Terra Incognita

It has been seven years and still counting
The eighth looms with the tears still flowing
In some moments’ reprieve did they ease
Granting an instance of ataraxis

No sooner had the pain gone away
Than the surge of memories crashed my way
Time is a potent salve yet feelings remained grey
More so with every minute on this special day

What seemed like a week ago
With that gratingly gaping hole
Turns out to be a great distance in the eyeshot
As I edge away in a bumbling backward trot

I guess this is my deep end of the pool
One with my coach prematurely pulled
Now left the timing system to motivate me
And the lane markings to guide emotionlessly

Be it emeralds or ametrines
Contact mines or sea nymphs
I backed into the terra incognita
Holding on to her goading to get this far

The daisies stand out against the frigid monolith
Like the warm and welcoming figure I love and miss
Affection, acceptance, and a hearty laughter permeate the air
In the home of the cook, pizzaiola, and counselor-extraordinaire.
           

Coffin

The ride along the coast was a ruse

A journey to a destination I couldn't choose

I was paralyzed neck down

Bundled into it; mouth gagged, limbs bound

I can see yet I see not

I'm sane yet I couldn't reason

It's truth and explanation which I sought

Silence - I got nothing but only derision

The rugged lid was ajar

I felt my captor hasn't gone far

I lay there motionless

Feeling hollow, increasing numbness

And then I heard the dreaded thud

The lid was mercilessly shut

With every nails flashed vivid memories

Every blow turned them into miseries

The pain was beyond words

Nothing is able to describe the hurt

I tried to shout but nothing came out

Hoping to hear that it's an April Fool's joke

     but none came about

In the dark, anguish engulfed me

Yet I felt a deep sense of yearning

Longing to see daylight and Aphrodite

To again walk, talk, and stare - grinning

It was two nights of emptiness and cold

Before the full effects dawned upon me - searing

Gripped and bleeding, the throes of alienation unfold

With a bloody heart, I close my eyes

      and it began raining

Edited.
First posted in 2008

The Loop Button

Free-verses are less restrictive and needs little distillation.

The loop function is activated

But really, it can't be turned off at all

It's one of those trips off the beaten track

Into the feeding ground of sandflies

Some say nurtured by the priest-doctor

All alone all along

I stumbled on all day long

Sometimes in doubt and in fear

Not wanting to suffer and trade my life so dear

To the terrifying curse of Kala-azar

The walking stick aids my wearied members

Rough basalt becomes my pillow

Phantom breeze whispers into my ears

Whilst the dew comforts me

Until next ray of sunshine imparts warmth

I awake to a million gnaws

And realize this place ain't Lilliput

These six-legged critters are starving

A bunch of toucans chirp derisively

and one lone toad croaks in agreement

The loop function is activated

But really, it can't be turned off at all

It's one of those trips off the beaten track

Into the proving ground of stealthy hunters

Some say trained by the Wolbachia warriors

  

Y2K 11-10

The Sturm und Drang of Occupied October
Should cause casual commoners like me to quiver
A nascent ripple waxing by the day
Swinging out in every cardinal point and Rome burns today

Oddly, there prevails a state of uncanny equanimity
Permeating the noetic sphere called the mental faculty
From the placidity burst forth the brilliant flashes
It becomes hard to secern excitement from madness

Day 3 if cogitation and getting nowhere
There’s got to be an answer somewhere, but where?
I’m stuck between that man-wrought cave of utter despair
and that doggone whirlpool of delusion and certain snare

The sum of 2 and 2
Summed up the world rotten through and through
I’m not without aspiration nor expiration
And can only hope to emerge unscathed from adulteration

One bittersweet summer repleted by burnt butterscotch
Dwindled away to the cold, carved pumpkins at the porch
The frost of Shackleton’s time will soon gnaw
at our extremities whilst we await the first snowfall.
  

Bittersweet Scottish Summer

I stared at the empty page

Not knowing whether to bitch or make an adage

Maybe I could try to wet that six by eight with ade

Concocted and brimmed in my dreamy head

During the Bealltainn companioned by the Great Highland bagpipe

I heard myself humming to delightful melodies

Yesterday I awoke to a dampened hype

In fellowship with silence I groaned in my maladies

Images of a kvetching child now dance before me

Echoes of her voice are haunting but no less than endearing

It’s but a short time before she melds into the scenery

That of a luxuriant Kelvingrove Park, reddening

The bench is empty, save for the weathered grains
A faithful third in every conversation

Whether they be blessings or banes

The gust has carried them to certain oblivion

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder

But it felt like the top of Ben Lui, only colder

Behind the tear-sealed palpebras picturing Loch Lomond

I revisit the sweet memories of summer gone

 

Tantalizing Chronicle of Friendship

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Pork belly fatty and soft

A coveted cut straight from the croft

Sit and enjoy the crispy pork belly roast

And lend your ears to the butcher, the host

An unlikely encounter, cold and befuddling

Quickly melted into a lively clavering

Off they went catching butterflies

Caught none but plenty of delightful cries

Beneath the Darnley Sycamore they meet henceforth

Tales of derring-do never fail to regale

The dame of Kelvingrove Manor in the north

By the simple lad from the Yorkshire Dales

Her words are likened to NSAIDs

Though imperfect some joy they create

Whether he weighs 9 or 19 stone

She wouldn’t mind even if he’s shorter than a scone

The dame’s unassuming

And the lad’s affectionate

Yet, is she temporal and evanescing?

