Sketch

A break from versing, here's a sketch

Mother Bird

She's a mother bird
guarding her best
but there's no egg
and no baby bird in her nest.
She's her only brood
and she'll snap at you
if you poke her breast,
because you're not one of her's.
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30 September 2005
(revised 10 August 2006)

Militant Limb

Why do you let this me live
with this militant limb battling
the life out of me?
You won't let me cut it off
and you won't let it heal.
I can only grimace at her hideous sight.
Sometimes she will detach herself
but always she will return
to taunt me again like an iron-on
stuck to my skin.
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29 September 2005
(revised 10 August 2006)

Transposed

As my finger runs along the page
sternly to discipline the words,
the hum of the air-con hovers over my head
and brings me back to the hospital
by my mother's bed.
Whirls of air from the ceiling fan
beat against the vacuum of my bubble.
She is here with me
but I am alone.
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27 September 2005
(revised 18 July 2006)

If Life Is A Book

If life is a book,
then we can return to previous days
to live them again
by flipping back the pages
and revising the verses.
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26 September 2005
(revised 12 July 2006)

Is This Life?

Is this life as what it should be?
When morning and night we hear our sighs?
And we see the heaving of our own bosoms
As we breathe in the air, which is not as free
As it's suppose to be.
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25 September 2005
(revised 9 July 2006)