Not It Was, It Is And Will Be Poem by Jake Tadla

I live in a house full of new things
I'm sitting on a chair I don't know
What form or shape I'll describe it
I'm using a microwave oven
Not the stove built by woods for fire
The walls are sturdy made of concrete
Painted in all white with shades of yellow
Dangling beads serve as curtains
Before touching the door knob
Remove the tassle from the door leaf
A few white bulbs covered with translucent colored paper
Shedding its light and marking the room dim
I can see more shadows than real figures, at first
But there's a promise of growing light
'Til it illumines the whole sala
Where I am sitting with you on an extra-ordinarily shaped chair
By the way, only a part of the wall is
Painted; and some parts are still on progress
I don't know when will it be finished.
On my right hand the floor plan
Along with the budget proposal
And the fully furnished house at the back of my mind
While listening on a new song
From my newly bought music player.
It's all new; all in the present
As the jockey holds to a promise
Of giving new and fresh songs everytime.
I can hardly remember how it's like
The walls, the furniture, the appliances...
But the place this chair I'm sitting on right now
I knew there was once a rocking chair
Where I once heard a lullabye
Of which the tune I cannot utter once more
All I know is that it was a rocking chair
Crafted by skill with rattan of varying sizes and length
It was where I used to listen on a transistor radio
And waiting for something to be cooked in the wood-operated oven
And no paper at hand at all;
Not even an image of a new house at my mind's back.
Just when I recognize that I'm sitting on
This extraordinary shaped chair
That I said to myself, having the plans
On paper at my hand,
I'll hold on to your promise
Of making this house into a home;
Of sleeping with me at the master's bedroom;
Of filling the children's quarter with ours;
And the words of promise at the altar's front.