Moth to a Flame

It's burning bright. So tentalizingly bright. I'm blinded, short-sighted by the light. Nothing on my left or anything on the right. Nothing else in sight. There is just me and the burning firelight.

This dance is painfully slow. And yet the rhythm blurring fast. It's hard to keep up. It's difficult to stay with the beat. We are on this dancefloor, and I do not know which way to move my feet.

Is this the junction from which I turn? Do I go straight, or shall I just burn?

I'd love to stay and dance the night on. But the hour's 12, and I promised my return. I'd run down the steps, virtue all a-flutter. But I'd leave on your steps my lone glass slipper.

A little now, but with a promise of later. Don't worry, I have the other slipper.

Baby, I'm a moth to a flame. Tempted by the burning candlelight. I'll stay for this number, but I need to leave before midnight.

Love, LinZy~

Inspired

It has occured to me just how long it has been since I've penned down a poem or something like it. It's been quite a while. I could not possibly remember the last time I've let words flow through my mind and let it be drawn upon a canvas. That canvas, of course, nowadays being my laptop screen while my fingers tap upon the keys, patterning upon this pixelated blank page the swirl of letters that substantializes the abstraction in my head.

It's been a while now.

And whether it is this laptop that plays medium to my constant need to give voice to the otherwise silent recesses of my mind or my hand smooth-flowing in an almost possessed fervour upon the paper pages of my notebook; it surely has been a while. Relatively a while, considering how every page of any notebook of mine used to have on it at least a stanza committed to ink.

I was however intrigued to write one of my own last night. I was reading some poems my dear Ash posted up and was moved by how much emotion was captured in those brief stanzas. Even more so was the fact that they were written in Malay, my should-be mother tongue (bahasa ibunda); which I have failed to master in entirety. I found them moving, so much so that I'm moved to write my own take on his poem titled "Sepi itu yang Membingitkan" (read it here). I definitely cannot do justice to his, but I'll try my hand. Oh, and of course, it's in English.

Love, I hope you don't mind.


In the silence
it deafens so.
A vacuum that
swallows whole
everything but
the demons residing
in my head.
And they taunt
and they scream
In my solitude.

In this din,
I find in it
the solace blessed
in my notoriety,
in blending into
the background.
A wallflower.
Its blaringsurrounding me.
But it is calm
in the eye of the storm.

I exist in a crowd.
Alone, I cease to be.


© Hazlin Aminudin


Reason? Well, out of the many, silence is what I understand the most. How in all of its deception of peace, the hushness breeds more monsters than bunnies could procreate, for it allows you the peace of mind to let monsters haunt you. And being the worrier that I am, this is knowledge that I have firsthand.

So that's it. My first poem in months now, owing my inspiration to the words of my dear Ash
(don't sue me, yea? Hehe...). See you in two days, love.

Love, LinZy~

Ignition

It is a slow burn to reach boiling point.
Heat turned on low, but burning bright.
Kindling flames stoking a raging fire.
I'm cold I say, but within ablaze.

Yours, Lin~