The presents sat beneath,
so delicately entwined.
A little face, lay in anxious wait
for the present she would find.

Before she would delve herself,
another small face drew close.
A smile, he warmly portrayed
as her cheeks grew pinkish-rose.

“It’s Chris, miss,” he said,
as he handed a modest gift.
Lily was pleasantly surprised
at his smiles, quick and swift.

Many Christmases did pass,
and the seeds of love did sow.
They always met at that very spot
underneath the mistletoe.

This poem is a tribute to a timeless song and one of my favourites – The piano man by Billy Joel. I hope I’ve done it justice. Let me know what you think

There’s a rhythm in the air;
the kind that is seldom heard.
A tune so harnessed by care
drowning every hatred word.

For this tune, it is pleasing
to the ear and to the thought.
Its listeners now healing
from the battles life has brought.

A tune so ever forgiving,
turning every man’s regret
into shards of cigar shavings
and drops of laboured sweat.

A tune, so reminiscent
sparking all the old wise men;
to recall the good times spent
with their once younger brethren.

The pretty girls blush away,
as the tune follows their glance
to eager hands, proud and brave,
proposing a couple’s dance.

Dreamers who once abandoned
their hopes in drunken despair
now claim their faith as hardened.
Their resolve, beyond compare.

There’s one man behind it all
where atop the stage he plays;
never failing to enthrall
his audience from their daze.

For they know not to worry,
they are in for a delight.
So live, dance and be merry;

the Piano Man is here tonight.

I’ve become so interested in writing short stories lately. This is my first attempt at writing a story that’s completely made up by me! Hope you enjoy!

I knew I would be late. But it was only when I actually did look at the clock that I realized with a sudden shock and I yelped, “Oh no! I’m really late!”

I was supposed to be at Nina’s house in another 15 minutes and normally, it would take at least 25 minutes to reach there. Being late would mean that Nina’s impression of me would go down. And I couldn’t possibly let that happen. Ever.

I quickly slapped some hair gel on my hands and lathered it on my hair as I would butter on toast (but without a knife, of course). I took a look at myself in the mirror to make sure I seemed decent. And then another quick gander, this time to keep my posture in check. After a few more couple of poses and last minute hair-waving, I finally decided to leave the house.

I wore my old blue jeans, nearly completely faded but only up to a point where people could still make out that the colour of blue still partially existed on the garment. These were my lucky jeans and they got me through a messy stint with a cake, an embarrassing brush with the law for under-age driving and now hopefully it would help in impressing Nina.

I wore my sneakers and tied the lace, all with such swift accuracy that by the time I realized that I was wearing two totally different pieces of sneaker footwear, I was already halfway to Nina’s place. I just prayed to God hoping that Nina wouldn’t notice. I got off at the bus-stop near Nina’s house and then strode towards her front door. I was ready to make contact. I was constantly checking and re-affirming that my back was straight and my hair was wavy enough. Assuring myself of the optimum state at which I will be able to present myself to Nina, I rang the doorbell and waited to be greeted by the sweet scented air of Nina – my crush.

“Hey, Patrick!” She greeted me in her usual sweet and chirpy voice. She was wearing a brown coloured dress. The type which was a frock and also a top at the same time. She looked quite pretty. “Hey, Nina,” I calmly replied. “I hope I’m not too late.” I quickly yet discreetly removed my shoes and hid them somewhere around the flower pots at the entrance to her house.

“No, not at all, 5 minutes isn’t that late,” she said. And I suddenly felt so grateful for her kind and gracious words.

She seemed really anxious for some reason. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But whatever it was, I knew it was something big. Nina was in ‘excited’ mode now and she constantly stressed her forehead until those stress lines could be noticed. She also kept twirling her brownish burgundy streaked hair until she formed curls that rolled up her ears. These traits of hers made her all the more cute.

“Charleston is on his way right now,” she excitedly proclaimed.

“Charleston? Sounds great.” I was trying to hide my deep curiosity as to who could possibly possess such a name. I tried putting off various possibilities of Princes or English-accented young good-looking men. I kept my face as calm as I could, trying not to feel intimidated by that. I was secretly hoping that this ‘Charleston’ would be some small adorable kid, perhaps a distant cousin.

“Yea, he’s so awesome. He’s really handsome. He’s got beautiful golden hair and he’s really intelligent. You’d really love meeting him.” Her voice now quirky as ever, but this time with a slight hint of increased pitch in her tone.

