Pluto

I know much have been said
on your behalf but you hate to go down
without a word of defence
from your own little Pluto-mouth.
So have your say, keep it short
and post your grudges here.

By Pluto

I have always been one of the gang,
a petite number nine,
a misfit of eccentric risk taking
but have always toe the line.
But my size bother some
or that I hang out with Kuiper Belt.
So, I am now a planet redefined,
a dwarf in discrimination.
If I can, I will clear the neighbourhood,
if you will just ask Neptune to let me go
and Earth to clear hers too.
Or else ask the IAU’s muse to re-resolute.

Mind Games

It's just a marble knocking against another.
It's not the rush of Niagara Falls.
Still, the room turns purple
not of salvation but purple like a bruise.

Veins throb red in rhythm
to the lips of a big mouth
with the loudest roar that drowns
a zebra screaming from a kill.
The maze of dead-ends, like a circle
without an opening,
is like a mind with one pin hole
where every thought goes through.
And the pin hole is the sun
belonging only to its owner.

The ears are deaf and hear not
the tortured sounds of a rabbit
trying to free itself from a trap.
And the eyes do not see
the scraps of skin and bloodied flesh.
For now, the future speaks only
of quarried brain and zombied body.

Room Without You (previously titled Shell)

I walked into a seashell
abandoned on a landscape
of sand with no footprints,
empty deck chairs sun-scorched,
flowers still surviving
and cool pink tiles under my feet.
I put my nose on its ragged contour
for your sense but smelled
only fishes and sea
and humid air, musky
from furniture untouched.

I brushed sand off its edges
and coughed.
Your music box sang the same tune
I’ve heard over and over.

I held the hollow against my ears.
Its warmth on my cheek
was like your lips.
I’ve trapped your laughter
in the grooves of my palm
but all I heard was vacuumed silence pounding
like ghastly breath in my head.

(5 August 2006)

------------------------------------------------
Shell
(1st draft - 18.7.2006)

I walked into a seashell
abandoned on a landscape
of sand with no footprints,
empty deck chairs scorched dried
by the sun, flowers still surviving
and cool pink tiles under my feet.
I put my nose on its ragged contour
for your sense but smelled
only fishes and sea
and humid air, musky
from furniture untouched.

I brushed sand off its edges
and coughed
as dust raided my nose.
Your music box sang the same tune
I’ve heard over and over
like the wind whistling
at my window panes at night.

I held the hollow against my ears.
Its warmth on my cheek
was like your lips.
I’ve trapped your laughter
in the grooves of my palm
but all I heard was vacuumed silence,
pretending to be long distance call
from the waves, pounding
like ghastly breath in my head.

(18 July 2006)

Chinese Funeral - NaPoWriMo # 30

Yin Poh-Poh laid on soft white satin
in her favourite black kwa with silver trimmings.
At her head, black and white drapes hung
in solemn like her family; her only son
and his ten year old son,
and her two daughters seated on a large straw mat
in front of floral gifts of condolence,
who took turns to feed a burning metal basin
with paper money and gold ingots.
At her feet, between two white burning candles,
her seventy year old smile greeted
relatives and guests who came to pay respects
with joss sticks and burned incense.

Cousin Li sat behind a wooden table
on the left side of the parlour,
and handed out candies in small red envelopes
to guests who came to offer contributions
toward funeral expenses as they partake
in the grief with whispered small talk,
tetra-pak drinks and dim-sum.

For two nights, three Taoist monks
were hired to chant prayers
and perform rites of burning money,
clothes, a house, maids, a car and a driver
for Poh-Poh's welfare in her next world.
There would also be music from gong,
flute and trumpet to accompany her
and family as they journey
to her final resting place in this world
and passage to the next.
And where, the master had promised
there would be good feng shui
for both the dead and alive.
---------------------------------------------
NaPoWriMo - 30 April 2006

Chinese Bride - NaPo # 29

Chinese bride, eyes cast down,
face powdered white,
lips the colour of her gown,
a crimson brocade
of gold and silver thread.

She holds a tiny cup
with nervous hands
and offers red dates tea
to the matriarch seated,
in front of a “double happiness”
embroidered on satin drape
of dragon-phoenix design.

Tea accepted; and the bride receives
a red packet of lucky money
and a family heirloom,
a symbol of her status.
And now she must shoulder
the tradition, to bear
a son to carry on the family name.

She bites her lower lip
as her fingers reach out to feel
the jade bracelet
now heavy on her wrist.
-------------------------------
(originally written in 2002)
NaPoWriMo - 29 April 2006

Heritage (Angsana Tree) NaPo # 29

Heritage (retitled)

Angsana tree by the river bank
blooms a yellow-orche crown
that perfumes the air
and rains a golden carpet the next day.

