My Bubu Dream

“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.

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The Sixth Sense

“The Sixth Sense” by Esmond Ng © copyright 08/12/05

The first being you my eyes see,
That such is sense sweet of sight.
That Love they say blind is,
Nay I say for you not their visions find.

Secondly the serene sound of Thee,
Voice as choir concordant pleasing.
That all who chance hear of such music,
Shall no longer stray but choose near stay it.

Third my nose will first recognize,
That scent of fresh on Thy skin fine.
Which lingers as flowers in Spring,
Luscious I remember will always seem.

That fourth sense of touch never can forget,
The sensations when skins they match.
Cause hearts to beat uncontrollably,
And breaths hastened to the beats.

Only once did our lips meet,
Yet this fifth feeling is forever engraved deep.
The taste of innocent lips,
The pervading taste of Love’s reach.

Such are five senses commonly said,
But one more true that is the sixth.
That the one truth from the heart Love speaks,
Is the one which overrules all the preceding.

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Tea Leaves

“Tea Leaves” by Esmond Ng 12/05/05 © copyright

Away on slopes of different air,
Where ye painting on wall is really nature’s own;
Mountains line the pearly clouds,
That’s where my tea leaves grows’t.

The green that edges ye horizon,
The vast color of which serene grown;
Yet with each harvest that comes along,
Only the top leaves nonpareil.

Grey be by name my favorite tea,
Though woody and spicy it’s taste be;
Equivalent I say, it be Shiraz of tea,
But pleasure to palate it surely brings to Thee.

Like all good things Life which brings,
Thou needs really look beyond to see.
Appreciating the simple and ordinary,
Then and only pick the top few leaves.

Along midway sometimes grey it all seems,
Everything so looks going agains’t Thee.
Did I mention no rose beds amongs’t the leaves?
Hold on tight and God’s peace keep.

Even the best are cropp’d and trimm’d,
But like tea leaves they never cease;
Seasons, grows’t and flourishes once again.
So really, should Thee.

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