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Poetry |
Poetry
E-Bashing?
--Henry Lam
Where have all the poets gone?
Have they been snatched by the EUS?
Where are the voices that used to sing?
Are they drowned in the drone of life.
No more, no more
I wish to suffer no more
Take me from my solitude and stress
and give me milk and honey to overcome this mess
Where is my writing going?
I don't know, I don't know
Sigh, I am no more, the writer I
Let me sleep and die.
M i n d ' s M i s t
--Henry Kim
Mist, I see you overtaking the hills
Your slow creep hazes my vision
Mist, I see you surrounding me
Trapping me in a veil of heavy entrancing grey
Mist, you have envelopped me completely
And I can see nothing around me
But I can feel your presence, and I feel your elusive fingers
Reaching for my arms, and my face, and then
You retreat back to the formless mist of my imagination
You shroud my mind, and disable me from acting
But I'll stay and wait
Because I know you'll blow over
And let me see all that my eyes can see.
Nina
--Rhea Low
Taking a natural bristle
brush, I
comb Nina's messy hair.
She had beautifully curled locks
seventeen years ago
but I ruthlessly
ruined them because
I didn't understand her
Value.
Parting her tangeld
hairs into mini wedges
I run the brush with utmost care through her
mass of yellow plastic.
Chopped off
were Nina's cute ringlets. In
jagged shapes her coarse bangs
hang above
her sparkling blue eyes.
Maybe Nina will forgive me.
We have always been the best of friends.
Using a lacy tie, I separate the
finely-combed, wavy hairs from the
chaotic
curls.
It takes much patience to undo the tight
knots but
I don't want to leave an inch of
her beige scalp uncorrected.
Rummagin through Nina's trunk
of clothes,
I find a faded photograph dated
fifteen years ago.
Two doll-like figures with aquamarine eyes
stand hand
in hand.
They both have blond
bouncy locks that sway in similar directions.
Absently, I begin brushing
my own frizzled wheat
coloured hair.
Yes, Nina will be forgiving.
She never frowns at me.
Maybe I should leave
--Henry Lam
The days have gone by
And poetry has not touched my veins
To have bitter emotions
Coursing through my body
Like a drug of inhibition
the melodious birds have not sung for me
They have left to tell their stories
to a better writer
Their milky lyrics would have filled my heart
With the hunger for more.
The band has left town
No music stirs the air
Only the fishmonger and blacksmith
are there
Arguing about who has the better job
There is no inspiration here
Maybe I should leave
Leave for the mountain peaks
To breathe fresh air once again
Instead of the stagnation of methanic fumes
The birds are there.
Leave for the shoreline
The waters will wash away all other thought
And leave me pure, clean
An instrument wanting of use.
The whales will keep me company.
Leave for the forest
The pines will become my home
My refuge from others.
I could tend the dear saplings
and the squirrels will read my tales
Lost, lost, lost
No promise in this worldly life
Only the Spirit could fill me now.
No direction like this poem.
IRRELEVANCE
--Jeremy Liao
Coming into the exam,
Thinking about nothing but calculus.
Intergrating, intergrating, intergrating!
Trying to achieve the reverse of differentiating!
What is the point of all this?
So that we can calculate
The rate of change of our life,
Or, perhaps the centroid of our masses.
There must be a logical reason to all this.
Maybe we are just doing them pointlessly.
Would someone please tell me?
What is the meaning of all this?
To be or not to be,
is not the question of this century.
To see or not to see,
is the purpose of all this.
What is the meaning of life?
This is different for everyone.
For me,
I was born to find out the meaning of everything.
The sky is blue
Due to the scattertivity of color light.
The rainbow is an arch, or is it?
Maybe it is a ring that goes all the way around.
Truth is irrelevant.
False is futile.
So what is in between?
No one is sure about the answer.
Roses should be red
Violets can be blue
Our reasoning is irrelevent
To see the true meaning of truth
Is there life beyond school?
Is there life after death?
Are there lifeforms on other planets?
