Tampines Ave 2, 11.35 p.m

Sometimes you work some ungodly OT hours and you are hoping not to miss the last bus home...

photo by dsnake1



Tampines Ave 2, 11.35 p.m.


in the rain
the city walls
shuddered
with the sudden cold

the last
of the late night
stragglers
huddled at bus shelters

caught out
in the storm that
hammered
the sidewalks the trees

and jerky
vehicle headlights
skidded off
the glassy wet asphalt

on store fronts
limp banner ads
fluttered
in total surrender

as traffic lights
blinking angrily
protesting
their cyclops eyes mad

at the rain
and the wind's
brazen
intent to claim the night.



written 28/11/2010
revised 24/10/2011
****************

The prompt at Poets and Storytellers United this week is to write something "inspired by the idea of storms, literal or metaphorical". How convenient to have one sitting in my hard disk. :)

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"There is peace even in the storm"

- Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

our old home

The prompt at Poets and Storytellers United asks us what conjures up "Home". There are perhaps many images that do that, and I would like to share this old poem (written and published here about a decade ago) about an old place I grew up in.

pencil sketch by dsnake1



our old home


looking out of the taxi from the viaducts
of the expressway

i saw the lights in the huge yards bathing the port
like day

the containers stacked as neatly as colourful
lego bricks

the cranes over them like metal brachiosauruses
breathing steam


once upon a time my cousin and i
catch catfishes

where the giant ships at the wharves
now berthed

not caring about the stings
or drowning


today as the last evening lights
scattered off

offices and warehouses ringed by a
chain-link fence

casting shadows and memories on a
concrete strip

there used to stand a house where I
called home.



15/11/2013
**********

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"Tomorrow, we will be flying over the South China Sea
& home"

dsnake1 - lonely when away from home

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

over the rooftops

I wrote this on a wet rainy day looking out from my kitchen window, and this piece was also partly inspired by a Henry David Thoreau poem. I know, this is not a very cheerful poem (as most of my poems are). It was even published here before, but few eyeballs (the cheerlessness?). So here it is again.

photo by Daniel van den Berg at Unsplash



over the rooftops


over the rooftops from which
the blackbirds have passed

the clouds hung like a wet veil
as the evening retreated

a flash of lightning lit up a second
white as a shroud

the wind moaned by, trapping dust
and leaves in its blast.



30/04/2012
**********

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and this is the poem that inspired the above :

On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand Has Pass'd


On fields o'er which the reaper's hand has pass'd
Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,
My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind
And of such fineness as October airs,
There after harvest could I glean my life
A richer harvest reaping without toil,
And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will
In subtler webs than finest summer haze.

-- Henry David Thoreau

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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
**********



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

before the rain

Something old from NaPo days. Short, like the shower that inspired it.

photo by Nick van den Berg at Unsplash


before the rain


The grey clouds rolled away
the afternoon sun
like a squad car shooing off
the crowd at a crime scene,

pulled DO-NOT-CROSS tapes
across the sky
with flares of lightning,
and the blackbirds,
perched at the edges
of the roofs
of apartment blocks,

hesitant
to fly.


05/04/2009
**********


Shared on Friday Writings #56: Cozy. This poem is certainly not cozy. 😁

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Uriah Heep - Rain

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

how is your maths today?

So, I overheard...
If you read the picture upside down, it answers the question...

digital sketch by dsnake1 with Sketchpad 5.1



how is your maths today?


a schoolboy was talking to his friend.
how is your maths today?

i wanted to tell him it's terrible.
it just doesn't add up.

i am spending more than i earned

i am supposed to work eight hours
but today it's something like nine.
or ten.

and no extra pay.

so my maths ain't too good today.

and it's gonna get complicated

taxi fares has gone bonkers
train and bus fares have drifted north
electricity tariffs are going up again
after how many agains.
inflation rate is only 5.2%

so my maths ain't too good today.


25/04/2012
**********


written for NaPoWriMo and first published in my other blog, i write too..

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I don't like to brag but I put together a puzzle in one day, and the box says 2 to 5 years.

