it.

It was the prey who did it.

But we really know who did it, right?

The loser dog left

And stated licking his wounds.

I can't blame the dog.

It didn't know what it was up against.

Like the prey, the dog was clueless.

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*Picture from http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/6000/6021/fencing_6_lg.gif