We will just have to wait for the answers to reveal.
All of this is irrelevent
To the integration test I have to take.
But this is all I can remember.
Nothing proves helpful on the test.
Maybe everything is irrelevent.
Perhaps there is no relativity.
I just hope someone would assimilate me
To put an end to all this.
Heaven and Earth before me...
--Henry Kim
Heaven and Earth before me
Before it I kneel as a worshipper
A follower of its unimaginable power
A successor to its powers to wield
Or so I should be
It blows me away from itself
Not desiring an undeserver
Who never perservered to reach the end
To reach the goal of ultimate supremacy
For a lack of vision thou shalt haveth just that
Now I see the light before me
But already it distances itself from me
I try with all my might to reach it
Still the light dims into nothing
And now I see nothing but darkness.
Shot in the Dark
--Henry Kim
A shot in the dark
shock of white light against the darkest night
Streaking along a fixed path
Light and heat radiate from within it
It's the only thing I see in this dead night
I wonder what it is -- a plane, a rocket, a UFO
Maybe it's just a firefly hurrying home
My neck is cramped from me trying to keep
This elusive object in my sight
Now it's suddenly hurtling towards me
With terrifying speed and unwavering certainty
Of its purpose, its sole mission
My chest tightens, my palms start sweating
My knees buckle, and I struggle to keep my composure
As my bus pulls up in front of me
And opens its doors to take me home.
The rhythm of the music...
--Henry Lam
The rhythm of the music
sets the beat
of my
train
of
thought
The rhythm guides
directs
gives meaning
to an
otherwise
wandering
fool.
Set my emotions
in
motion
From verse to
verse
From song to
song.
Sorrow to elation
elation to praise
and
back
again.
Emotions are traps...
--Henry Lam
Emotions are traps
My words the victims
They want to fly and
colour the world
around me and to
release the emotions
they describe
But
the emotions are traps
and the words their victims
I can hear my words
in the darkness
They rage with unbelievable fury
and glide with unprecedented eloquence
But
the light picks them out of the air
and places them in the dungeon
Free to express yet
Arrested from within
Tragedy...
Sound and fury...
...
...
.
The Scavenger
--Henry Lam
The sky is falling
everyday
to announce the coming
of the night
People are going
home
to take rest from the
trials of the day
But one still working
in his office, if I may,
of steel, aluminum,
plastic deposition
I walk by,
unaware of my presence,
and find him
performing his trade
One by one
they fly out
the lifeblood of his work
One by one
they hit the ground
the sound rings down the alley
He steps out of his office
unaware of me
Burdened with the affairs of his work
and the welfare of his being
The creases, the lines
the signs of age
the hands, the scars
the callouses
He picks up his wares
packs them in a bag
and continues down the alley
to his next appointment
MIRRORS
--Ann Wong
A shadow looms over him
Like a creator waiting to
Exhale
Numbness in his brainless mind
His empty dancing halls, awakes
The drop of his pen
No ink will die
Nor the blotches yet to be made
No, no!!
Await,
Silenceo!
Let him ponder his own devil
To frame his own decision
See to it, he smiles
Upon a night of bitter battles
does he finally leaves in exile
A rainbow greets with him
Like sunshine rays waiting to be
Touched
Sincerity in his wide eyes
His loving heart, sings
The dreams of all dreams
No hope will die
Nor the wishes yet to be made
Yes, yes!
Now
Is the time
Let him feel his own essence
To inspire his own thoughts
See to it, he smiles
Upon a day of hard work
doe he finally jumps for joy
How is it that I explain
--Henry Lam
for Nelson Yee 1976-1994
How is it that I explain
what loss is?
How do I explain the pain?
To have seen, then not see
To have had, then not have
How do I know how real it is?
The loss,
the pain,
the tears.
Is it just the same, or is something
different
than before?
Why?
So early.
So soon.
Here and gone.
A flash,
a crash,
a loss.
Who will mourn this loss?
Who will remember?
Who will tell
his story?