fourteen words

A lifetime, and an instant...

AI generated image by dsnake1 at Freepik



fourteen words


rain,
always,
on someone's
funeral,
but
not as cold
as the night
you
left.



11/09/2025
**********



The prompt at Friday Writings #194 asks us to "share 14 loving words, or words about love – any kind of love, for anyone or anything".

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And another fourteen words :


" her hands in mine
warm as morning's light,
there was no need for words "

partially from : "and a time for love" by dsnake1

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© 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
**********

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"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

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

somewhere, redux

Maybe she is having a better, happier life now...

image by Aurel_Cham at pixabay



somewhere, redux


it's been twenty-eight years
you should have been
re-incarnated
and
if you did
you could be
a mother
by now

and if i walk past you
somewhere in a street
in Redhill
or
Tampines
would i still
recognise
you?

and perhaps i will,
or maybe not
but if i see
that walk
those
swaying hips
in that mall
or park
that voice
that laughter

and if our eyes should meet
in that split
moment in time
you
will understand
those trembling
lips
those brimming tears
in my eyes.


20/04/2022
**********


The prompt at Poets and Storytellers United is to write about "the last time you had a good laugh or cry"

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"I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever."

― Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

happening at a riot near you

Rosemary at Poets & Storytellers United would like us to be inspired by the phrase, ‘broken glass crunching under the boot steps', and write a poem or story about it.

digital montage by dsnake1 with GIMP



happening at a riot near you


             Juan get back into the house!

but Juan watch the sergeant raise his baton
a row of riot guns raise like palisades
the arcs of the smoke actually graceful
the cartridges snaking, rolling
between cars
                sneakers
                 trash bins
       barricades
and
    run ning feet
and courage is not a word to say
when the air wants to tear out your eyes
your lungs.

the soldiers raise their shields and batons
their boots in step
                 in step
the phalanx rolls on
metal teeth of a meat grinder

swish cruch crunch bish craack

Juan wants to be a man
but Juan is still a boy

I am a boy! I AM A BOY!

even the blackbirds rise like shrapnel and flee

broken glass crunching under the boot steps
blood faithfully follows the cracks in the asphalt.



06/07/2023
**********

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Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - Ohio

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

every morning the sun looks in (#2)

in limbo in the city, and in grief...

photo by dsnake1



every morning the sun looks in (#2)


Every morning the sun looks in with the gaze of a bored child.
The dust on the linoleum is thick but what is another million motes?

I am just waiting for that grenade to roll across that linoleum floor.
It's not that we like to argue but the words are lost in translation.

But now I would give anything to hear us argue again, no translations.
You say I am handsome in a dumb way and is probably not a virgin.

You are beautiful in a dumb way, the way you look into the future.
Everyone said you are a Japanese but the only word you know is sayonara.

Kyoto, sakura, Harajku, but the only word I said to you is sayonara.
Anything that occured on this planet, passes us by, the planet crying.

They say the Paris Peace Talks stalled, but the planet is nonchalant.
I watch young kids grow up into gangsters but you didn't watch with me.

Remember that kid yelling, fuck!, and you go to him with a pair of scissors?
Every morning the sun looks in with the gaze of a bored child.



21/04/2023
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This form is called a duplex poem. It is a combination of the sonnet, the ghazal and the blues. It has 14 lines, arranged in couplets, in which the first line of the couplet repeats words and phrases from the previous line. For the last couplet, the last line repeats the very first line.

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A Perfect Circle - Eat The Elephant

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

minus one

This was a challenge on Day 2 of SingPoWriMo 2023 (Singapore Poetry Writing Month). It was to write a "liwuli". A what? Okay, description below.

photo by Samuel Ramos at Unsplash



minus one


It should not be this way of course, a hard cookie crumbling. It is unfair for both of us. And chemo is not cheap either.

It is now a night of waiting
quick footsteps
cold coffee.

Have you seen tracers firing into the night sky, are they like red ribbons?



02/04/2023
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A liwuli is a poetic form deriving from South East Asian rhetorical traditions. It consists of 3 stanzas:

• the first stanza contains exactly 31 syllables in the form of a prose poem, and should be phrased entirely in terms of instructions.
• the second stanza consists of 14 syllables, and is broken into 3 lines (the length of each line is up to the writer as long as its 14 syllables).
• the third stanza consists of 19 syllables, broken into as many lines you want. the third stanza should be phrased entirely in terms of questions.

