a point in your life

This was written for a NaPoWriMo day.It has been posted on this blog before.

No, it has gathered many comments before. I am reposting it because I think it is a good look at ageing.

photo by dsnake1



a point in your life


so you come to a point in your life,
you feel cold, you feel old, booze
no longer excites, instead it plays punk
with your sphincters, the doctor sees you
and no longer asks what is bugging you
but tells you to keep off the oily stuff.

you watch weeds grow and wonder who
or which is more unwanted, the streets
growl at you and fumes and dust gets into
your eyes and coffee, children look at you
in fright and not merely because of your stubble,
and you don't rage anymore.

and so the best exercise you had in days
is to turn your head to watch that woman
in the short shorts walks by in the sidewalk
her full hips moving with a beat that
nearly stops your heart.

you watch the sun sets over the highrises
at the quay, someone mentions a drunk had
drowned in the river a couple of days back,
just a few paces where you sat, the day gets more
unsettling as a crow caws and tugs at a roadkill and
you fear your number may be up.



Written 06/04/2013
Revised 27/09/2024
****************


Each stanza is a one sentence poem, and I am wondering if each stanza can exist as a stand-alone mini poem by itself. 😁

image by dsnake1
generated by a game console with Soul Calibur V

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With age comes some wisdom. And a lot more pills. - dsnake1

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2025

sorta like a rope

Ennui. Dead end. Nothing to look forward to...

photo by dsnake1



sorta like a rope


today the sun comes out
but it's not burning
you try to ignore the sun
and the clock alarm too

you see this dead bird
rotting by the wayside trees
one good life gone, once skies,
now a home for maggots & flies.

you sit at the coffee shop
trying to sip your tea
the other old guys there
are scratching on betting slips

who knows, who knows your life
might change the next day
people begging you for handouts
or you just tear that slip away

you see this old geezer
trying to feed a stray cat
but the stray claws him
maybe it remembers something

the dark roads intersect at night
street lights shine no brighter
than the stars in the sky
somewhere in the distance drones

a siren



15/03/2023
**********


"sorta like a rope looking for a tree to finish the job." - ZQ
The title comes from a comment from ZQ, one of the readers of this blog.

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Madonna - Frozen

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

dark side of the moon #12

Don't read this before lunch...

photo by Bruce Tang at Unsplash



dark side of the moon #12


“I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.”
-Psycho, by Robert Bloch


Oh honey, I am home. But you are not eating well these past two days. Hardly ate anything. Or said anything. Just sat there on the sofa watching TV. Old people like us don't eat much, I know, but still one must eat. I bought some fish soup today. The one from your favourite stall. Yes, I met our neighbour Mrs. Lim from the next unit just now, she complained to me of a smell from our house. Said she will call the police if I don't fix it. Fix what? Just our unwashed dishes. Let me keep this can of insect spray, there's a lot of flies and mites lately, and then I will get your food. Here, let me get a clean bowl.


17/10/2022
**********

Magaly at Poets and Storytellers United invites us to write poetry or prose inspired by some scary quotes. I chose one from Psycho.

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"The Department of Statistics estimates that 83,000 elderly persons will be living alone by 2030, compared with the 47,000 seniors aged 65 and above in 2016."

- The Pride, Am I my neighbour’s keeper? The tragedy of those who die alone

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

a good day but still cranky

“I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth.”

― Ovid, Metamorphoses

photo by dsnake1


a good day but still cranky


trust that the sun will rise
that time is on my mind
how do you define a second then
when it is gone faster than my heartbeat?

trust that my head will clear
rages must wait another day
i am trying to type poems on the keyboard
and the bowl of noodles awaits.


27/11/2021
**********

photo by dsnake1


I had a good birthday recently. The kid brought me out for food, even bought me a toy. I reminded myself to be kind that day, be patient, do not pick fights with people. I even managed to write some poetry. This poem.

Shared at Friday Writings #6

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Heavy Metal Kids - It's The Same

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

on his retirement

They told me to give a speech during my retirement party. I said, "you guys didn't read my e-mail meh?"

photo by hotblack at morguefile



on his retirement



"Speech! Speech!", we ask.
He is holding his mug like a trophy.
He nods his head. He is silent.
For all his forty years
In the office
He could not think of anything
About his work to say.

An awkward cough! Applause
Ripple to nothingness.
The office walls close in.
We quickly spread out
The curry puffs,
Fried chicken, kueh and drinks.
"Eat! Eat!" we say.



12/07/2019
**********

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Emerson Lake and Palmer - Lucky Man

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019

perhaps it is not just the miles travelled

perhaps it is not just the miles travelled

photo by dsnake1



perhaps it is not just the miles travelled


Have we travelled so far already? I do not count the miles because I love you. But sometimes I cannot fathom your heart, it is a deep well with water as dark as black glass. An unfinished poem. Or it is just like the streets we walked. Cold, alien and heartbroken. Streets awashed with dangers on a warm night, the light of the moon useless.

Some days my heart just crumbles and turns to ashes. Perhaps it is not just the miles travelled, but how.



