small miracles

From GloPoWriMo 2025. Yeah, yeah, no eyeballs.

Hope everyone is having a good day.

AI generated image by dsnake1 at Fotor



small miracles



Today I wish you small miracles
as you go about your waking day.

A blue sky, pure white clouds and green leaves sunlit.
A sparrow hopping in the shadow at the Buddha's feet.
The community cat meows back when you greet it.
The bus is not late, in the train someone offers you a seat.

Do not question if there are small miracles.
Expect them, waking up in the morning is one.



09/04/2025
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“The whole world is a series of miracles, but we're so used to them we call them ordinary things.”

― Hans Christian Andersen

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025

Hope

"Although the nation is done for,
I find new flowers."

*
from “Election Year” by Donald Revell

I was inspired by the lines from the above poem. This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in hopeful ways. Also, Rommy at Poets and Storytellers United would like us to "to think about hope and what word brings up for you."

image by Prawny at pixabay



Hope


( 1 )


How we walk this road is just all in our minds
Over a path of flowers or roads of rubble, wires entwined
Probably we will meet a helping friend along the way
Extending a warm hand when there is none, we pray.



09/07/2022
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( 2 )



How wild the flowers and weeds grow on the roads
On rubble and fences and embracing the noon sun.

Politicians plotting of wrecking the world, pause
Examine this old flower, Earth, adrift in space.



15/07/2022
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Both are acrostic poems. I sort of prefer the first one, as it really seems to express hope, while the second is too subtle. The first rhymes too. I wish I have more time to work on them, but hey, deadline! 😄

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U2 - Van Diemen's Land

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

Dear 2021

It was the train pulling out of the station, and no one was waving...

- dsnake1, a few days to the new year

digital montage by dsnake1



Dear 2021


Dear 2021

I know, it is the beginning of the year, but you sure know how to grab our attention. The world, and especially America, looks on with disbelief, as its own people storms the Capitol, trying to overturn an election result.

Then, as another joke, a large container ship runs aground and obstructs the Suez canal, disrupting global trade. We can never forget the image of a little digger trying to free the behemoth from the banks.

The Summer Olympics finally gets going, one year later, and as a cyclist, I watch all the cycling events and was touched by the enthusiastic Japanese people along the route cheering the competitors on. Also, American gymnast Simone Biles taught us it's alright if we don't feel right.

The USA exits Afghanistan after 20 years of war, and people are pointing the fingers to the memory of Vietnam. For a kid who lost a dad early in the war, the kid is probably all grown up now, and wondering if the servicemen, and the trillions of dollars, can be put to better use.

You let billionaires go to space for joyrides and and turn a blind eye to disinformation, as it continues to fool people on social media, where governments are also waging a relentless propaganda war.

It seems like nothing happened, COVID-19 continues to hog the news, and yet we continue to be touched, angered, perplexed and entertained by the year's events.

You will not walk out with a hobble. You will walk, maybe hunched, but walk. And let us all hold our hands, forget our differences of opinions, and wish for a normal return to life from the pandemic. And a true yearning for a return to peace.


Sincerely

Lee San


18/12/2021
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Magaly at Friday Writings told us to write a “Dear 2021” open letter, in verse or in prose. So this is it. It is a very hurried write. Wish I have some time to polish it. :)

291 words

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U2 - Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

and all i see are wet petals on asphalt

"And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
         Not shaking the grass"

-- Ezra Pound

Osaka, Japan, at night
photo by dsnake1



and all i see are wet petals on asphalt


the train doors close
like a breath exhaling

and i slip out of the station
to an empty street

a cold wind blowing
and a long way from home



01/01/2020
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* “Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…”
"It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake. *

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince


Shared on Writers' Pantry #1 at Poets and Storytellers United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020

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

a few days to the new year

It was the train pulling out of the station, and no one was waving...

photo by geralt at pixabay



a few days to the new year


resolutions are meaningless
if it's all talk
the rustle of plastic
as we tear away
a packaging
the popping of bubble wrap
on idle days

why cynicism then
biting like acid
on flesh?

this bile bitter
as the beast
in the desert?

then a step
a step a day
the sun rises
the sun will set

will the year then be
the green leaf on the bough
catching the sunlight
or the brown dying one
dropping to the asphalt
to be swept and buried
in a dark drain?


26/12/2011
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an old, unpublished, angry poem brooding in my journals. Ditch the anger, have a safe and happy 2019, friends!

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Facing West - Auld Lang Syne

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

sparrow

Another one from the NaPoWriMo archives. I think this one is worth sharing again.

photo by bluekdesign at morguefile.com



sparrow


the schoolgirl
hopped onto the bus
like a sparrow,
chirpy, full of energy
her ponytail swinging.
she was maybe
all of six years old
she took the seat
in front of me
smiling
looking at the
blue morning sky
and then she said

it's a beautiful morning

and me
cynical, angry
two days worth of stubble
needed a six year old kid
to make me see
the sunlight.



written : 26/04/2009
revised : 26/03/2016

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"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.”

― Leonard Cohen, Selected Poems, 1956-1968

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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

the four sisters

This is a painting by the artist Rick Mobbs. Over a decade back, Rick offered on his blog a weekly image prompt for us wannabe writers to ponder over it. He called the project The Storybook Collaborative. Those images are paintings that he had done, and out of it were some very good poems.

