A portrait of Kaneko Misuzu

The early-bird prompt at napowrimo.net (for NaPoWriMo 2025) was to write a portrait poem. I wrote it on the first day of NaPoWriMo, but other urgent things took over and I have to post it on the 2nd on my second blog. Probably you guys have not read it there. :)

pencil sketch by dsnake1, enhanced with Snapseed



A portrait of Kaneko Misuzu


It must be those eyes,
like dark coals
staring into the echoes,
a certain fleeting sadness,
as if she can see
into the future
her later unfortunate life,
that draws me
to the portrait.

"We're all different, and that's just fine"



01/04/2025
**********

---

Kaneko Misuzu ( 金子 みすゞ), (1903 -1930), was a Japanese poet known for her poetry for children. She was celebrated during her lifetime, but her works fell into obscurity after her death. She was given a rather common given name Teru, but being well-read, she gave herself the pen name Misuzu, derived from the word 'misuzukari', which means 'the reaping of bamboo grasses'.

I may like to compare her life with that of Adelaide Crapsey (1878 - 1914), the inventor of the cinquain. Both were ardently pursuing their art during their brief lives, but their popularity waned after their deaths. Fortunately for us, their poetry were not lost.

---------------

Big Catch
======

At sunrise, glorious sunrise
it’s a big catch!
A big catch of sardines!
On the beach, it’s like a festival
but in the sea, they will hold funerals
for the ten thousands of dead.


-- Kaneko Misuzu

And for fun, an AI generated image of the above drawing in anime style from me at Fotor.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

small miracles

From GloPoWriMo 2025. Yeah, yeah, no eyeballs.

Hope everyone is having a good day.

AI generated image by dsnake1 at Fotor



small miracles



Today I wish you small miracles
as you go about your waking day.

A blue sky, pure white clouds and green leaves sunlit.
A sparrow hopping in the shadow at the Buddha's feet.
The community cat meows back when you greet it.
The bus is not late, in the train someone offers you a seat.

Do not question if there are small miracles.
Expect them, waking up in the morning is one.



09/04/2025
**********

---

“The whole world is a series of miracles, but we're so used to them we call them ordinary things.”

― Hans Christian Andersen

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

crossroads

A little moment in time...

AI generated image by dsnake1 at Fotor



crosssroads


my hand on your soft little one,
i hope i am not griping too hard
but i must hold on.
we are at the corner of Coleman and Hill
waiting for the lights to turn green.
you, my dear daughter
standing quietly by my side,
the big trucks and cars
all impatiently rushing by.
a ragged doll on your other hand,
on your back, your little backpack
with crayons and a colouring book,
a water bottle, some small towels.
you said you would like to carry it yourself
like how dad had always carried
a lot of things.

You are the light of the lamps,
the light in everyone's eyes.
the light of the stars above,
and now it shines in your eyes
the green man of the traffic lights
as we cross the road
in sure measured steps
on the long journey home.



06/05/2025
**********

---

"so my dad tags along for he is stocky
and muscular so no one would want
to mess with me or the tank,"


- dsnake1, Lavender Street, early 60's

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

9:10 (what if)

9 is supposed to be forever, but it isn't.

photo by dsnake1



9:10 (what if)


And I turned my head and there she was.

The winter rain , like cigarette ash dropping from lamplights.

Can you count all the colours in a sunrise?

All the road signs, none pointing you the way.

Just a damn simple job and you screwed it.

Think of a million excuses but none will stick.

The winter roads, bare trees all, look the same.

My world has turned a shade of battleship grey.

Cigarette butts trapped in pools of water beside me.

I turn my head expecting her and she wasn't.



written : 04/02/2023
revised : 30/10/2024
**********************


If you have noticed, there are exactly 9 words in each of the 10 lines. What are the numbers supposed to mean? A significant point in time? September? Eternity?

---

Elton John - Your Song

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

Tampines Ave 2, 11.35 p.m

Sometimes you work some ungodly OT hours and you are hoping not to miss the last bus home...

photo by dsnake1



Tampines Ave 2, 11.35 p.m.


in the rain
the city walls
shuddered
with the sudden cold

the last
of the late night
stragglers
huddled at bus shelters

caught out
in the storm that
hammered
the sidewalks the trees

and jerky
vehicle headlights
skidded off
the glassy wet asphalt

on store fronts
limp banner ads
fluttered
in total surrender

as traffic lights
blinking angrily
protesting
their cyclops eyes mad

at the rain
and the wind's
brazen
intent to claim the night.



written 28/11/2010
revised 24/10/2011
****************

The prompt at Poets and Storytellers United this week is to write something "inspired by the idea of storms, literal or metaphorical". How convenient to have one sitting in my hard disk. :)

---

"There is peace even in the storm"

- Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

37℃

In a recent prompt at poetry writing group Poets and Storytellers United, admin Rosemary Nissen-Wade wants us to "rewrite one of your not-quite-working pieces by transcribing it backwards, and then following wherever that leads you."

photo by Pitsch from pixabay



37℃


by my feet
           the asphalt,
           sunbaked,
dead leaves crispy,
yellow painted lines
          cracked,
          flaking,
          the sighs
of vehicle tyres rushing by,
turning, churning,
          a chain gang
          herding
dust, paper, plastics
          to the kerbs,
the mynahs hide in the shades
not bothering about food,
the tired leaves
of July,
      keeps falling
          and then
          hesitant
      again,
the air
      unmoving,
           hot,
still silence.



26/02/2025
**********


And this is the original poem, posted on this blog 15 years ago, that was used to "write it backwards". It is reproduced below.


Spring


still silence
the air
hesitant
to move

the leaves of spring
are not green
not yet
like sighs
sun crisped
they drop
from boughs
to the asphalt
by my feet.



written 14/02/2010
Chinese New Year
revised 07/03/2010
******************

---

So dear reader, which poem do you prefer? After writing the new one, I still think the original is better, sharp and to the point. What I like about the new one is it goes like a single breath.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

a point in your life

This was written for a NaPoWriMo day.It has been posted on this blog before.

No, it has gathered many comments before. I am reposting it because I think it is a good look at ageing.

photo by dsnake1



a point in your life


so you come to a point in your life,
you feel cold, you feel old, booze
no longer excites, instead it plays punk
with your sphincters, the doctor sees you
and no longer asks what is bugging you
but tells you to keep off the oily stuff.

you watch weeds grow and wonder who
or which is more unwanted, the streets
growl at you and fumes and dust gets into
your eyes and coffee, children look at you
in fright and not merely because of your stubble,
and you don't rage anymore.

and so the best exercise you had in days
is to turn your head to watch that woman
in the short shorts walks by in the sidewalk
her full hips moving with a beat that
nearly stops your heart.

you watch the sun sets over the highrises
at the quay, someone mentions a drunk had
drowned in the river a couple of days back,
just a few paces where you sat, the day gets more
unsettling as a crow caws and tugs at a roadkill and
you fear your number may be up.



Written 06/04/2013
Revised 27/09/2024
****************


Each stanza is a one sentence poem, and I am wondering if each stanza can exist as a stand-alone mini poem by itself. 😁

image by dsnake1
generated by a game console with Soul Calibur V

---

With age comes some wisdom. And a lot more pills. - dsnake1

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2025