01/01/2019
**********

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Skylar Grey - Stand By Me

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019

that you left me

❤

photo by 5933179 at pixabay



that you left me



i was afraid
time will erase
your memories

your smiles

and i am
getting old

so today
i will just
write

some words

i cannot
send you
a card
like before

or take your
hands in mine

and point to
the stars
in the sky

take this as
a poem

for you

and if you
have read it
you will smile

and would
have cried.



28.01.2008
**********

Still, one of my personal favourites...

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Black Sabbath - She's Gone

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

walking away

Your last day at work, does it feel like you are walking out of a sentence?

photo by StockSnap at pixabay




walking away



leaves
leaves all behind
no one looks up
not even a goodbye
what is there to remember?
a song's notes
that fade off in half flight
       a wind in November
       a walk to the gate
       a wave to the guards
to the chainlink fence
and the air seems so cold
even though
the rain trees
swelter in the noon heat
their leaves
leaves
falling
falling
as the wind whispers
it is a good day.


27/06/2018
**********

It is a strange feeling, walking out on my last day of work, out of a place that is almost like a second home. I feel neither sad nor happy, just looking forward to my birthday a day later.  🙂

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Stereopony - Stand By Me

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

what do you know

Sometimes the giants are amongst the most ordinary...

photo by Free-Photos at pixabay



what do you know


she kept silent,
the old lady, bent with the years,
bags of groceries in one hand,
an agitated grandson on the other.

most probably she had seen it all,
her flight from China to escape poverty,
to another hard life in a foreign land,
to the darker ages, a World War,
surviving on tapioca roots,
evaded Sook Ching, and the massacres,
staying plain,
hoping not to get raped,
staying sane,
squalid huts to call home,
soon the terrors of Konfrontasi,
the uncertanties of Merger,
and Independence,
the horrors of racial riots,
then blissful marriage,
giving birth to sons, daughters,
raising them, nurturing them
saving the coins to build
a business
a home
a country

and
the little boy, indignant,
cellphone-ipad-game console generation,
muttered
"what do you know, grandma?
what do you really know?"



written 19/04/2009
revised 19/07/2018
*****************


This was intended for Wednesday's Midweek Motif prompt for "Greatness" at Poets United. ☹️

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“A great man is always willing to be little.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

bread and margarine

somewhere in the horizon, the ocean and the sky meet and annihilate each other...

photo by khfalk at pixabay




bread and margarine


outside, the sun is a melting nuclear blast
it hurts the brain just thinking about it
too tired to make a lunch, just paste
two slices of bread with margarine
and call it that, there is zero
i really want to do, except
thinking of all the regrets
all filling up in a glass jar
so that one day i can toss
it all out and release them
back to the alleys and bell bottoms
and torn jeans where they came from

and

when you are old
looking through
the dusty stuff
in the shelves
thinking of all
the loves that were

and are

one can never stop
clutching at the
clinging nostalgia
like cold cobwebs
pulling at your face.


20/02/2018
**********

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"you watch weeds grow and wonder who or which is more unwanted."

-- dsnake1, a point in your life



and a song to tide us over : Traffic - Love

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

my old sergeant

I am too tired to write anything new this week. So, bear with another old post.

This is about a chance meeting between old comrades.

photo by click, image from morguefile.com






my old sergeant


my old sergeant
calls to me
from a bus stop.
he still remembers me
maybe i am the nerdy one
or
i don't give him trouble.

we talk
and laugh.

we are old men now
how time has aged a soldier,
he walks with a cane today.

was it not long ago
i saw him dismount
from an armoured carrier
carbine slung across
his chest
walking through a haze
of red dust
churned up
by battle vehicles?

we talk
about the old days.
we laugh
cough a bit

and then
go about our
separate ways.


19/10/07
********

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“On the way down the hill we walked three abreast in the cobblestone street, drunk and laughing and talking like men who knew they would separate at dawn and travel to the far corners of the earth.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary


Shared on Poetry Pantry #200 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

a point in your life

This was written for yesterday's NaPoWriMo, at my other blog, i write too.

I wrote this during a lunch break in the office, did some minor reworkings at home, in time for NaPoWriMo. And I wasn't sure why my mood was so dark that day.





photo by YunPing, ©



a point in your life



so you come to a point in your life,
you feel cold, you feel old, booze
no longer excites, instead it plays punk
with your sphincters, the doctor sees you
and no longer asks what is bugging you
but tells you to keep off the oily stuff.

you watch weeds grow and wonder who
or which is more unwanted, the streets
growl at you and fumes and dust gets into
your eyes and coffee, children look at you
in fright and not merely because of your stubble,
and you don't rage anymore.

and so the best exercise you had in days
is to turn your head to watch that woman
in the short shorts walks by in the sidewalk
her full hips moving with a beat that stops
your heart.

you watch the sun sets over the highrises
at the quay, someone mentions a drunk had
walked into the river and drowned a couple of days back,
just a few paces where you sat, the day gets more
unsettling as a crow caws and tugs at a roadkill and
you fear your number may be up.



06/04/2013
**********

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I have always paid income tax. I object only when it reaches a stage when I am threatened with having nothing left for my old age - which is due to start next Tuesday or Wednesday.

-- Noel Coward


Shared on Poetry Pantry #145 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2013