(revised)
-----------------------------------------

Angsana Tree (original title)

Angsana tree by the river bank
blooms a yellow-orche crown
that perfumes the air
and rains a golden carpet the next day.
And reminds us of our heritage.

--------------------------------------
NaPoWriMo - 29 April 2006

First Month Celebration - NaPo #28

Ginger and pork knuckles in black vinegar simmers,
and chicken in rice wine slowly bubbles on the stove.

Great Grandma gently dips unshelled hard-boiled eggs
into red dye, then take them out again to dry
on a plastic tray. Auntie Koh packs two red eggs,
two foil-cup glutinous rice and two ang-ku kuehs
into each red cardboard box for guests
to take home when they leave.
Red will bring happiness and luck to everyone.

Young Grandma scoops omelette fried with ginger strips
in sesame seed oil from the wok and fluffs
white rice into food warmer to be placed
with bowls and chopsticks on the dining tables.

Kei Li’s stomach growls at the delightful aroma
as she rests on a lazy chair with baby sleeping in her arms.
Baby stirs as the door bell rings and he opens his little eyes
to welcome the first guest to his first month celebration.
-------------------------------------------
NaPoWriMo - 28 April 2006

Questions - NaPo #27

Do shadows talk and laugh like us
when we are not looking?
Do they melt into the darkness when there’s no light?
Do birds scorn us for invasion
with our metal planes?
Would they think we’re aliens from giant lands?
Do fishes wish they could walk on earth
the way we could swim with them?
Or are they planning revenge with an emerterrain?
Are thunder roars grudges of injustice
for all the lost seconds?
Do they plan to scheme with lightning to strike in sync?
Is earth’s rotation on its axis
a pact for day and night to have equal rights?
Does earth plan to retire
and treaty ends.

--------------------------------------------------------
NaPoWriMo - 27 April 2006
30 Sept 2006

3 a.m. - NaPo # 26

The night was morning at 3 am.
I roused fresh from dreams,
and the scatter cushion at my feet
that your ghostly hand tapped on me,
fell gently like a wake-up call.
And I didn’t need an ouija board
to sense your presence.
It has been a year and more
since you last spent a worldly
3 am with me. And you did not forget
your favourite cushion.

------------------------------------------------
NaPoWriMo - 26 April 2006

The Surgeon - NaPo # 25

You told me not to be afraid
and your fingers felt my pressure.
You asked me to breathe easy
and you covered my mouth
with a mask of soft membrane.
You sucked hard and teased the inside.
I sucked back, seeking oxygen
but was dizzy from sedation instead.
Your hands moved on my breasts,
searching for heartbeats.
Nipples taut to attention at the touch
And your tongue shot an injection of ecstasy.
And my voice, barely a whisper, offered you my heart.
Please slice the knife in easy so it won’t hurt.
You promised.

---------------------------------------------------
April 25, 2006
Sept 30, 2006

NaPoWriMo - 24 April 2006 - Trees

Trees stand in rows
along the side of the road
like a welcoming parade.
They sway in rhythm
to the music of the wind
and wave their leafy arms at me.
I look up to acknowledge them
and they slowly nod their heads.
They lean towards each other
as if to whisper some secrets
and I can almost see
their faces smiling at me.

NaPoWriMo - 23 April 2006 - Admirer

Uneven stone slabs form a path
to where a family of koi with coat
of red and white sequin lives,
with a ceramic frog that sits
on top of a chest where water falls
from four mini drawers.
And big weathered stones line
the borders of their home.
Hyacinths creep across the water
to shade and sheath.
And hairy leaves of dark green hornwort
exhale oxygen for fish and food.
A kingfisher flashes by to watch
the koi twist and tease.
And as it admires this living art,
it judges the depth of the water.

NaPoWriMo - 22 April 2006 - Story of the Sand

Each grain of sand
has a story to tell
of how it landed where it did.
Maybe a big blue fish
swallowed it, to spit it out again
miles away from where it used to be.
And the turmoil of a tsunami
swung it to higher ground,
or gentle currents of the sea
brought it up to the beach.
And human scavengers
came along and dug up a fuss.
Then poor sand, unable to protest,
found itself in an hourglass.

NAPOWRIMO - 21 April 2006 - Modern Ku

Chrysanthemum falls
into turbulent water,
floats silently.

NAPOWRIMO - 20 April 2006 - Moonlight Pond

Trees stand tall with pride,
and curtains part to reveal
the moon, beaming to silent ovation.
The pond, its mirror
reflects its brilliance.