When properly executed, it is a very beautiful form.

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The Strawbs - The Winter Long

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

ten years

"a mynah lands on the
aircon unit outside.
looks at me
perhaps to ride the rain
perhaps to see me weep."

- dsnake1, teddy bear

photo by Amy_Z at pixabay



ten years


ten years?
you left me
carrying the memories
not even a goodbye?
but such courage
kicked fear in the face.
once, just once
you cried
WHY ME?
the tears down your cheeks
big as pearls
such grace
the tears on your eyelashes
dew on a cold morning.

ten years already?
seems like not long ago
in that hospital room
holding hands
waiting for your chemo
but now i am touching
the marble slab
at your grave
tracing your name
no, smoothing what hair
that is left
as my tears now
big as pearls
such helplessness
as i once held
your frail hands.


written : 28/01/2004
revised : 28/01/2023
*****************

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Reina del Cid - Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd cover)

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

how deep is

"if you imagine us scurrying down to the
tunnels, each of us is an apparition"

dsnake1, the night sticks like wet petals

artwork by Saydung89 at pixabay



how deep is


how deep is
   your love?
down in the
subway tunnels
on late nights
   some nights
aimless rides
the tunnel walls
just inches
from my face
flashing by
our lives
on a reel
of memory
sliding by
till it all ends
on a bleak night
and here i am
all alone
   in the
rumbling wombs
of the trains
   that song
playing again
on the tracks
how deep is
   your love?
till i resurface
to the neon
drenched streets
to the city lights
           starlight



written 21/04/2012
revised 10/07/2012
****************

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"the train doors close
like a breath exhaling"

dsnake1, and all i see are wet petals on asphalt

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

watching the sunrise

Sunrises are beautiful, and can be sad...

photo by Jacky Zeng at Unsplash



watching the sunrise


i hold you tight in the dawn
                        in the dark
i should have let you sleep on
but you wanted to see the sunrise
i should have brought you
to the beach, a hilltop, a park
maybe another day
but the view out of our window
is not exactly lovely
just some grey rooftops
the metal grills on our windows,
                                 rusting
and a carpark that's just
coughing to life
but just holding you
standing by the windows
the world just beginning to stir
blackbirds leaping off precipices
lights flickering on
in little squares
that are warm homes
and today's sunrise
is disappointingly dull
some red lines groaning
shunned by an overcast sky
but you still smile
through the morphine
the tumours
the pain briefly forgotten
and in that moment
your pale face briefly
                   do glow

i should have let you sleep on
but you wanted to see the sunrise
you said it could be your last
but i still have you today
that's all it matters
and i have to thank
the sunrise for that.


21/08/2013
**********

Rosemary at Poets and Storytellers United would like us to "share whatever sunset may inspire in you". I am writing about a sunrise instead.

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Metallica - Nothing Else Matters

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

when the night seems long

Rommy at Poets and Storytellers United invite us to write a piece inspired by a song lyric, and to include the song title.

"Live alone in a paradise, that makes me think of two" from Neil Young's song "Old Man". 😧

image by CDD20 at pixabay



when the night seems long


when the night seems long
and uncomfortable
and the questions
have no answers
is it supposed to be like this?
how do you deal with death?
tell it to wait, take a break?
tell it not to take her away?
old man,
he wakes up in the early dawn
crying
         looking
for ghosts under the bed.
he hears her songs
drifting with the wind
he looks for
her old cassettes
her favourite songs
just to hold in his hands
his eyesight is failing
his hands are shaking
he is the tossed coin
rolling into a gutter
he looks into the mirror
and sees another man.
an older man
he does not know.

and gently
dawn's light puts its hands
on his shoulders
and tousles his hair.


21/06/2022
**********

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Neil Young - Old Man

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

longing

Losing someone you loved dearly will break your heart, but they will live always in that broken heart.

pencil sketch by dsnake1


longing


We were night owls. We worked hard, partied hard after dark. We pub crawled, we drank. We loved the booming bass lines of live bands, the husky, sultry serenades of sexy songbirds. We loved bright shirts, loud colours, and sometimes we weren't sure which smell was stronger on our polyester, the cologne or the alcohol.

