Our head maybe small, but like the sky that filled with billion of stars, it contains billions of sweet and sad memories; and we actively add more and more memories to our head from time to time. Like newspaper our head treats the memories in a discriminate way based their importance. Some memories serve as headline, displayed in capital letters, bigger and bold fonts, making an everlasting impression in our life. Some memories filled the back pages with small prints, leaving no significant trace in our mind.

With billions of memories (and constantly increased moment by moment) in our head storage system, it is fortunate for us that we have a gift of oblivion. We forget some of the memories indiscriminately especially those who on the back pages. But some memories especially those on the headline are immune to the power of oblivion. Unfortunately we can not control this system of oblivion, we can not choose which memories we want to forget, which ones that we want to keep. Sometimes we have some memories that we want so bad to get rid of from our head inventory but they stubbornly linger there mocking at our futile effort to flush them away.


When I think of life over and over
The very thought of death comes along
Money is the stake to play the game of luck
Death is the stake to play the game of life

When the word “possessing” comes to my mind
The word “losing” follows close at it heels
Everything has its own value or price
“Losing” is the price we have to pay for “possessing

When I befriend happiness
Soon sadness will be my companion
Night faithfully follows the day
Sadness faithfully follows happiness

So I learn to look lightly on life
Hoping at the end
I can look lightly on death

I try my best not to put any claim
Hoping at the end
Fewer things can be taken away from me

I strive not to overdo in happiness
Hoping at the end
Sadness will not overdo me

Ghazal : Love and poem

Poem and love is two sides of a coin to me

Speaking of poem is also speaking of love for me

If you haven’t fallen in love before

Then please, don’t speak of poem to me

If you haven’t felt the pang of separation with the beloved

Then please spare my time don’t discuss any poem with of me

If you haven’t tasted the joy of meeting with your lover

Then please, don’t’ waste your time talking about poem with me

If you haven’t trembled in fear in front of lover’s wrath

Then please, stop bragging about poem’s beauty in front of me

If you haven’t suffered the pain of a broken heart

Then please, stop mention about poem in front of me

Oh, “Ceblonk” this poem has too many ‘me’

If poem is love, there should be no “me”