The Pond-Moonlight by Edward Steichen:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/usa/story/0,,1709964,00.html

NAPOWRIMO - 19 April 2006 - Journey Home

Hotel California on the radio
and a breeze from the air-conditioner,
were cool relief from evening heat
and muffled blast of horns.
The highway was a sea of cars streaming
for home, caught buckled together
like a long metal snake.
And cables hung on steel poles
like disorganized spider webs.
Sunlight stole glimpses,
between silhouettes of buildings,
of cables hung on steel poles
like disorganized spider webs.
The sun, a sparkling orange opal,
awed the world this twilight
before obscurity consumed.
And headlights paved the way
to warm meals and cool wine
with loved ones. But for now,
the sun was still life on canvas.

NAPOWRIMO - 18 April 2006 - Your Love

You said my eyes could talk
and make love to you
with a flick of lashes,
and you have to feel them
with your tongue
to taste the language.
And my lips were candied cotton fluff
that you wanted to gorge on,
until you were blue.
And my body was a sea
in a sun-lit afternoon
for you to bath in the warmth
and drown in pleasure.
You said my love was like a jar
of aromatic oil, its fragrance
lingered in the air
and kissed your skin.

But your love was like a hurricane
that came and swirled my world
into havoc, then destroyed and left
me to pick out your pieces.

NAPOWRIMO - 17 April 2006 - Muse

My muse is like an ant in my brain.
Sometimes it just lazes in a bath
of slimy neurons and plumps up
false sensations of contentment.
At other times, especially when press
with deadlines, it crawls
haphazardly at mighty high speed
and lays its eggs everywhere.
I have to scoop them up from deep grooves
and pluck them from branches.
And then pile them up in a nice heap
to see if they would hatch up
an inspiration or two.
Sometimes, I would get trick eggs
which would stink my poems.
And I would grit my teeth
and leave them to burn
like my garden compost.
And I’d threaten my wandering muse,
I’d do the same to her
if the next batch are just as rotten.
If she’s amused, she'll promise to lay
some golden ones for me to play with.
I will wait.

NAPOWRIMO - 16 April 2006 - We Wait Together

We buried you in tear-soaked soil,
honoured with flowers and burnt incense.
The vigils we keep are ours to break
for we rejoice that the stigmata has ended.
And like the way Jesus live in our body and blood,
you live on in our visions and together
we await the resurrected world.

NAPOWRIMO - 15 April 2006 - Two Views

Voices became magnified bat talk,
smiles became snarls
and teeth became fangs
after ten hours in the office.
So before I became a werewolf
I trudged to the pantry.

I peered out the window
and on this rainy day, I saw
a field with mole hills
stuffed with vegetations,
scattered weeds and tiny flowers.
And where the horizon met the sky
with a light blurry blue,
hills lined up like dunce caps.
Cars sped down rivers of highway
like coloured lightning,
and others parked in yellow boxes
peeped out of swaying trees
to pose as drops of rainbow,
if you squint your eyes at them.

Water boiled and I returned
to make a cup of Milo.
And the smell was as sweet
as the scene I saw ten stories below

NAPOWRIMO - 14 April 2006 - For Mom

The tears in my eyes
are treasures to me.
I wrap each drop
carefully in tissue
and place it in a box.
I take them out
when I want to see
my mother’s smile,
hear her voice
or remember her eyes
when we held conversation
during the scarce time
that both of us could afford.
If I treasure the tears
long enough, would a tear-fairy
come along and trade
each tear for each moment
to live again.

NAPOWRIMO - 13 April 2006 - Confusion

Bouts of dysentery, protozoan infection,
wrack cognition, interpret
and transmit senses to confuse.
Irises mush the shadow in the cranium.

Muscles contract and dilate,
fool the fibers to function
like clowns, no, puppets.
Fingers pull the strings.

Blood and fluid accumulate
and evacuate reasons,
leaving behind perceptions
that palpitate the constitution.
Your contribution is the confusion.

NAPOWRIMO - 12 April 2006 - Rainy Day

I sat behind my desk
in my cubicle
and counted raindrops
on the window pane.
They carried me to you.

But my voice failed
to carry a wave
to hook your ears
with my songs.
And I closed my eyes
to try to see you.

Shadows of you
haunted me as I sat
in this raft
at the end of my ocean.
And you sat
at your ocean
behind your desk
in your cubicle
downstairs.

NAPOWRIMO - 11 April 2006 - Meows and Purrs

You would spank my butt
and call me a killer,
when I bring you gifts.
And I would save you some feathers
on my whiskers instead.
When I rub them on your feet,
you would nudge me off in protest.
And I would sulk
with my oriental eyes,
which never fail to fluff you up
and give me a hug.

I would sometimes irritate you
when I roll on muddy grass
and perfume my coat with dirt.
You would wrinkle your nose
and soak me in a bath.
And I would scream
and try to wriggle free
but you would whack me
on my nose to silent me.

You would push me
off the table when I eye
your juicy steak with wicked sins,
and feed me fish instead.
Well, I guess as long as we know
each other well enough,
it doesn't matter
if my meows are just meows
and purrs just purrs to you,
they just mean I love you.

