Wednesday, January 28, 2015

that you left me







photo by G Hodan
image from publicdomainpictures.net



that you left me


i was afraid
time will erase
your memories

your smiles

and i am
getting old


so today
i will just
write

some words

i cannot
send you
a card
like before

or take your
hands in mine

and point to
the stars
in the sky

take this as
a poem

for you

and if you
have read it
you will smile

and would
have cried.



28.01.2008
**********








"Sometimes, in moments of quiet solitude,the past catches up with you and holds your hand."
-- dsnake1, urban poems, Feb 2008



This is another re-post. But today is a special day...




© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

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Sunday, January 18, 2015

ash

I know I shouldn't be posting this, the first post of the year...




photo by Yuriy
image from publicdomainpictures






ash




walking across an empty car park, my heart has taken on the darkness of this night. i am thinking about a lot of things, the twelve hour shift i have just clocked, the hunger in my belly, the way this country is going, this rain that is still falling. the two NYC cops. Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas anymore. you want to run tears like the cold rain that had fallen on your face.


i punch a coke
from the vending machine.
wish it was a beer.


24/12/2014
**********






"and i shelter in the dark
like bats seeking moonlight"

-- dsnake1, after a rain



Shared on Poetry Pantry #235 at Poets United.





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

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Thursday, January 01, 2015

a lesson

Raise your hands all those who agree that 2014 had been mostly a bad year.




digital sketch by dsnake1, made with Sketchpad



a lesson


On a New Year's eve, as I was about to go to work in the afternoon, a lady knocked on my front door. She was selling ballpoint pens. She had a card stating she was partially blind. Her dress had seen better days, but she was neat. She was also missing a couple of front teeth.

As I was in a hurry, I declined. She smiled and apologised and started to walk away. And then like a slap, it hit me. This is New Year's eve, for goodness sake. Why were you so mean? And I ran and caught up with the lady at the lift landing.

So I bought a pen from the lady, all for two bucks. I am kicking myself now. I mean, how much can one make from two bucks? I should have bought a few more. Here I was griping about working on New Year's eve, and here was a lady who would probably never be able to find a job that can pay her a decent wage.

Today has taught me a lesson. Slow down, man, slow down. Breathe, and then breathe deeply again. You may be able to see better.


31/12/2014
**********






Here's wishing all my readers a safe and happy New Year!





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

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Monday, December 08, 2014

urban snapshots in monochrome : wing

When I was starting on this blog, I wrote a series of short poems called "urban snapshots in monochrome". These were based on snippets of images I came across, mostly during my journeys to and from work. Why "monochrome"? I will not tell you. :)

I am very busy with work, so I will just make do with this old post this week.





drawing by dsnake1




urban snapshots in monochrome : wing




a torn wing
snapped
like a black scythe
on wet asphalt
       in parking lot

somewhere a crow
will not fly
or is dead.


18.03.2006
**********







Shared on Poetry Pantry #230 at Poets United.


The image is a ink and pencil sketch on paper, and then scanned.






© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

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Sunday, November 30, 2014

one tree

Today, on a bicycle ride along the coast, I came across a tree, probably a pong-pong tree (cerbera odollam), all by itself, along the beach. A strange sight, because most of the trees,if not all, were in little clusters around.

This brought back some memories because as a child, us village kids would like to play around trees and came to learn which fruits are edible and which are poisonous. No, the tree that I came across today was not the old tree of our youth. That tree, and others, were probably cut down to make way for a container port.

But it did inspire the following poem. :)





photo by dsnake1




one tree




one tree
where the sea salt ever sprays
we played under its leaves
as children
laughing, mocking, crying.
now we are returning home
as old men
carrying
guilt, loss, scars
and still
she greets us
the tree
where the sea salt still sprays
her leaves waving in the wind
embracing us
as children.
this tree.



30/11/2014
**********






Shared on Poetry Pantry #229 at Poets United.
Hope to be back next week with a better poem. :)






© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

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Sunday, November 23, 2014

the light

I have grown to love this poem. I wrote this originally in response to a prompt. It was about my life in a squatter colony when I was a child, where the home has no electricity or running water.

The "light" in the poem could refer to the physical light itself, and, as I realised later, it could be a metaphor for the values that our parents taught us, without which, my path could have been vastly different.





photo by xandert
image from morguefile.com



the light


you know,
the light from the single
pressure lamp in our hut
keeps the night at bay
keeps the barking dogs outside
the night

there is no tv, no radio
to distract my school work
except the light will dim
after a while
and dad will pump the lamp every hour
or so

to keep the kerosene flowing
feeding the flames,
and mum joins me at
the only table
mending a dress with what squares of fabric
she has

while dad reads the day's papers
crumpled and smudged
from passing through
many hands
while outside in the village the dogs
still bark.



written 09/02/10
revised 09/09/10
*****************






“There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.”

― Leonard Cohen, Selected Poems, 1956-1968



Shared on Poetry Pantry #228 at Poets United.





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

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Sunday, November 16, 2014

Ah Chui

On the path of my life, I come across many interesting people...




photo by Alvimann
image from morguefile.com




Ah Chui




He is almost seventy
but tough as steel.
I look upon him
more like a friend
than the cleaner
who cleans my office.

He always wears
a long-sleeved shirt,
even on hot days
as if he is hiding something,
a scar, a tattoo.
I never ask him.

We take smoking breaks
in the hoist bays, staircases.
He tells me he had a business
in Beijing. It failed.
I did not ask if that's
the reason he came back.

One day he gives me his lighter
a carved dragon of metal.
Take it, he just said, and the
next day I did not see him again.
Sometimes there are things
best left unanswered.



10/11/2014
**********






“Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good imposed upon him?”

― Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange



Shared on Poetry Pantry #227 at Poets United.





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

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