yellow shirt

From the Poetry Room at City Lights Bookstore

"Look at me," says the yellow shirt
across the window. A book in hand,
I merely offer it a glance or two
Afraid to break the spell that binds me
to this word-lit room.

Too late now, while the pages turn
in a blur and all I see is the yellow shirt
hanging over the fire escape, a splash of
color in a backdrop of fading paint and rust
"I have a story," it seems to say.

So I put the book down and listen
while the yellow shirt whispers a
tale of an immigrant family, a father
who works as a cook in a dimsum
restaurant nearby, a mother who goes
to an adult school at night, and their
5 year-old daughter who translates for them
in her accented English.

just want to say

that I love, love, love Jason Mraz:

It might take some time to come back
to reality are seeing (and touching!)
him at The Fillmore last Saturday night ~
so please forgive my silence and enjoy
this beautiful song instead.


Photo from Teen Vouge Prom '08

I saw this prom picture over at Oh Happy Day and I immediately had flashbacks of high school. Unlike some, I didn't really go through the angsty adolescent stage and high school was a happy, memorable one for me. My friends and I spent most of our free time going to the beach, swapping books, rummaging thrift shops, writing crappy short stories - mostly fun, fun times. We still laugh so hard when we think about all our crazy (read: geeky) adventures.

So here is a poem for NaPoWriMo today.

* * *

Prom King

The only time
he looked at her
across the crowded
ballroom, she soon
forgot her name,
her too stiff hair,
how she wobbled in
her too high heels,
how her lipstick was
a shade too dark
for her pale skin,
how she tried to hide
her crooked teeth
when she smiled -

Caught in the spell
of her fairytale moment,
she soon forgot

how her king
was already dancing
with his queen.

first date

stealing a glance
while reading the menu --
her stomach grumbles.

NaPoWriMo #2

across the bridge

There's a city hidden
in a sea of fog.
She rises like a dream
and keeps my eyes open
to the joy of waking.

I am Dorothy in the Land of Oz.

* * *

This is a response to the prompt "overheard" for ReadWritePoem. Some time last month, I overheard one of the kids at work talking to his friend about how much he loves the morning drive from his house to school because "the buildings look like a foggy Emerald City". I taught about this again last Sunday while driving across the Golden Gate Bridge, hence the inspiration for this small poem.

Note: So I guess this is also my contribution for NaPoWriMo today. I tried to write another one but I couldn't finish it. Oh dear, and its only Day 1. What have I gotten myself into? =)