i am a full-blooded
back of a turtle
my edges – rounded
perfectly fitting with
the tip of your thumb
picking each argentine
string of your euphony
playing soft music
but that had been
for a while,
i was smooth-edged,
comforting, soothing
not until
nylon turned scraped
and red turned pale;
my edges became that
of a shark’s fin –
prickly, wounding, hurting;
the old tune went wild;
i can’t make you play
the same sweet harmony
but you held on until
your cuts stopped bleeding
until you lost all the blood,
the beat that have kept 
you holding
you had to let me go –
for my relief, yours
until you realize that
your fingers could play
that song,
much better
without me





Don’t You Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow –
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out –
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

(c) Author

Don’t. You. Quit. 🙂

Beth: I don’t know if I even believe in that anymore. The right guy. The perfect guy. The one. I’ve lost faith in “the”.

Jennifer: How do you feel about “a” and “an”?

Beth: Indifferent.

Jennifer: So you’re considering a life without articles?

Beth: And true love.

-Attachments, R. Rowell

Love was

Love was a scribble

Every stroke so glumly done

So haphazard — that one

could ever be oblivious of

What the lines and curves

Would spell

Love is

Love is a couplet

Two lines that rhyme and fit

Words are its rock —

Sweet, reassuring, dearest

Hold right and tight the plume

And the couplet runs ceaseless

Love will be

Love will be these blank pages

Pure, and white and innocent

Forever it will be waiting

Until we write on it —

commas, apostrophes,

quotations, ellipsis



Spring in the City


I saw a crocus blooming in the park,

I felt a hint of magic in the air,

I heard faint music sighing everywhere,

And so, as all the world, grew softly dark—

I found again the hope that never dies,

And hungrily, without-flung arms,

I came once more to you.

And when you spoke my name

I read springtime eternal in your eyes!


-from Crossroads by Margaret Sangster