But above all, above us, we loved watching the stars. I tried to tell her that stars are just balls of fire, tried to explain to her about light years and the doppler effect and such. It's not very romantic. And she just smiled. To her, the stars are just jewels in the sky, mysteries not to be solved. So I just tried to point out to her, the Dog Star, the Big Dipper, and the stories behind the names, with what limited knowledge of the stars that I had. We would sit at the breakwaters, the piers, at the esplanade, the beaches, or the benches of city parks, looking up, sometimes her head on my shoulders.

But no more. She passed on, you see, a star herself, snuffed out. Is there a star less then? I can't tell, there are too many. Maybe the stars mirror us. A star extinguishes, someone loses a loved one. Maybe there are other star-crossed lovers like us, over the dark expanses, looking up at their night skies. Maybe there are wars being fought out there. Maybe the light I saw, was us a lifetime before.

if i could pluck the stars
put them in a jar
will you come back to me?


11/04/2013
**********

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Drop's - 月光 [moonlight]

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

love songs

she sat on a high stool
plucking away on a guitar,
plucking our heartstrings
as she sang of love
and wanderings

dsnake1 - the pub singer

pencil sketch by dsnake1



love songs


We woke up late on a Sunday morning and while everyone else is going to church or the supermarket, or to trade gossip at a coffeeshop, the first thing she do was to go to the kitchen in her teddies, boil some water, fry some eggs and bacon, make some tea and coffee, the stirring spoon on glass like a wind chime, bring all that greasy stuff before the TV while I was warming up the karaoke machine.

After breakfast, we put our feet up on the coffee table, smoking our cigarettes, debating on which laserdisc to put into the player, she insisting on her Mandarin love songs, me my rock ballads and finally we agree on Andy Lau, slot in the heavy disc, and as the images flicker on on screen, we clutch our microphones, wave to the air audience in front, and wait for the tune to blast out of the speakers.



21/01/2022
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蘇芮 - 是否 / Su Rui -- Whether or Not

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

come home, we will enjoy the spring

Come home.
This year, we’ll enjoy the spring.

*

from “Rows of Small Mountains” by Li Qingzhao (translated by Wendy Chen)

I was inspired by the lines from the above poem (and some intense longing). This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in tender ways.

photo by Han Chenxu from Unsplash



come home, we will enjoy the spring


on new year's day
i switch on all
the lights in the house
because the new year
will be much brighter
like this, or so
the ancients said.

i try my best but there is still so much dust on the window grills, i do not have your eye for details.

this year, we will enjoy the spring.
i have some flowers
in the old vase
there is beer in the fridge
and oranges and cola
and some prawns and greens
which i may or may not cook

i try my best but i am getting old, my memory misses a step and i wonder about that teardrop on my cheek.

come home, come home,
we will enjoy the spring.
we will switch on the lights
we will knock off the beer
we will eat the food i cooked
we will hug and love and live
like the old days


08/09/2019
**********

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Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here (Acoustic Cover by MonaLisa Twins)

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

such

the seven sisters, they shine so brightly
oh, but look again, one is still shy.

pen & water colour sketch by dsnake1



such


such is the void i wander
shaking with grief on cold nights
shards still pierce the heart lightly
sweet persimmons thick with ash
softly sits on her altar
summer's gone with her passing
she takes her place in the stars.


12/11/2021
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Shared on Friday Writings #4, where the prompt was to write about pain, psychological or physical.

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Pleiades is a poetic form invented in 1999 by Craig Tigerman.

There is only one word allowed in the title.
The poem is followed by a single seven-line stanza.
The first word in each line begins with the same letter as the title.
There is an added requirement of restricting the line length to six syllables, but that is optional. In my poem, I used seven syllables in each stanza

The Pleiades is a star cluster in the constellation Taurus. The ancients named these stars the seven sisters: Alcyone, Asterope, Celaeno, Electra, Maia, Merope, and Tygeta.