Heart skipped a beat; unanswered questions filled his throbbing head

Days are gloomy and the nights’ frigid

Into the empty sky he stared, devoid of heat

Alone, with glassy eyes he beheld

Care, concern and mirth perfectly meld

Thus ended Part One of an uncertain journey

Peppered with some thorns but glees aplenty

Only the Lord knows if trust will be an issue

So stay tuned for more details to be served to you

Untitled, yet again

May 10 should be a nice day, I should hope. And as I rummage through old documents, I came across this

It often starts with a kiss
The jester makes do with a song list
For the kingdom’s rightful heir
Ensnared by impish nightmares

Simple, short and sweet with the mime
Secrets wheedled with every dime
From her black mare to gorillas in their midst
To her dwelling in the village, Sanofi-Aventis

Try as he might in between hums
Thinking if he walked, would she run
Orange hues declare the impending might
Replacing a previously blue, blessed day –
ending the dark, purplish night.

So, another day passes in a manner not so grand
An era under the rule of Chloe the Tenth.

Huntly Castle, Aberdeenshire, Scotland

Homeward Bound

Written by Moazzam Begg whilst in solitary confinement

Begins this journey without reins,
End in capture without aims;
Now lying in the cell awake,
With merriment and smiles all fake:

Freedom is spent, time is up -
Tears have rent my sorrow's cup;
Home is cage, and cage is steel,
Thus manifest reality's unreal

Dreams are shattered, hopes are battered,
Yet with new status one is flattered!
The irony of it - detention, and all:
Be so small , and stand so tall

Years of tear and days of toil
Are now but fears and tyrants' spoil;
Ordainment has surely come to pass,
But endure alone one must this farce

Still the paper do I pen,
Knowing what but never when -
As dreams begin, and nightmares end -
I'm homeward bound to beloved tend.

Moazzam Begg & Victoria Brittain (2006), Enemy Combatant: the terrifying true story of a Briton in Guantanamo

Oh? Oh!

Oh, what a cute pout
Coupled with that big snout
A curve forms across the lips
Whenever the eyes meet

Oh, that voice
That assures, imparts poise
Be it tremors or quakes
A place of solace it takes

Oh, that warm touch
Like the bedding in the hutch
Soothe, comfort, straighten every nerve
Completes and fills every void, and their dearth

Oh, wait!
I'm a tad too late
Your face, words, and presence
Come into being in my absence.

The Dutchman's Log

I wrote the following two in a birthday card to mum.

As you sail
May life be free from messy bale
Breezy in the aft and away from the gale
Stories from the vogage many you'll regale

Navigate where the Wind blows
Behold the sides of the north
Life and its throes
Ephemerally bide as you set forth

We Remember

the billowing smoke
the lives snuffed out prematurely

the crumbling buildings
the shattered hearts

the sombre mood
the quiet cries
the inconsolable grief

we'll remember that life is precious
wherever. whenever.
to heal, reconcile and move on.

(Photo from here)

The Ever First Time I Saw Your Face

The first time I ever hugged you
and felt your heart so close to mine
the first time ever I saw your face
I just wanted to protect you
and help you through the hungry years
because you're part of me
for you are special, a miracle from above

The first time ever I carried you
I'd been waiting for the moment for years
I thought it would not come.
Gladness, joy and thanksgiving filled my heart
The first time I ever saw your face.
You're the angel from the above
only God creates such perfect love.

So be free, spread your wings
a whole new world is waiting for you

By one C. Wong in today's Heart and Soul column of the Sunday Star; inspired by the Roberta Flack song (The Ever First Time I Saw Your Face).

And I've always wondered why there exist people who couldn't appreciate life whilst others struggled to conceive.

Muted Oracle

Is it true that I'm but ordinary?
Been searching for answers, for assurance, daily
Is it also true then, that I've not reached into you?
From what I see, my actions and words are anything but new

For what is an embrace, if you I disgrace?
What is a kiss, when my words, your heart they miss?
What good is a smile, when the heart is away over a mile?
And why affectionate words, when they're often forced or went unheard?

Are you around only when it's lovey-dovey, cozy and mushy?
Or would you stick by even when it's sickly, drowsy, choppy and facing bankruptcy?
Pray tell, what's behind that poker face - phlegmatic and sometimes saturnine
Tell me now, tell me true or missed chances yours to rue

Gas chromatography analysis. 21 samples; three per hour

All Set to Go

Sitting, chin on the table, pen in my left hand I began writing the following. Lacked rhymes but I'm happy that I've managed to string together the must-have words.

