owl

Something from my NaPoWriMo archives. Yes, yes, no eyeballs.

photo by TBIT at pixabay



owl



like clockwork
the gastric pains
wake me up
again
and i don't even
look at the time
anymore
but i guess 2:59 a.m.
is quite close.

i look
for that little packet
of white pills,
make my way to
the kitchen
for some self medication.
then i stand at the window
talking to the night
convinced that
in my past life
i was an owl
or a shark.


27/04/2009
**********

---

Jethro Tull - Weathercock

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

4 a.m. sunday morning

Written for SingPoWriMo 2016, no eyeballs as you have guessed. The eyeballs are on the pavements somewhere...

photo by harutmovsisyan at pixabay



4 a.m. sunday morning



sometimes nights are like that
awash with shadows
the rain calling your name

the night grumbles and growls
nine floors below
blue red strobe lights, doors slam

the rain is falling, scattering
like silver needles
in the glow of streetlights

voices, muffled by the wind
a woman's plead
shrill, and angry words

take the brawl somewhere nabeh!

or maybe the rain is already
washing the blood
off the cold asphalt.


20/04/2016
**********


I was up at 5 a.m. this morning for a bike ride, and no, the morning wasn't like that. :)

---

And if the sky weeps in muffled sobs: Traffic, Walking in the Wind

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

rendezvous

This installation : Illumaphonium by Michael Davis of the United Kingdom.

photo by YunPing




rendezvous


She said, "you should
come up here more often,

it is quiet and chilly
and i get a bit lonely",

but i am not too sure
because the boy Icarus

dropped into the sea
the other day while

we were trying to
fly to Mars.


09/05/2018
**********

My daughter was at the recently concluded festival I Light Marina Bay, and took pictures of the light installations there. She asked me if i would like to add some words to the photos. These 5 were the results. Not much, I know from more than 20 installations.

Simultaneous publication at my other blog, i write too. If you want to see the other installations and read the accompanying haiku, click HERE.




© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2018

a scream in the night

Urgh! Need to haul ass back to work. Just kidding!

photo by ElisaRiva at pixabay


a scream in the night



the cellphone is buzzing
and now lies on the bed
backlit face taunting

i jump at the ring
of phones, cell or otherwise
in the night

it is a habit

it is 2 a.m. it is the time
for ghosts
and howling dogs

it was a very drunk big-fingered
dork looking for
another night owl.

i should have unconditionally given
him some opinion
but i am glad

it wasn't a call to get back
to the office
to some dark street.



05/09/2013
**********

---

And if you can't sleep after that : Supertramp - Crime of the Century.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

the night sticks like wet petals

This is my first attempt on a "golden shovel" poem. I find it interesting, even challenging.

The poem I chose was In a Station of the Metro by Ezra Pound :

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

photo by dsnake1




the night sticks like wet petals


if you imagine us scurrying down to the
tunnels, each of us is an apparition
skins lined after a helpless day of
slaving in hills of data then these
shadows these lines on your faces
those sunken eyes reflected in
steel the glass panels of the

stations and the bloodshot eyes of the crowd;

the night sticks like wet petals
unwilling to fall, clinging on
the scent of fading cologne, on a
breath thick with reasons, slick and wet,
all waiting, the masses, huddled and black
as the train hurtling in, a thick dark bough.


19/05/2016
**********


heck, it even has a nice form. but am not too satisfied with this attempt..

---

"I'm sorry my dears but we only sat down
And laughed and laughed in sorrow"

-- Uriah Heep, Circus


Shared on Poetry Pantry #303 at Poets United.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

-O-

Have you every worked late, and alone, in a large office? Late like, 3 a.m.?

photo by dsnake1



-O-




the fear
slices
razor on skin

the mouth dry
about to
-O-pen

beware the whine
in the
air ducts

it is
whispering
ancient stories

the glare
of monitor screens
a vicious leer

you keep thinking
of pale
pallid faces

is that a strand
of hair brushing
your face?

if you just
turn your head
and you would not

because

the dark shadows
in your heart

becomes

a blur a shape in the corner

the room

the eye
the eyes
their EYEs!

piercing

more so

in the coldness.



