There's Home

There’s a place somewhere I’ve never been,

There’s a house, a street I’ve never seen,

Where a little robin sings for me

So I may find my way.

There’s someplace somewhere I truly long,

A place called home where I belong,

A small backyard where I wrote my song

That I hope to sing one day.

There’s peace somewhere I’ve never known,

And a million memories of my own,

Where there’s a beating heart, there’s a hope

That I may find my way.

Though dismantled our world may be,

Where-on-earth you go is home to me,

When the day is here that I long to see,

All I ask for is to stay.

There are roads to go and dreams to see,

Yet it’s only home where I long to be,

Oh may the robin’s song soon find me

  So I may find my way.


Copyright Delilah Das 

Mirror

What’s silver and shows us our vessels?

What’s silver and knows not our depth?

What’s silver and often misunderstood-?

For it has a secret well kept.

What’s silver and often accused

Of shallow perception and ruthless honesty?

What’s silver and often charged

For its flawed insight and superficiality?

Who is this culprit we believe we know,

That we claim is silver for it appears so?

Yet here we claim to see beyond

 The superficial—what an irony, though!

What’s silver and shows us its vessel?

What’s silver whose depth is unseen-?

By eyes that claim flawless profundity,

What’s silver but shades of green?


Copyrighted by Delilah Das

The Light is Going Out

They tell me to look,

But the darkness is too bright,

So I squint my eyes,

And look for a light.

They tell me to hear,

But the silence is too loud,

Though a mirror shines at me,

The light is going out.

They tell me to feel,

But the rawness is too dead,

There’s not much space to think,

For thoughts have filled my head.

They tell me to see,

But they do not tell me how,

The moon though once was bright,

The light is going out.

They tell me to move on,

From what, and to where shall I go?

For the road that will take me

Is but made of snow.

They tell me the sun

At dawn will the sky shroud,

But when the day meets its end,

The light’s still going out.

They tell me it deludes—

The scar that blinds my eyes,

There is but water within

A frozen lake of ice.

They tell me to smile

When life’s sent forth to sprout,

But smile as bright I might

The light is going out.


Copyrighted by Delilah Das

The Sailor

The sailor arrived, one day, like the wind,

Carrying a still, sagacious countenance,

He anchored his child, wiped its floor,

Brushed a hand across his auburn face,

And on he looked with fetching eyes,

At a cerulean span and the far off lands,

That summoned fond days of his voyages,

And a hundred flames that burned strong still.

They knew not of his desires, his delight,

Of his wisdom and of his latent light,

That like an ocean of calm waves built within,

Serenaded his heart and tamed his eyes.

To them he was but a mere man, quiet,

That beamed amiably through the sun,

But at sundown, lay still on the sand,

And with weary eyes beheld the stars.

The wind blew down and stroked his thoughts,

And caressed his feet with reverence,

For it knew of the vicious tales,

Of storms and hail and the sailor’s plight,

Of despair, of hope, of fleeting fear,

Of gold and sand, of dark and light,

Of strain, struggle, twilight and dawn,

And all that made the sailor wise.

Copyrighted by Delilah Das

Through An Onyx Shard Of Glass

A night, not far ago, I sat alone,

I sat in the dormant wind,

Listening to unhurried heartbeats,

Sounding off like the crickets

On a murky voiceless night.

My eyes with its alien sight,

Through an onyx shard of glass,

Gazed up at a glittery mess

Against the inky backdrop,

And stared past the light years,

Then trailed a course, that which,

Of finite breaths was made,

And time measured in heartbeats,

Of a descending earth, en route

To destinations unheard of.

And of nowhere came live the wind,

Seemed to me it wanted my word,

But I had none, I told it so,

And it blew harder still as I

Sat alone one night, not far ago.

Copyrighted by Delilah Das

Like a Singing Bird...

She steps in like a singing bird

Caged in a world of choices made,

By the keepers of her silver fate,

Singing away till the purple sunset.

The storm sets in; the rain whips

Her feathers of hope that dwindle wet,

She won’t cry, she won’t laugh,

Rain rolls down her silent face.

She knows too well the sun that once

Sat at the keerper’s window ledge,

Won’t come again to ask her if,

They let her out to see the day.

She leaves like the bird that drinks

While sinking down the water’s depth,

She opens her mouth, breathes her last,

The singing bird then sings to death.