Where the fanfare ends, the journey begins
Love catalyzes perpetual homogeneity
May each day be new and the grins sweet
Bliss forever, ending never

The Square Root of Three

A creative way of using numbers, math and the like in the scripts of Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay. No praises or abuses but I find it better than Scary Movie. Square root of three... I'd never have thought of it up to this point. No thanks, in part, to my dislike for numbers. But I love The Oxford Murders to bits! Some say it's credited to David Feinberg but whoever composed that, it's clever. Here goes, behold the Theodorus' constant:

I fear that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
A three is all that's good and right
Why must my three keep out of sight

Beneath a vicious square-root sign?
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick
With just some quick arithmetic

I know I'll never see the sun as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When, hark, just what is this I see?
Another square root of a three

Has quietly come waltzing by
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
And with a wave of magic wands

Our square-root signs become unglued
And love for me has been renewed

Mr Minty Breath

To a friend, a fruit: Litchi chinensis

Air drawn and exhaled
Formed odd shapes in the dead of night
A stake raised, a scream, a push with all his might
Poor guy lay motionless, impaled

'Twas during the afternoon
In the mall amidst the colourful festoon
That the attentive eye caught the rascal
Bottle in one hand, crept menacingly towards a girl

A sinister smile formed across his face
An equally evil grin carved a distance away
The unfolding drama, the observer, doesn't seem to faze
Continued chewing, waiting as the day gives way

He stumbled along the glistening pavement
He strode quietly, still chewing, preparing judgment
A tap on the shoulder and a blow to the cheek
Bundled into the trunk and driven to a creek

As he lay atop gravels and grass
He regretted his words so crass
Bloody thigh impaled, he won't meet Death
But tonight, he met Terror with a minty breath

Deceiving Yet Unstoppable

Its hands stopped moving
That very moment I knew it's got to get going
Running, floating, rowing, I don't know, perhaps it does nothing?
I could never fathom, imagination diminishing.

It stopped and I stooped
Viscid mire swallowed my boot
I sat down and pulled over my hood
I could never fathom, how could I, in despairing mood?

It stopped moving and I walked stooping
I thought it's gone and I lay incapacitated, begrudging
Then I felt the unseen, all along, moving
I could never fathom, how stupid, that it's actually not waiting

How many could understand the unseen?
Or to experience and to witness the "always have been"?
Even as we began to realize and grasp clumsily at its hem
I could now fathom; that it means being left in its wake

Time, it's been said, waits for no man. The author tried to understand the unseen time and how it moves. How everything is relative to it. Like the waves and billows, it gets messy and complicated when one tries to imagine and understand the beginning of time. Time moves forward but I would find comfort in that time leaves its mark; a message sounding "I was here". Time begets memory. The latter being a stationary form of a dynamic time and I'm not making any sense anymore.

I have with me a dead watch yet life goes on. Like that watch, my life is full of "dead watches" too but I couldn't spend too much time holding on to it. I'd just put them up for display on my desk and wall.

Time: Unstoppable yet deceiving. Deceiving because its swiftness created an illusion of a still dimension. Having said that, I hope that with time I'd make more sense when I speak or write.

Bon Voyage: Journey to the Soul of Asia

Jules sat on the ledge gazing out into the sea
The paper flutter in the breeze, ever so gently
Grabbed a pen, straightened up, and lowered his hat
Thus he began writing, "Dear Nancy Marie-Yvette..."

I have but my best wishes
For the trip to the conference
May Spring brings, to you, renewal and rejuvenation
To cheer, encourage, and gird - for another confrontation
So, onward march into Seoul
And I bid thee annyeonghi kashipshio

A short note by Jules it is
Hoping to enliven and to bring peace
He folded the paper and tossed it into the light
It caught the breeze and then took flight

A Creed to Live By

by Nancye Sims

Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others.
It is because we are different that each of us is special.

Don't set your goals by what other people deem important.
Only you know what is best for you.

Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart.
Cling to them as you would your life, for without them life is meaningless.

Don't let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future.
By living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your life.

Don't give up when you still have something to give.
Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.

Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect.
It is this fragile thread that binds us to each other.

Don't be afraid to encounter risks.
It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.

Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find.
The quickest way to receive love is to give love.
The fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly;
and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.

Don't dismiss your dreams.
To be without dreams is to be without hope;
to be without hope is to be without purpose.

Don't run through life so fast that you forget not only where you've been,
but also where you're going.
Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way.

Aphonia

Gagged and bound
Democracy, more or less, lost - never to be found
Today, jubilant supporters went to town
To celebrate an underhand victory - hands down

I'm against two-legged frogs
Who jumped at whatever bait en bloc
Shameful ones don't represent us
But a manifestation of our fears

People fear a government with a torn moral fabric
With only enough fibres to cover it's nakedness
It's sad that the people fell victim to the antic
Powerless and dumb, a government not established by ballot boxes

The Ruler of the state has spoken
And I only to keep quiet and listen
To them that are affected today
Bite the bullet and fight another day.