The poetic form The Pleiades is aptly named: the seven lines can be said to represent the seven sisters, and the six syllables represent the nearly invisible nature of one sister.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

cards (happy birthday, love)

to look into you and see eternity.
-- dsnake1

pencil sketch by dsnake1 from a card's design




cards (happy birthday, love)


you ask
why do i still
keep these cards?
all these years
in a cardboard box
dusty among the books
on the shelves
the sunshine
seldom kisses
and sometimes i
take them out
touch the paper
run my fingers over
the indentations
her neat handwriting
heart in
every line & letter
each card
a different year
but always
the same message

happy birthday, love.

i ask
can i forget then?
these are the songs
i will not
hear again
her voices
her joy
that there will be
no more words
since
that night
the night
swallow up the stars



19/03/2014
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Accept - Kill The Pain

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

there is life yet

" that it rained in June
that our cigarette tips
still burn red and hot

in the cold rain,
smoke trailing like lost dreams
as the world winded down,"

- dsnake1, before the next day

image by Cdd20 at pixabay



there is life yet


to come back home
like coming back from a war
all fights lost
sitting on
the cold ceramic floor
wondering where
the day has died
pulls out a cigarette
pulls out the tab
of a beer can
sitting quietly
sitting in the
gathering darkness
listening
listening
to the sound
of the old refrigerator
fighting back
looking
looking at
the TV staring back
a cold cyclops eye
glaring
and listen
listen!
the distant wail
of the neighbour's baby
crying
crying for milk perhaps
it is comforting to know
some things remain the same
now the father
and the mother bickering
yes, yes, there is life yet.



17/04/2021
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BAND-MAID - the non-fiction days

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

white lilies

on the other side will i find you?...

photo by Mathew Schwartz at Unsplash


white lilies


because i saw a bed of lilies
last night
white and glossy and rain kissed
i kept thinking of death

how it should be life and joy and
our home
new floor tiles and italian furniture
and perhaps wines on rainy days

because it was eighteen years ago
one night
the tunnel lights throbbing heartbeats
and i, holding a bouquet of flowers

white lilies baby breath laces
pure scented
for my bride the next big day
to match that glorious gown we selected

and the lady who sat opposite
nodded smiled
knowing what the flowers were for
that the night will be forever

had it been so many years then?
her joy
when she took the lilies that day
and even her name was Flower

and i could not touch those lilies
so white
so delicately alive that my body
shook and not from the chill.


written : sept 2012
revised : 16/04/2019
******************

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theme song from movie Spirited Away - Always with Me

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

these trains

riding the trains before smartphones took over the world...

Commonwealth MRT Station, Singapore
photo by dsnake1


these trains


i ride
     these trains
         quiet rage
             looking at tunnel walls
                               dark walls
                    roaring past
separated by a metal door
try
   reading newspapers
          the previous day's wars
                       football games
          to pass the time
    else i sleep
            standing
            holding onto grab poles
                                           in
                this heaving beast's
     metal belly
as metal wheels
             grind
                 on tortured tracks
i am thinking of the wasted day in the office
as departing station
           after station
                   the recorded audio reminding
                  DOORS CLOSING !!
          the time seems
to have stood

still

still
     these dark walls
      darkly rage by
      se parated only
      by a metal door


written 13.05.1998
revised 25.02.2021
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BAND-MAID - Alone

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

days and days

there is no darker territory than the no man's land between life and death..

photo by Adrian Kirkegaard at Unsplash


days and days


should i say that the clock in the ward
has stopped working? that someone should fix it?
that the people in the beds don't care,
because the days that have passed
are all but dim memories and time is
meaningless, or all of everything?

my mother, she is asleep in that hospital bed
holding a half-eaten biscuit. i cannot bear
to wake her, i am tired from a day's work,
i want to feed her the porridge i brought
and i look at this frail woman, my mother,
her fingers curled stiff like talons and
the dried bits of rice on her bedsheets,
there is an ache in the heart
the pain i cannot understand.

should i say that this is not fair,
that the day would carry on its usual
business as i walk out of the gates?
should i tell that she woke up and
tried to call my name, that the smile
she gave me broke my heart?



18/06/2020
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Update 16 July 2021 -
I wrote this as a submission for an anthology of poetry about palliative care (open to 26 Asia Pacific countries and territories, in 15 languages). Yes, it made it into the anthology. 😃

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"in my eyes my mother is dying and yet all i am thinking are the numerals stenciled on the oxygen tank and all the while the night is still raining,"

- dsnake1, mother (it's about not giving up)

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020

candles

some things, we don't forget.

colour pencil sketch by dsnake1



candles


we lit candles
on birthdays

drank wine
kissed lips

night walks
star maps

now i bring wine
to your altar

trying to smile
wiping tears

telling you
how i am coping

as i light candles
on your anniversaries


written     :   20/06/2015
expanded :   27/10/2020
********************

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BAND-MAID - Endless Story

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020