these are days

some days, an elephant sits on you...

photo by Maike und Bjorn Brõskamp at pixabay



these are days


in the news feed today the coronavirus had taken
a couple more of thousand lives

other countries seem far away, their names distant
and hard to pronounce

a crow looks at you from the top of a lamp post
cawing with mad laughter

we walk into days like this, like a trap-door
sprung, soaking with sweat

a guy calls at you from across the street and says
hi but your name is not johnny

looks like the morning you are looking for has
gone to the Colosseum with the lions

a garbage truck thunders past its vile breath
dusting you at the bus stop

the stray cat on the floor opens one eye and looks
at you, and closes it again.


written : 27/03/21
revised : 14/05/21
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Drop's - Tシャツと涙 (T-shirt and Tears)

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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

crime scene

Sometimes in the city, along the sides of roads, we come across burnt offerings of incense, and we usually give these sites a slight berth. This is because it is usually the place of an accident, often fatal, and superstitious or not, it is wise not to offend the spirits of the victims. It is usually a Chinese thing.

image by dsnake1 done with Sketchpad 5.1




crime scene


by the side of the road
a lime green pair
of tiny crocs

offerings

oranges
sweets
stumps of burnt candles
a blackened patch of grass

a floral scent of incense
still lingers
in the cold morning air

the rain that fell
last night
should have washed away
the last of the
blood stains
on the black white crossing...



20/11/2010
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midnight
\ \\\\ \\\
only the street lamps casting shadows


-- a haiku by dsnake1

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2019

apocalypse

inflated egos and nuclear codes...

photo by MabelAmber at pixabay




apocalypse


in the time when the stars fell on us
and two suns shone in the morning
and after that perpectual dusk followed
and black rain fell, sticky, smelling of metal

in the time that locusts ruled the skies
in clouds larger than bomber squadrons
and the rats and snakes fled in fear
from their burrows
and the crows flapped tired wings
resigned to surrender

in the time that boils and sores
and skin peeled off like wet parchment
and scorched lungs hungered for air
and hair dropped off like dried weeds

i look for you
in the fallen ruins
screaming your name
crawling over rubble
on bleeding limbs
as smoke & flames rise

like burning offerings to the dead


29/01/2007
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Do we still remember this song then? - Pink Floyd, Two Suns in the Sunset

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

icy

I wrote this piece recently for SingPoWriMo 2016 and posted it on my other blog. It was getting zilch eyeballs, so here it is! But seriously, it is about a sad subject.

image by dsnake1, done with Sketchpad 3.7



icy


in the time between
the first flame
and the last exhale
of breath
       is
the bubbling
of death
on a heated tin foil
the quick suck of
white fumes
     through
a straw
before the bones break
the flesh tears
the ants
   crawl on
       clammy
         skin
       slipping
sliding
    into
      the poisoned
        blood
       as
     the blades
are drawn

        &
     before
     the dawn

     icy
       dead

the dragon is too mean to chase



23/04/2016
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I am trying out a new, free and easy to use online art tool, Sketchpad 3.7. Still learning, but it is an amazing and fun tool. The above graphic was done with it.

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"My eyes are blind but I can see
The snowflakes glisten on the tree..."

--Black Sabbath, Snowblind


Shared on Poetry Pantry #304 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

Dreary

This is my entry for Haikuworld's February kukai in the free format category. The theme was "dreary".

Yes, dreary is my result. One vote again, 17th place out of 18. Guess I'm not cut out for this haiku thing. But hey, March kukai, here I come! And yes, I think the drawing is nicer than the poem. :)



image by dsnake1



dreary


flag-draped casket
finding words to comfort
fallen soldier's kin.