Comfort | esmondng.com

“You”

Author esmondng on October 23rd, 2011

“You” by Esmond Ng 23/10/11 © Copyright

It breaks yet it mends.
It distresses while it soothes.
It evokes pain but dishes comfort.
It I love to hate and hate to love.

“My Bubu Dream”

Author esmondng on July 22nd, 2008

“My Bubu Dream” by Esmond Ng copyright © 11/08/06

Sugary most not definitely,
Taste if sweetened bifold still lacking.
Why Time still bitter bids me chimera,
When all in alpha was such heavenly.

What more a man can be?
When in dreams his stance airs not his belief.
In reverie when vagary permits,
He chooses silence yet to speak.

They say dreams best for utopian schemes,
Where you are master of all it.
Then why not did I stage a better hit,
Why chose I a tragic love misfit?

I comfort though in succor of relief,
That Thee I glimpsed in beaming bliss.
For this I may never awaken see,
If not my lucid Bubu dream.

In glee, my joyous soul longeth for Thee;
To share and savor each victory with Thou art and only.
That each becomes a pleasantly sweet memory,
One which I can in retrospect say: “Ah, I did that with Thee!”

In melancholy, my woeful heart’s voice calls for Thee,
To find solace and comfort when Thee beside me.
That Thou’s assuring voice and hug can be just as sugary,
As ye sunshine smile when I set eyes on my lovely.

Where art Thou when I so pined for Thee?
Where art Thou when moments I so wished spent along my baby?
That I could have so much more pleasing dreamings,
Where art Thou when I wish you with me?

“Having the same dream”

Author esmondng on July 22nd, 2008

My friend, siLLyeGG wrote the following:

“She” © 17/08/05
She may be the onli one I ever need
Except that she is now wif another kidz
Loving her secretly was not that sweet
In my mind I have feel the heat
Not knowing of what she may thinks
Alone I stay and continue my dream…
-eGG-

No offense but in some way, we share the same dream. In response:

“Having the same dream” by Esmond Ng © copyright 19/08/05

My dream from awaken from slumber sweet,
Yet it be like still in drowse this romantic reverie.
She may be another’s only and ever need;
Else that, however her heart already with me.
Lest I be just some other simpleton kid,
I believe it be more than child’s play that me she fancies.
Not at all secret that Thou’s Love for her scorned in heat,
Agree I, that loving her is no easy feat.
Again reality painfully bites when arisen from sleep,
Not alone you, I too find solace so comforting in dreams.
Deem us Shakespeare’s blinding fools we both be,
Men in Love never really could objectively see.
Else why would He say: “…so is all nature in love mortal in folly.”

“What is Love?”

Author esmondng on July 22nd, 2008

Was inspired to write this through my friend’s wedding earlier this year. I remember that a big group of us were invited to the dinner. Being the “official” group, we actually made his life very difficult. The emcee, who was also one of us decided to bombard him with a host of obstacles and questions before he can reach the stage to cut the cake.

Of the questions, there was one that struck me particularly. “How much do you love your wife?” After some pondering, he said: “Deeper than the ocean, wider than the sea.” So I asked myself. “If I were asked the very same question, what would my answer be?”

On my accustom’d bed laid I, grimly darks’t only moonshine through curtain slits;
My mind wonders’t, ponders and travels far within.
Of the meagre light shone, cast dainty a shadow on my wall facing.
Could this be my shadow? The shadow which of me speaks.

Thus called I out to him. “What be Love? My dear man, please forward me.”
“What be Love to you do you deem?”

“Is all talk about oceans deep and mountains steep that true Love sits?”
“Or rather the eye of Love’s first sight; a feeling from within?”
“Maybe, even a warm fuzzy heat that burns like fire uncontroll’d?”
“At the very least, it must be some form of comfort, familiarity and ease?”

Then my shadow spoke: “What be it really to you, Love?”
“The most important person and thing to you think of.”

As I laid, close my eyes and a tear roll’d it’s way out.
For at that tear’d instance knew I, what I’d say if asked.
“How much you, do Love me?”
My answer be: “More than myself deep.”