Copyright by Delilah Das

Divine Differences

Imagine,

If everyone looked the same,

Acted in the same manner,

Even had the same thoughts,

No differences in personality,

Nothing to set us apart.

Imagine,

The rivers looking the same,

Surrounded by the same

Environment all around the world,

Even the waterfalls,

Wouldn't be a special sight,

Looking the same; being the same,

No uniqueness in them.

Plants and flowers,

All appearing the same as each other,

Fragrance of a favorite flower,

Lost within a world of similarities,

Beauty disappearing into similitude,

No longer having any uniqueness,

In anything any longer.

The world around us,

With a kaliedoscope of cultures,

People of different nationalities,

Variety in a world full of abundance,

So many unique qualities,

On offer around the globe.

This is the reason why,

That my heart is saddened,

When I see hatred acted upon,

For nothing more than being different,

Instead of admiring, compassion and love,

We are taught differently.

When it comes to human beings,

We are expected to act the same,

If we act differently,

We are labelled not normal,

If we think differently,

We are ridiculed and mocked,

Unfortunately; we tend to hide what's real.

Dreams can be reality,

Hope is all that's needed,

One day before its too late,

Before we lose our ancestor's history,

We, as a human race,

Appreciate; respect one another,

Instead of destroying anything different,

Making us all behave, think and act,

To be normal; to be robots.

Copyrighted by Tan Nguyen

Born Again

A man once born to the love of two,

Was born again in a distant land,

On soil that reeks of the lives he took,

Redeemed in foreign blood and sand.

In deserts where the winds of dread,

Wraps around his bleeding hand,

And the frozen faces and woebegone hearts,

Of his brothers’ beleaguered band.

At the end of time, at the edge of life,

As the seconds slip away from hand,

Smiling down with valor untouched,

His tireless brothers around him stand.

A man once born of the love of home,

Was born again of grit so grand,

In a battlefield in the endless hills,

Of a faraway ominous land.

Copyright by Delilah Das

Can You Feel

I've wondered

How many people

Noticed the sadness

Behind my smile

If they noticed; they didn't say.

If only they knew

The loneliness I feel inside,

Misunderstood or being used,

Utter despair which engulfs me,

Smothering; suffocating me,

Tearing, ripping apart my soul,

Agony I feel, and hide.

Can you feel my pain

When you look into my eyes?

Can you feel the darkness

That consumes my thoughts?

Can you feel the sadness

That craves to be comforted?

Only if you were able

To feel my torment for a little while...

Copyrighted by Tan Nguyen

The Grains of Forever

I stand alone by the ocean,

I hear the sand running down,

Grains rattling against each other,

Carrying moments, never waiting,

As I stand alone, breathing

In an endless quietude.

My mind feels like the ocean, vast and quiet,

My heart like the sand, counting days and night,

A moment forever waiting, patient and quiet,

Yet running away in grains, oblivious to my presence,

As I stand alone, listening to the sand.

Copyright by Delilah Das

Precious Regrets

Lessons are forever,

There's always more to learn,

Student for life; of life,

Discovering secrets,

Exploring deep into the core.

Little by little,

Like a jigsaw puzzle,

Putting pieces together,

Seeing the bigger picture,

Slowly; secrets are revealed.

Knowledge is understanding,

Able to apply patience,

Tolerating others, situations,

Dealing with problems,

Handling circumstances,

In a more productive way.

Precious regrets,

Irreplaceable remorse,

Bad feelings; inner voices,

Saying no mistakes are made before,

Without reviews these feelings,

There'd be no lines drawn,

Once crossed; difficult, to recover.

Without feelings or emotions,

Even the most negative of reviews this,

Is built within all of us,

A warning system,

Alerting us, something is wrong,

I for one, misused this function,

Misunderstood; even accused,

Thinking it was against me,

Making me confused and lost.

Copyrighted by Tan Nguyen

The Eyes of a Man I Know

There's a world deeper 

Than the obscure depths of the cerulean ocean

And the floor underneath that conceals a destructive heat,

Calm, colorful, lively yet cold,

In the eyes of a man I know.

There's a bitter threshold to the forbidden abyss,

That reeks of moss in crevices unhealed,

Like the open flesh of a fresh red wound,

Now plagued by rust that tastes of despair,

In the eyes of a man I know.

There's a sky brighter than the bed of the midday sun,

And wings mightier than an eagle's embrace,

And words sweeter than a bee's nectar

Embedded in the depths of a flower called Hope,

In the eyes of a man I know.

Copyright by Delilah Das