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© 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

to the pigeons of my block

Columba livia. Nice name, but you certainly have a haughty attitude...

photo by dsnake1



to the pigeons of my block


you are fearless, feckless
you think you owned the turf
the void decks, the lift landings
you shit indiscriminately

you walk, mostly waddle
little heads nodding
like some fat capitalist
counting his stocks

ready-eyed, sometimes red
like my bad hangover
you spy some stuff you leap
like plump ballerinas

eh, what's for lunch today?
rice/corn & chicken bones
someone's ancestral offerings
the joss sticks still burning

you take, like racket money
no questions asked, the bullies
muscling off the bald, old ones
to get at the leftover scraps

and when you are contended
you fly off to the eaves
your homes, cooing, fussing
trying making peace with us.


17/10/2021
**********

Shared on Friday Writings #3 at Poets and Storytellers United

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Emmit Fenn - Who Dat

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

O

perhaps i have watched
one too many
japanese horror movies

- dsnake1, ^

digital sketch by dsnake1 with Sketchpad 5.1



O


in a darkened room
look into a mirror
at midnight,
              be afraid
              what is inside
              the glass
in the
reflection
              there is
              besides..

and the scream,
which is
not your own...


05/11/2013
**********


This is a repost, but why not get frightened again?

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Poets of the Fall - Carnival of Rust

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

you are stronger than you think

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

photo by Jills at pixabay



you are stronger than you think


your life is a plant of dry yellow leaves
an apartment chock-ful of hoarded junk
of boxed lunches canned drinks
it will slam you, kick you
arm-locks you to sobbing
utter total surrender
it don't take much
a little switch
a little straw
of dry powder
it drags you
like a beast
into a cave
but know it
you can beat it
take that smile
off death's face.
you are stronger than you think
ask what your gods can offer
grow wings
grow claws
light a fire
draw a line
and
watch
the beast slouches back to its cave.


26/04/2021
**********

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A Perfect Circle - Eat The Elephant

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

R.O.D.

That was a really long time ago, but it seems like it was only yesterday...

photo by yapo-zhou at Unsplash



R.O.D.


just a tired wave to the guard at the gate,
no words, not one needed
those days of running in the sun, humping hills,
cold rain in dark jungles
half forgotten, gruff sergeants, muddy tracks,
sweat, curses and comrades'
faces and names i thought i really remembered,
goodbye godforsaken camp!

their bitching still clear, in hokkien, mangled
english, honest, unapologetic,
fuck the army, as the sergeant screamed of big
elephants in rifle barrels,
and now on this bus ride home to a change of clothes
from fatigues to polyester
the sounds and smells of the streets vaguely familiar
like home to an old place.


06/06/2021
**********


The title refers to the last day of conscription service, when you return to civilian life. On that day, some laugh, some cry, some spit, some are indifferent. I am not sure what's the acronym these days.

Posting this on the eve of our National Day.

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Roger Waters - The Gunner's Dream

Shared at Writers' Pantry #82 at Poets and Storytellers United.

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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

Lavender Street, early 60's

The name is a misnomer.

pencil sketch by dsnake1



Lavender Street
early 60's


i have no idea where the bus
ends its jouney this side of town
but i know the other end because
it leads me to my school
but every morning in the pre dawn
my father would accompany me
cross the road and wait at the bus stop
for the number 11 bus to arrive.

this is not a reputable piece of town
known for its knife fights and such
so my dad tags along for he is stocky
and muscular so no one would want
to mess with me or the tank,
but he lets me carry my heavy school bag.
i suppose he keeps his hands free,
you know, just in case.

we wait in the semi darkness of the bus shelter
sometimes he lights a cigarette
maybe it is the long wait,
or the wind was right that morning
blowing the smell of decaying logs
from the sawmills and clogged rivers
just behind the rust-eaten metal bus stop.

i would not be thinking of school

i would be thinking about the temple just down the road
a temple with an idol of a wooden horse, life size,
black with soot from the daily incense
its body and neck plastered thick with gold paper
i wonder what the devotees were praying for.