01/06/2014
**********

---

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted.”

-- Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems


Shared on Poetry Pantry #299 at Poets United.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

perimeter

when you are tired and on edge, and it is the middle of the night...

photo by hotblack
image from morguefile.com



perimeter






there was no warning
no sound,
a chill
slithered down
the spine

though
the night was warm
shadows flirted
with the
gibbous moon

outside
the perimeter
fence was

definitely

something.

the metallic click
of the bolt
locking home
was reassuring
as i armed the rifle.

HALT! WHO GOES THERE?

the eyes trying to
decipher
the shadows

HALT WHO GOES THERE!!!?

the fingers snapped
off the safety catch
of the gun

MUTHERFUCKER COME OUT!!

the breathing went laboured
the fingers damp
with sweat

and then
and then

with the moon
laughing
a soft breeze
breathing scorn

i knew

the ghosts were not
out there
the demons
were right here

inside the brain

about to breach
the perimeter.


28.01.2008
**********

---

“It's sad when you learn you're not much of a hero.”

― Tim O'Brien, If I Die in a Combat Zone: Box Me Up and Ship Me Home



I am not sure if it is okay to post a military themed work so soon after the tragic events in Paris on Friday. But damn it! The attacks prove one thing. It is getting more difficult to protect urban centres of major cities from terrorist attacks. The enemy do not play by conventional rules. They chose any target they like, they do not directly engage the military but attack so called soft targets, like clubs, restaurants, entertainment venues to extract maximum casualties. Security will increasingly be getting more expensive. We will lose a bit more of our privacy. We will get a bit more suspicious and paranoid and vocal. That is the harsh reality we will be forced into. But we will live life as normally as we could.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

this is a night of werewolves

When it is a late cold night and you can't sleep, and you decide to update your blog, but it gets kind of boring and you click on social media instead...

photo by chrystel-lux
image from morguefile.com



this is a night of werewolves


outside, the night is oily with shadows
the rain smacking their cold hands
on my window panes.
faintly a woman's scream
from the opposite apartment block.
it could not be another murder,
i wonder.
just this morning yeah
there was one splashed
all over the papers.
people are getting stressed
grabbing kitchen knives
and not just for cooking.
then again this is most likely
some mother shouting at the kid.
always happening.

in my room, dark, shadows silent on walls,
only the light from the monitor screen.
i should have known better.
should not have clicked on youtube.
not on a night like this.
top 10 world's unsolved mysteries.
20 mysterious photos that should not exist.
why Vlad was called the impaler.
should have known better.


20/11/2014
**********

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This is a night of evenly spaced-
out escalators. This is a night of werewolves.

*

from “This is a Night of Evenly Spaced-Out Escalators” by Zachary Schomburg



I was inspired by the lines from the above poem (and some idle web surfing on a late night). This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in dark ways.


Shared on Poetry Pantry #263 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

NightSky*Stars

I have to re-post another old poem again. The muse is missing, the avalanche of work at the office doesn't seem to abate. Sigh.

This poem is part of a set I sent to a nationwide poetry competition a few years ago, although it was written very much earlier. There's some naivety in structure and words, but this piece has remained one of my personal favourites.




Vincent van Gogh's The Starry Night.
image from internet


NightSky&Stars


What myriad secrets you hold up there
we can only boldly guess
Your mysteries, time locked
& unwilling yet to share

What light i saw
could have been born a billion years before

     you are ancient legends, retold over glowing fires
     domains of the gods, we are told.
     In time, as we grow wiser,
     we dare, we probe your dark canvas

Your depth, i could not fathom
the immense distance you span.
If i could live a million reincarnations,
i guess i could not traverse you from end to end.

Tonight, on such a cold night,
in a miniscule niche on a blue planet,
as i lift my eyes to the vastness above,
the stars, they speak to me in lights of life.

On this planet, spinning, are we.
Solar Planetary System, #3

     ashes to earth to life to earth to ashes
     trilobites in shale, archaeopteryx in amber
     Beatles on wax, memories in silicon brains
     man chasing gold chasing dreams chasing fame

now what light i saw
could have been me a billion years before.

*** DEC 1987 ***