“Seems like a great guy. I’m looking forward to it,” I said, with a seemingly confident voice. But with an even more menacing doubt in my head. This guy didn’t sound like any cousin that she would be having over. Had it been that, she would have commented on how cute his face was or something like that. Nevertheless, I kept my hands firmly clasped to my jeans as we were sitting in her spacious hall.

“He’ll be quite happy to see you. He’s really friendly and gets along well with everyone. He’s quite popular with the kids too.” Her eyes beamed with such great admiration for that seemingly sparkling individual.

“I’m sure he is. So when is he going to be making his grand arrival?” I was not really as eager for his arrival as I sounded.

Nina responded to me with dark brown eyes twinkling as bright as her overjoyed mood while in wait of Charleston. “My sis is driving him here as we speak. Aw, I can’t wait for him to come! I’m so in love with him, Patrick!”

I was completely and utterly darkened by this. I knew Nina since we were both 7. We were best friends. It was only until her last year at her 17th Birthday that I actually realized that I was developing these feelings for her. And now, these feelings that I had harboured for her would mean nothing. All because of some new blond-haired guy with a fancy name.

Sure, she didn’t know that I liked her and she always knew that she could confide in me over any matter. But this seemed all so sudden and I was caught unaware. I started to think well, maybe it was never meant to be. I didn’t reply but instead just gave slight nod.

I discreetly sighed to let go of my agony as much as I could and tried to avoid letting Nina notice my despair. Not that she would actually pay any attention to it, seeing as she was so fixated on that guy Charleston – that lucky jerk.
If he was as good as Nina said he was, why was her sister driving him? Couldn’t he drive himself if he was so ‘wonderful’? Not that I had a license either, but I failed my Drivers’ Ed tests 2 times.

I thought that having high expectancies about this person would be quite advantageous for me. Since that way, when I would actually meet him and see him horribly fail through my high expectations, I could cherish the thought that he wouldn’t turn out to be as perfect as my impression on him turned out to be. That slight victory, no matter how shallow could very well allow me to satisfyingly spend the rest of my life, even without Nina. However, the only way that could have made this whole affair much worse was if he managed to meet all of my high expectations.

We heard the arrival of a car outside the house and we both went to the door. Nina was sprinting rather than actually walking. She noticed my shoes in the corner of the entrance and giggled at them. Out from the car came her older sister, wearing sunglasses and what I could only assume to be a frilly top and jeans. She had that same chirpy look on her face as Nina did.

“Dana! I missed you so much! I hope the drive was good,” Nina exclaimed with joy. Both the sisters met and embraced.

“So where’s Charleston?” Nina asked, obviously very intrigued as to his whereabouts.

“Oh, he’s still in the car. Let me go and get him,” Dana said, as she walked towards the car to open the car door for the highly anticipated and acclaimed guest. I kept my hands in a fist, eager to see the man that made my Nina go gaga over him for so long. I was determined to find out what this person looks like and whether he was even worthy of Nina’s compassion.

As the car door opened, out came Charleston, matching every single piece of description that Nina had laid out for me earlier. He walked right to us and looked at us with the eyes of someone who had just seen their beloved people after many years. He seemed like everything that Nina had told me he would be, and looking at the end result of the anticipation, I was very happy.

As soon as he reached us, Nina gave Charleston a big hug and Charleston looked completely smothered by her thick brown fabric.

“Patrick, meet Charleston,” Nina said, as she decided to introduce the two of us.

“Hello, Charleston! Nice to meet you.” I delightfully reached out my hand to him.

“Woof!” he excitedly replied, as if in agreement.

“You guys will be great friends,” Nina said, as she held my hand in hers.

“We definitely will.” I smiled at the friendly Labrador as it rubbed itself against my legs in affection.

“Patrick, look. Charleston is getting all his fur on your jeans”, Dana warned me, obviously concerned that he might spoil my jeans. Though she couldn’t help but smile at the delight of Charleston as his face leaned against my soft faded jeans.

“That’s quite alright, Dana,” I said confidently. “These are my lucky pair. Seems like Charleston is quite fond of my luck”

Charleston wagged his tail in approval.

Pedro conceived an excellent mess!
The pantry, now cloaked in flour.
Whiskers flaunting their shiny best,
and fluffy tail caught in a jar.

Pedro, alert, was pulling quick;
the tail was caught on tight.
A final yank did do the trick!
The jar then flew to the right.

A ghastly expression overtook Pedro
as the main ingredient was knocked.
carrots and shards all over the floor,
the recipe had suddenly flopped.