and the bus would come, clunking, wheezing.
my dad would bundle me up the thing
leave without a word or a wave
as he prepares for his work day
and the first sun rays of the day
bursting over the tanks of the gasworks
lights the town with fingers of gold.


written 06/01/2015
revised 27/05/2019
***************

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U2 - Where The Streets Have No Name

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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

old stamps of america

I used to collect stamps. Maybe the first presents I received when I was a kid was a stamp album and some stamps. Later on, I narrowed my focus and collected only American stamps. The good old U.S.A. Don't ask me why. Perhaps the stamps are of a uniform size, making it easy to display in an album. I no longer collect stamps now, but the old albums are still with me.

photo by dsnake1


old stamps of america


i used to chase them down
like a bounty hunter
in decrepit old malls
dimly lit shops

from the elderly man
spreading out his wares
on a plastic sheet at Thieves' Market.

tracked them down
like a bloodhound
then locked them up
in made-in-china albums.

i have them all, the flags,
the battles, the presidents,
air mails, space missions, native arts.

amerika! amerika!
i know more about you
than my own country.
it is a strange hobby.

i could go chase skirts
write poetry, get into trouble
but gone crazy over stamp collecting!


written : early 1990's
revised : dec 2013
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Simon & Garfunkel - America

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

50

is it that long already?

photo by Karen Zhao at Unsplash


50


you could be with me today
but i am all by myself
in the train
watching little squares of glass
coloured paint
of apartment blocks
tessellated
rushing by
and the evening sky
threatening to weep.

we could be in a restaurant today
maybe not a fancy one
but nevertheless one
we wanted to try
because i can afford it now
and a couple of
working class beers of course.

but now i am all by
myself
in the train
with anonymous faces
with the sad masses
going home
their rush hour hands
pushing at my shoulders.

and coming out of the tunnels
i wanted to call your name
but the words
the words
they never come
because

the evening sky
had started to turn grey
and
about to weep.


written 21/09/2010
revised 21/09/2018
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Pink Floyd - Time

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

in the time of stillness

A tiny virus did all these. It was a strange time of empty streets during the lockdown, mandatory face masks and social distancing when outside...

photo by dsnake1



in the time of stillness


the city is standing still
it is learning a new language

the grass and weeds are allowed to grow
buttons, sages and mimosa poke heads out of concrete

butterflies show off their orange wings again
the stacked-up chairs at the cafe are lonely

the tower cranes have stop turning
the jackhammers retire to their sheds

you do not have a guy breathing down your neck
while you are placing a lottery bet

we have been the magpies
gleefully bathing in a puddle on a hot day
we have been the pigeons,
always hungry, pecking for food on asphalt

the language is new and strange
we gripe but are quietly learning.


02/05/2020
**********

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A Perfect Circle - Imagine (cover of Lennon's song)

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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
**********

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

dark side of the moon #5

life's a drag, sometimes..

photo of Kyoto at night by dsnake1


dark side of the moon #5


there was always talk of downsizing
and now it wasn't just talk

he wondered what his wife was cooking
for dinner, it was not much lately

working on her figure, yoga she said,
was at her friend's playing mahjong

terry the dog drowned in the toilet bowl
just a couple of days back

it was getting thinner, anyway

he wandered mindlessly into the supermarket
the shelves were too much for him

maybe i can get something simple for dinner
just pop it in the microwave?

or not

he shouldn't had turned left into the casino.

\
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
ten stories is too high, he thought.
to jump


15/02/2020
**********

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“The sea is endless when you are in a rowboat.”

― Adolfo Bioy Casares, The Invention of Morel

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020

dark side of the moon, part #3

what an early morning walk through the neighbourhood can do to you...

photo by dsnake1



dark side of the moon, part #3


adjust your eyes to the night awhile. the long line of street lights, they are zombies coming out to play.

do not touch that empty plastic bag rolling, flailing across the zebra crossing. do you feel any wind?

no flowering trees around, but a scent of frangipani? and that lady just ahead, is she waiting for a taxi?



2018, or thereabouts
*****************

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"ashes
swirling
swirling
at your
bare feet"

-dsnake1, glimpse

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020