Elvis Sihoi

***

I’m afraid to give him

Too much love,

It might hurt him,

Not to give him enough love,

It might make him suffer,

My heart is mindful

When I shower

My little boy with my love.

02/10/23

***

So much worries

Run through my mind,

He becomes too big

To sit on my lap,

He runs too fast

To catch him

And stroke his

Little cheeks

He turns into a bird

Gradually

Wishing to explore the world

That opens

In front of his eyes

I’m afraid

Of losing him.

28/12/23

***

The poem is written at Gaia Holmes’s workshop at King Cross Library, Halifax 

He looks at me with blueberry in his hands

Rolling it in his tiny fingers

Being not aware it might drop on the floor,

Not knowing that his mum might burst into a scream of horror

Seeing pressures berry being wasted

He smiles and laughs singing La-la-la

He shakes his legs. His trainers clatter on the floor.

His eyes deep brown as blueberry in his little hands

I see he is reading my eyes maybe musing

They look like grey berries. His little heart

Absorbs the juice of love and happiness

And I can see he cannot have enough of the safety he receives from my eyes.

11/05/24

***

This poem is dedicated to my mother-in-law.

 Published on Facebook pages – Facebook Poetry Society, Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry UK, The Love of Poetry and Writers Help Writers on 06/09/24.

She is wetting the little boy’s body gently,

Applying Carefully a little white wet rag

On his head, arms, tummy, back

Scooping water from the bath.

She covers his ears with her hands,

Water is not allowed to get in.

It’s dangerous.

Love spreads on every inch of the little boy's body.

Now he is ready to be washed.

Her eyes are focused on not hurting him

While she is massaging shampoo on his bright wayward hair

Using both hands.

Boy does not cry,

He plays with a showerhead in the bath

And splashes water with one of his feet

He smiles at his grandma,

He says her – Shī*

She puts baby shower gel on his arms

And rubs with her warm hands

Tenderly

Going over every hand and his little busy finger.

She tells him – ci lai*

The little boy doesn’t.

She lifts him and washes his back, bum and legs.

Without rush,

As slowly as she can

She clings to the moment

The boy is still a child.

16/06/24

Shī - wet (in Chinese)
Ci lai - stand up (in Chinese)

Robots

His little hands stretch up,

‘Robots!’ His terrified eyes scream - loud.

I lift and hug my boy.

We have to escape as far as we can.

His little hands cling firmly around my neck,

His fingers dig deep in my skin

Making me muse

There is nowhere better than in his dads arms

To be safe.

His chestnut brown eyes search for robots.

‘Robots!’ He screams.

‘Don’t you want see robots?’ I ask.

He shakes his head in panic.

Robots!

Two robots!

I carry him away to the bouncing nets.

No robots here. Just music for the robots to dance.

Lets go home, I say, but he screams – Robots!

We’ll go quickly while robots dance at the end of the playground.

He screams. Two robots!

I say lets go quickly while robots dance.

You’re safe. Your dad will protect you from the robots.

He repeats the word – safe. His mind still haunted by two gigantic robots

That came for nothing more than dance.

15/07/24

***

Published on Facebook pages – On My Mind, Igniting The Spark, The Love of Poetry and Ivo Bierands on 30/08/24.

It might seem that I work for no pay,

But I’m not.

I’m paid by Elvis with his endless love

And I don’t understand where from

Such a little heart gets so much love given.

It burst over me like a waterfall

With hugs and trust,

Laughs and fear of losing me.

More than eight hours a day

And more than five days a week

I’m cascaded by his unconditional love.

It's continuous and everlasting

Making my life be meaningful.

15/07/24

***

Your mum parked her scooter and we came home

Through warm white illuminated streets by street lamps in Beihai

Nine o’clock Thursday night.

You bent down halfway through lifting your hands as high as you could

Behind your back.

And you ran clumsy as fast as you could.

Are you a running chicken? I asked.

You just laughed and I did the same.

Now we both ran along a footpath

And laughed our hearts out.

We waited for your mum to reach us in her steady walk

Her face was thoughtful when she looked at us.

And we ran again

Turning into running chickens on a hot and humid summer night

As if we were Marvel superheroes

Who can turn themselves into whatever they want to be.  

25/07/24

***

He takes from the ground two tiny tree leaves

And brings them up to the slide,

He laughs pushing tree leaves down the slide

And follows them with his tropical boy eyes,

Now

It’s time for him to get down the slide too.

He turns himself on his tummy and gets down with a joyful scream.

He waits for my reaction.

I smile and say, be careful.

He secures temporary priceless tree leaves in his hands

Before other children can take them

And throws them in the air as high as he can

He seeks for them on the ground

To start everything over again.

03/08/24

***

Published on Facebook pages – Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry UK  and The Love of Poetry on 02/09/24.


When my little boy cries

His tears are true and pure,

His little heart means no harm,

But an innocent joy.

03/08/24

***

Published on Facebook pages – Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry UK, The Love of Poetry and Writers Help Writers on 03/09/24.

 look at our boy

And the way he lives in his world

Happily and lively spinning round and round

Endlessly,

Pretending an airplane, a train or other things he likes to be,

Feeling safe,

Surrounded by his two nearest shining stars.

I wish the real world would be

The same.

10/08/24

***

Published on Facebook pages – Facebook Poetry Society, Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry UK, The Love of Poetry and Writers Help Writers on 04/09/24.

My heart absorbs your boundless joy of being with us

And it radiates

Passion

To stream its love to you

Endlessly,

Infinite,

Forever.

03/09/24