For spoiled carrots will never suffice.
The perfectionist demanded the best!
The alternative, though not quite as nice,
was broccoli seasoned with ‘cress.

Poor Pedro, was stuck in a soup.
He’d rather have fancied a cake.
Long furry ears, now in a droop,
were yearning for a tasty bake.

Years ago, on this very day,
his mama baked him this:
A birthday cake, atop which lay,
pieces of carroty bliss.

Frowning his luck, Pedro hopped to bed,
with eyes, trailed by sorrow’s bead.
This bunny’s heart, was torn by dread.
It was all quite grim, or so it seemed.

A sudden ring, from the door-bell,
awakened his sorrowful slumber.
A surprise visit, he could tell,
since it was his dearest mother.

A kiss and a hug, big and tight
greeted his overjoyed state.
With gleaming eyes, shiny and bright
a smile on him, it did create.

Happiness and joy took sudden flight
as she slowly unraveled from her basket,
that wonderful, juicy, carroty delight.
The best Birthday ever, no doubt about it!

For mother’s love is an ever-lasting treat
that no silly tail can dare knock over.
And despite the bitter hardships life may meet,
Her cake will forever taste sweeter

On that cracked old bench
we sat down our thoughts.
My ears to your voice,
my eyes on you locked.

Oh dear Bella,
my senses you’ve filled;
your memory leaks out,
on my heart is spilled.

To know it had been
on you all this time,
This secret I’ll keep
with my lovesick mind.

I know I’m too late.
Another has won
this race I’ve so lost.
I’ve been well outdone.

This face, all ragged
and pimple-stricken;
undeserving of
such fine a woman.

So fret not dear Bella,
for my heart will survive
However small,
it’s pieces I will find.

And mend it back
to what it was before;
to before I fell victim,
to your magical lure.

Goodbye dear Bella,
I’ll leave you this letter
to where it began
where no more it matters.

A weight was hanged upon my heart;
pushing, forcing down it’s thrust
waiting to snap, to break it apart

I guess that’s why it’s called a crush.

Sown by the hands
of the brave and the good,
this tree proudly stands;
Its armour, its wood

Diverse in their direction
the leaves branch out.
As if harmoniously, in perfection
they gently sway about.

No stormy rain
dared dampen its might.
With every passing hurricane,
it was ready to fight.

With roots anchored deep,
and nurtured by the soil.
To never fall, to never creep
whatever the turmoil.

Now independent and fully mature
’twas once a sapling, not long ago.
So to every admirer, I do implore
to let it prosper and let it grow.

The only company I’ll entertain
are shadows and furniture
and my lonesome brain.

This restless body, needs not a bed
to rest its wavering soul.
It yearns to dream, to forfeit its dread
whilst awake in reality’s dome.

This raging, beating, fiery heart
dormant in a shell; unable to start,
needs an ignition to entice the flames
of passion and flair into my veins.

So where can I find
this potential spark,
to bring my mind
out from the dark?

To search the depths,
to scour the heights?
A route so bereft,
no trail to abide.

The answer, uncertain.
Its quest, unforgotten.

Maybe it is nearer
than what I had imagined.
I can feel it building closer;
it’s not from another planet.

So I look deep within me
and find the same heart
Which once failed its glory
has now renewed its spark.

“The closer you get to something
the tougher it is to see it”
-That is the old witty saying
and to this poem, gives merit.

Sometimes, we must delve
into the darkness of ourselves
and find that inspiration,
that reason for our continuation.

Before you answer me though,
turn, and take a look around.
Spring is here, its beauty galore!
In sadness, you need not be bound.

For the flowers, they are blooming
and it is only you, they are wooing.
And the sun and the birds
together, inspire these words
of happiness that I want you to feel.
Is it too much then, to make of a deal?

The butterflies, to you they plead
while waving across the wind
my awed attention, is what they lead.

The dew, as glistening as it is,
reflects on that pout
you wear on your lips.

Oh, little girl, don’t you be afraid
for to see you happy, is the purpose
of my little spring serenade.

So what use is it, to see you sad?
When a smile is what
would make me glad.

But I soon realize, that you were not blue.
For your sadness, was anything but true.

With all that’s been said,
And all I’ve hoped and prayed,
You had just bumped your head
And a fool I had been made!

Gone, are those weak thoughts.
Returned, has that fire within me.
Free, am I from those heavy rocks.
Pointless, has been my stupidity.

Up, is where I’ll be aiming.
Down, I will never creep.
Faith, will I be Keeping.

Change, is what I seek.