Sunday, January 31, 2016

taking a break...




photo by dsnake1





Dear Readers,

I am taking a short break for the coming Lunar New Year holidays. Should be back posting in the middle of February, if I am feeling not too lazy.






岁岁平安





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, January 24, 2016

every little thing

It is the little things that comes back to tug your heart...




photo by jdurham
image from morguefile.com




every little thing




the ache comes back sometimes
you thought the pain has passed
in the dark a sudden
flare of a match
as it lights a cigarette

it comes back on the train
during rush hour the click
of high heels on concrete
a pair of long legs
in a short skirt

it walks with me in malls
aimless through the muzak
mere squares of glass but for
a teddy bear smiling back
from a display window

back out in the streets
the weather mean and unforeseen
cold rain on my face
sudden, on a evening's day.
just like the night you left.


28/03/2014
**********






“I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes”

-- Vladimir Nabokov


Shared on Poetry Pantry #286 at Poets United.






© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, January 17, 2016

please slow down

This is a response to the Midweek Motif prompt at Poets United, and the theme was "Food". I know, this is the weekend. The world is getting too fast for me.




photo by dsnake1




please slow down


all i had this morning
was a hasty ham sandwich
and a milo washing down
my meds

oh how i dream of my
steaming chwee kueh topped
with sinful bits of
preserved radish.

but time is a tightfisted
master swinging his whip
and there is a bus
to catch.




written 16/12/2015
revised 13/01/2016
******************


Note : chwee kueh is a traditional Chinese breakfast food in Singapore and Malaysia. Literally meaning "water cake", it is a steamed rice cake with an oily (and cholesterol laden) topping of preserved radish.







"Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.”

Orson Welles



Shared on Poetry Pantry #285 at Poets United.





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, January 10, 2016

The Shortest Poems

How short can a poem gets?




photo by krosseel
image from morguefile.com





A haiku, 3 lines, 17 syllables? Ginsberg's American Sentence, 1 sentence, 17 syllables, no more no less. Or a monostitch, a one line poem, usually less than 17 syllables?

Or Strickland Gillilan's couplet "Lines on the Antiquity of Microbes" :

      Adam
      Had 'em.


Seems like the title is longer than the poem.


Or "Ode to a Goldfish", often attributed to Ogden Nash :

      Oh, wet
      pet


Just 3 syllables, my friends.







Or how about this one, just one word "lighght" by Aram Saroyan, which caused a little storm between the National Endowment for the Arts and the U.S. Congress.




Or how about this one, "ly" by Geof Huth? Was he thinking of adverbs when he wrote this?








Or this by Bill Pauly (from The Haiku Handbook) which doesn't even had a word. Do you see the cat on the fence?


And in my opinion, the best shortest poem, if there is such a thing, is by jwcurry. Just a lower case i dotted with his own fingerprint. Like this (done with my own fingerprint, for this illustration).







And from me, just for the fun for this post, 2 "short poems".






Do you see through the Lies?





another visual word from me. and how about this monostich that i wrote at my other blog :

pregnant silence after she said she was.


I know. Our attention span in this internet age is shorter than the power cable on the computer. This post is getting too draggy, so it is time to cut it short. Promise to be back with a longer poem next post. :)


THE
END

(this is not a short poem)





sometimes, the less said, the better.


Shared on Poetry Pantry #285 at Poets United.





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, January 03, 2016

harmony

Ah, I have grown older...





photo by pedrojperez
image from morguefile.com




harmony



be at peace with everything around you
there is a purpose for every existence

rejoice in the little things

a flock of blackbirds in haphazard flight
a bolt of lightning in the summer afternoon
autumn leaves catching the evening's light
a grove of bamboo bending with the wind

the wise words of a child in your arms
the arpeggios of a guitar on a cold night
the quiet calmness in yourself as you kneel
before the buddha, seeking a path from harm

rejoice in these little things

even the very air you breathe
the soil that crumples at your feet
the rain that splatter on your face
the racing of your heartbeat

rejoice in these little things
for these are the reasons for our being.






written 22/04/2011
revised 20/12/2015
******************






“If you want to make beautiful music, you must play the black and the white notes together.”

― Richard M. Nixon








© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, December 13, 2015

rick mobbs' image prompt (4)

This is a painting by Rick Mobbs. Way back in 2008, Rick offered on his blog a weekly image prompt for us wannabe writers to ponder over it. He calls it The Storybook Collaborative. Those images are paintings that he has done, and out of the project are some interesting and excellent poems.

Back to the painting below. What does it tells you? A war machine! Look at all those guns firing, that clenched fist! Of course it could be about the military industrial complex, but war is easier to write.




Painting by Rick Mobbs
painting by Rick Mobbs




bleed



and since the first
smash of a neolithic
axe
blood still runs red
and bones pile on
      bones
on forgotten
battlegrounds
rust bleeds
on
spear tips in museums
this arrowhead
could have pierced
a skull
at Hastings

and
what have been
learned
from the
blood letting?
   nothing
   nothing
but
the mounting
body count
and more
ingenious ways
of maiming and
   terrorizing

and so
metal tanks
    entangled
in barbed wire
at Flanders
    armoured choppers
       spitting metal
    rain from
miniguns
whirling blades
    over roof tops
vapour trail
of a
    stratofortress

ICBMs
riding
on a
tail
of

f

 i
  r
   e




written 11/11/2008
revised 01/06/2009
*******************








"My brother's dreams once here did soar
Until he died at the hand of needless war."

Uriah Heep, The Park.



If you want to read my other poems that were inspired by Mr. Mobbs's paintings, click on the links below :

image prompt (1) : on Icarus' wings
image prompt (2) : the lights of my heart
image prompt (3) : i see a raven in the sky







© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

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Sunday, December 06, 2015

dove and snake

Life's not fair but we move on...



photo by bm cm ath
image from morguefile.com




dove and snake




look
people pissed you off
i know

a truck
backfiring
startles we learned that from
the jungles
and wadis

you can
shoot snow
into your veins do we care?
but why
let them win?

no reason
to
make the evening's headlines
or
whatever

it's not
like russian roulette you hold
the ace



06/10/2015
**********






Do you relate more to the dove or to the snake?

*

from “Form” by Louise Mathias



I was inspired by the lines from the above poem (and a rather moody day). This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in sullen ways.





© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

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