weed
Just what I felt like, one evening after work. Moody, moody.
This piece had been sitting in my hard disk for years and I was wondering why I was hesitant to post it. Maybe the language? But what the heck , here it is, with all its warts.
photo by chaka
image from morguefile.com
weed
oh, weed
how long have you
been standing by
this venomous roadside
with me
poking your head
out of the asphalt?
i know we are both
old and
undernourished
and unloved
but what the fuck
who cares
who cares
not the tired masses
heading home
the blackbirds
pecking crumbs
in the dirt
by your side
and so my friend
as we are
breathing the exhaust
fumes the carbon
the farts
of the city
this evening
this evening
is unkind again
the stars falling
while
waiting
for that bus
to take me
home
23/07/2009
**********
A weed is no more than a flower in disguise.
– James Lowell
A foreign journalist recently labelled us as a "miserable" people. I don't know where she gets this impression. Maybe we complain a lot, gripe like hell. The taxes for smokes and booze just went up. We pay a ransom to watch the coming World Cup games on TV. We are sardines on our public transport during peak hours. But we still give up our seats in the buses and trains, to the elderly, the pregnant. We still look after our needy. We volunteer. Some days ago, a lady (someone from my country, I must add) ran out of a shop to apply CPR to an elderly man, a total stranger, who collapsed on the pavement, apparently from a heart attack. She probably saved his life.
I guess we just look miserable.
Shared on Poetry Pantry #196 at Poets United.
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2014
This piece had been sitting in my hard disk for years and I was wondering why I was hesitant to post it. Maybe the language? But what the heck , here it is, with all its warts.
photo by chaka
image from morguefile.com
weed
oh, weed
how long have you
been standing by
this venomous roadside
with me
poking your head
out of the asphalt?
i know we are both
old and
undernourished
and unloved
but what the fuck
who cares
who cares
not the tired masses
heading home
the blackbirds
pecking crumbs
in the dirt
by your side
and so my friend
as we are
breathing the exhaust
fumes the carbon
the farts
of the city
this evening
this evening
is unkind again
the stars falling
while
waiting
for that bus
to take me
home
23/07/2009
**********
A weed is no more than a flower in disguise.
– James Lowell
A foreign journalist recently labelled us as a "miserable" people. I don't know where she gets this impression. Maybe we complain a lot, gripe like hell. The taxes for smokes and booze just went up. We pay a ransom to watch the coming World Cup games on TV. We are sardines on our public transport during peak hours. But we still give up our seats in the buses and trains, to the elderly, the pregnant. We still look after our needy. We volunteer. Some days ago, a lady (someone from my country, I must add) ran out of a shop to apply CPR to an elderly man, a total stranger, who collapsed on the pavement, apparently from a heart attack. She probably saved his life.
I guess we just look miserable.
Shared on Poetry Pantry #196 at Poets United.
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2014
Labels: heartlands, landscape, Poetry, rant, Singapore, urban, Work
posted by dsnake1 at 11:50 PM
15 Comments:
who cares for roadside weeds...
hard to feel like one too...all the people driving by, not caring even to notice...
Yup!
Both commentaries are well expressed and written... you poor bastard :-)
ZQ
Brian,
i was comparing myself to one. it was a bad and moody day. :)
ZQ,
thank you! yup. :)
Farts of the city....... brilliant line.
'home'...standing there alone looks lonely and adds to the sadness...
Oh the weeds have a resilience .. that we sometimes need.. waiting for a bus. being pissed of at a meeting or just moody,,, I liked this a lot.
I have often felt like that dandelion with its head poking up thru the concrete, my friend.......love this poem, and love your comments after, too. It is for such moments as the woman giving CPR that we keep on going........
I can relate. Well done. (My poetry book is "Weeds".)
Well, I guess we all are weeds in one manner of speaking. Depends on the day, depends on our perspective.
madhumakhi,
:)
thank you!
Sumana,
glad you see the visual impact by placing 'home' alone from the rest of the poem. :)
Bjorn,
yes, weeds have a resilience that we sometimes need. i am not too sure what i was pissed off that day, probably a lot of unpleasant stuff. :D
Sherry,
it's nice to know there are such selfless people around. :)
McGuffy Ann,
Thank you! :)
Mary,
it's not nice to compare us to weeds, but some days are like that...
It's a look that hides possibilities, maybe by choice. I like the continuation of this poem in your comments.
People may not like weeds, but they sure don't care and keep growing, refusing to be tamed! ;)
Susan,
thank you! i was just expressing my opinion in the comment after the poem. yes, we have some very obnoxious, selfish and ugly people, but not all of us are like that.
Kerridwen,
thanks for visiting! i like your comment, about people refusing to be tamed. yeah. :)
Happy Wednesday :-)
April 15th
Hope all is well.
Your latest "non-piece" is non-written very well.
Missed you this week.
:-)
ZQ
sorry, pal. really lost my way trying to write last week. maybe the office work tire me out, maybe the muse went awol...
i try not to post a "non-piece" this coming weekend. :D
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