NAPOWRIMO - 10 April 2006 - Fog

Fog, like bad breath creeps up
on you unaware and blinds
your eyes to tease your senses.
Icy hands shroud your shoulders
and you try to shudder off
the daze that leaves you stranded
like a glass of water in a desert,
not knowing who to yield to.
You turn 360 degrees
And find a tree to hang on to
until someone with a fog light comes along.

NAPOWRIMO - 9 April 2006 - Holy Week

The day you came home
was like Palm Sunday
when Jesus entered Jerusalem.
We celebrated and laid palm leaves
to comfort you.
We thought there was salvation.
We forgot about Peter
who had three times denied you.
And if Jesus had known about Judas,
we did not.
Two days later we had our last supper
before we laid down to a sleepless night.
The next day we celebrated your death.

NAPOWRIMO - 8 April 2006 - Storm

Lighning charges the atmosphere
and suffocates those who share the air.
Smell of earth rises and gathers
humidity to spread across roof tops.
Then sinks to rest on human flesh.
Clouds pout out ready to bleed.
The storm is ripe to be savoured.

NAPOWRIMO - 7 April 2006 - Failure

Floral lace and soft chiffon
on sharp organza
cut a silhoutte well.
Its colour, pure as Eve
before she ate the apple,
failed to blind Adam from deceit.
A gown untouched,
stood like a ghost
in a wardrobe,
left to become fragments
in the mind.

NAPOWRIMO - 6 April 2006 - Late Into The Night

The night strained to be heard
in protest of its silence,
like a man not able to talk
wanting to sing.
The sky was a black velvet blanket
but its warmth was chill instead.
Lamposts hung from the ground,
each with two arms reaching out
to embrace the night.
Trees cast swaying shadows
on cars, gravel and asphalt,
and all within their reach,
like a giant boogieman
stalking from behind
with his many hands
and whispers of muffled swish.
Grass stirred with eerie sounds
of unknown creatures
that only late nights knew of.
It was a long wait before dawn,
before the breath of the sun
warmed the air again.

NAPOWRIMO - 5 April 2006 - Dances And Words

At the office today,
documents piled one foot high in my in-tray.
I dragged an agreement out
and tortured my eyes to read.
They danced around the letters for a while
until page 5, then the words
began to dance instead.
The o in overview leaped three lines up
to hide between b and u in contribute
and e dropped two lines down
to sit on top of m in appointments.

What could I do but take up a ruler
to beat the jig out of them.
And when I pressed a pen
to underline some words,
red ink bled like blood oozing
from a bullet wound onto the page,
in mockery of me.
To mock them back,
I did some aerobics
with paper and pen.

NAPOWRIMO - 4 April 2006 - Life

I bent to smell my pink champayne
lined up in a row along the fence
and ran a finger on the petals.
Today, the sky was as blue as the lavender
that the wind brought to my nose.
I knelt on the dewy carpet of grass
and my knees in tattered jeans
received a damp welcome.
As I worked the shears in my hand
at the top of the shrubs,
I heard flutterings of tiny wings.
My eyes followed the sound,
and saw a butterfly,
the colour of the sun,
flapping on a sea of blue periwrinkles.
Drops of water sprayed
like miniature rain on its body
as it struggled to balance,
drinking air in gasps of desperation.
The thumps of my heart
became flutterings of wings
of a sparrow; a parrot; an eagle,
as the butterfly sank into the foliage.
I dug a frantic hand into the leaves and flowers
in search of life, determined that today
there would be no death.

NAPOWRIMO - 3 April 2006 - Magnets

When we are near, current runs along our veins
and our bodies burn like smouldering iron.
Our eyes shoot hot waves down our throats
and sweats threaten to stick like clingwrap on our skin
as we fantasize we are wrapped together.
Our tongues knot in our mouths
as we wish they are knotted in each other.
But we are like a broken needle on a vinyl record player,
repeating two words of a song, unable to go on.
And we try to wriggle our toes
pretending we are not nailed to the ground.
If we fail, two magnets will hug with a thud,
leaving no gap in between.

NAPOWRIMO - 2 April 2006 - Snowflakes

Snowflakes, set by prisms of their birth,
fall like feathers, forming pillows on the ground.
Birds cool their toes on rivers of snow.
Giggling children trample on diamonds
and aim to throw.

NaPoWriMo - 1 April 2006 - A Recipe

Ingredients:
Words, fresh phrases, good grammar and sonics.

Method:
Chop up some words
and brown them in a saucepan.
Add in fresh phrases
for some spicy effects.
Stir in good grammar to taste.
Pour in sonics to thicken the sauce.
Simmer until thoroughly cooked.
Serve with a smile.