The below poem has been sitting in my thumb drive for some time. Perhaps I took too long to ponder?

painting by Rick Mobbs



the four sisters



"Can we not raise our hands in anger?
beat our swords into ploughshares instead?"

and Peace
raises her hands and releases the white petrel
where it circles the storm clouds

says Hope
and the golden flame in her hand
flickers but still burns strongly in the wind

says Love
and the stalk of red rose
bends with the wind but does not break

says Faith
and her hands cup the the sunrise
weighing the golden orb of the growing sun

and they look at the grey skies turning black
the sea sneering and scattering the dunes

and they are not afraid.




written 10/09/2010
revised 08/06/2018
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And if you think the dark clouds will clear : Pink Floyd, A Great Day for Freedom

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

thin red line

I wrote this for SingPoWriMo 2016 (the local variant of NaPoWriMo), and was posted at my other blog. The poem is inspired by a news report on depression, on an actual case where a widow wanted to jump from her block of flats, and her mother-in-law talked her out of it.

image by dsnake1, done with Sketchpad 4.0




thin red line



Sanity and madness, life and death, is just divided by a razor cut. Or a thin red line, and that is why, tied between her wrist and that of her young child, is a thin red thread. Standing at the rooftop of her apartment block, with the rapidly sinking sun, the dark clouds do look so much closer. As the wind slips around her hair, her legs, she takes a step forward towards the edge, her hand tightly holding her child's, the blackbirds watching, squabbling. The ground below is a dark abyss and the lights of the city are just mocking eyes. And then a soft voice, so close, so helpless.

mommy, i am cold.

And all the fears and hatred and pity fly off into the night, as she holds her child, feeling her warmth and she cries it all out and the child puts her hands on the mother's cheeks, and she cries some more, and more.

She tears off the red thread binding them, then, like a lotus growing out of mud, holding her child's hand, she walks back down the stairs, back to their home, as the stars start to twinkle in the sky above.


candlelight -
her face
brightens



05/04/2016
**********

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“I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed but all I could do was to get drunk again.” 

― Charles Bukowski

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

2016

It has been quite a bleary year, but still kind.

image by dsnake1, done with Sketchpad 4.0




2016



as footprints in the sand
that will be erased by the tides
so do the past years go

and do we appreciate we lived
a little longer
by a leap second?

we do make very strange decisions as a collective
so the guns are no more silent as last year's
the princess of the galaxy is gone
we do fear the ceiling falling
the want ads are ambiguous
there is no more beer
in the fridge

but let us not be anchored down
by fear and apathy
fear of the other
fear of the unknown
we will live
for the tomorrow
for the sunlight
for the ones we cared.
deep roots do not fear frost


31/12/2016
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Happy New Year, dear readers! May the new year be healthy and kind and cheerful. 😁

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

harmony

Ah, I have grown older...

photo by pedrojperez
image from morguefile.com




harmony



be at peace with everything around you
there is a purpose for every existence

rejoice in the little things

a flock of blackbirds in haphazard flight
a bolt of lightning in the summer afternoon
autumn leaves catching the evening's light
a grove of bamboo bending with the wind

the wise words of a child in your arms
the arpeggios of a guitar on a cold night
the quiet calmness in yourself as you kneel
before the buddha, seeking a path from harm

rejoice in these little things

even the very air you breathe
the soil that crumples at your feet
the rain that splatter on your face
the racing of your heartbeat

rejoice in these little things
for these are the reasons for our being.






written 22/04/2011
revised 20/12/2015
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“If you want to make beautiful music, you must play the black and the white notes together.”

― Richard M. Nixon

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

in the year of the goat

The Lunar New Year is already four days old, and I am really enjoying myself these few days, doing all the things I liked, like goofing off, eating and drinking, and abusing the video game machine. And writing a blog post again.

Let's hope it will be a good year too. Tomorrow, it will be back to the daily grind.

photo by dsnake1



in the year of the goat


let us then
be like the lotus
blooming out of mud
resilient & hopeful
or the sparrows that play
under the shadow of the bodhisattva
knowing that they will be protected
or the first light beams of the dawn
true and sharp and fearless
let us sing tunes
even without words
let us be then
all of these.



19/02/2015
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岁岁平安

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

will the new year

Okay, the following poem is not exactly new, I wrote and published it on this blog a few years back as a New Year's wish. But I think it is still relevant today as it was then.

Here's wishing all my readers a very Happy New Year!




photo by AppleGoh
image by dsnake1




will the new year




will

the new day
be

like
    water
       from
the rainfall
       that
    runs
with the
dead leaves
into
the culverts,
to be
lost,
knowing
they
cannot fight
the
pull of
gravity,

or

like the
sunrays
of the
    new
       morning,
scattering
       off
    tree leaves,
the eaves
of buildings,
    angular
       and sharp,
    filling
every corner
every crevice,
    curious,
       piercing

and free

?


31/12/07
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We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope. 

-- Martin Luther King, Jr.



This poem is for Poetry Pantry #130 at Poets United.

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©cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2012