Posts Tagged ‘Poem’

Birth: An emerge from unconsciousness into a state named Life.
Life: Colourful activities of an abstract existence occurring every day.
Day: A duration of sunlight or brightness intercepted by night.
Night: A darkness indicating a complete rotation of Earth.
Earth: Home of all living things until death.
Death: A resumption of unconsciousness.

Again, as we wake to the noises of life and its never-ending chaos, we embrace today without choice; this is life, a fated existence beyond our control, journeyed with speculations and vain pursuance of ideals, religions, politics and wealth, harnessed by trained emotions of prejudice and endless -isms while being staggered by love.

And so, Earth’s natural murmurs are drowned out by our activities, gradually, we grew deaf to its tune and blind to its revolving order, as crucial information subsides.

Still, there is hope. Earth is big, and we occupy only a small part of it.

Explore outside the confines of man-made societies, trek to the mountains and inhale, swim in rivers, lakes and seas; exhale. Discover other creatures in their natural habitat. Say nothing, and you will hear the natural melodies of Earth, apply patience and you will hear the message.

© Ian T. Sebas 2019


Why were we born and why will we die
Why are some of us grounded while others roam the sky
Why are some rich and why are some poor
Why should I settle for less when others get more

Why are we lonely even though we are not alone
Why do we stay in a house which will never be a home
Why do we speak when we can be mute
Why do we lie and avoid telling the truth

Why is it necessary to be approved by a crowd
Why is it better to hold our heads up to the cloud
Why are we never good just as we are
Why must I do more to be seen as a star

Why are some black and why are some white
Why am I wrong and why are you right
Why be confused when we can just sigh
Why wonder about the reasons of why.

© Ian T. Sebàs 2018

Your essence lingers
Like the smell of a fireplace during our nights in Winter
A radiant flare, fiery but warm
An unsteady dance, a weakening charm

Spooned, with a tune, until the moon subsides
Breathing says we’d be leaving, although still side by side
Snore opened a door to a distant land
Conjured seas and fine white sand

A tranquil escapade, captured as a view
Surreal existence with no me nor you
A rising sun, its dominating presence
Reminds me of you and your overwhelming essence

Then a flickering, a scramble of what I feel
Fascination, imagination, a question of real
My eyes now open, I can see your face
Fast asleep, maybe on my beach, giving me space.

© Ian T. Sebàs 2018

© Ian T. Sebàs

Advanced technology now allows online image search
And I decided to dabble, for what it might worth
Started by googling pictures of everyone else
Then curious me, thought to search with an image of myself

Instantaneously, my screen was decorated with results
Images, photographs, pictures in a bulk
I smiled as I saw familiar images of me
Giggled and laughed to the ones with no similarity

I continued to scroll, and again I saw my face
But this time I did not recognize the photo nor the place
So, I click on the image to get a close up view
And it rerouted me to a website that had more than a few

Pictures of myself having the liveliest spree
My heartbeat echoed to my ears as I murmured, “That’s not me!”
I zoomed in on the face, on the smile, on the eyes
Frantically questioning, “Have I been hypnotized?”

It was me, he looks like me in every detail
His lips, the way he sits, was me, without fail
And I was certain that I did not have a twin
My parents accounted for every single one of my kin

So, who was this person wearing my body and my face?
Is he free and I am locked up somewhere as a basket-case?
A fear of truth accompanied that thought
Maybe I was once important, lost my mind, and a replica was bought

If so, then it means that my existence serves a goal
And a duplication was made to fulfil that role
Intense online research did not explain
And then I realized that I’m being reserved for my brain

He may look like me, but I’m the one who writes
He’s a man-made shell of me, who relies on my insights
A representation of a could-be author, who would have been known
A congratulation to a salutation, Ian T. Sebàs, the clone.

© Ian T. Sebàs 2016