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I just realised that some comments from friends have been deleted while I was fiddling with the content and layout of this blog. I've posted the comments again after retrieving them from my email box. However, there may be some which were not retained in my mail box and thus I was unable to post those. Apologies.

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