tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199280862024-03-18T21:05:30.528-07:00PO.ET.CETERAthinking not living. world not singapore. poetry not prose.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-85782940147112809262008-09-28T02:27:00.000-07:002008-12-07T01:22:52.309-08:00"TEHRAN MARKET" - sightseeing in Iran<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zKOmOu0NV0_WujQAY6DNW59In3YMzr4RsASQo1dJnjPllBWFK8qolczha4dYPzxUzwshyphenhyphenVE5BImxf66mN_zxaCOsRVsz7NDYKoiye6vTQj4-3JfDOZuVe6QHgWJ2V14hpYKn9w/s1600-h/01112007298.jpg"></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEkR2u1kiiGJ4i-4FZL_gwv8d1e353JQ6x1VMXtEpYIvhOBMZ7Qb-ea4BIOzan2P0EvJemtP3Emb6KdaKghjcEuJ-dg1nlBWFje9oIp96HXhaa93vUtBJVMnurnPJ_BhZkZk9Xg/s1600-h/31102007220.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251055886955154578" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEkR2u1kiiGJ4i-4FZL_gwv8d1e353JQ6x1VMXtEpYIvhOBMZ7Qb-ea4BIOzan2P0EvJemtP3Emb6KdaKghjcEuJ-dg1nlBWFje9oIp96HXhaa93vUtBJVMnurnPJ_BhZkZk9Xg/s320/31102007220.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Scents scatter in mosaic square<br />Bright colours overflow the stands<br />Carrots elbow aubergines<br />Rotkohl rest on riotous herbs<br />Apples vie with golden pears<br />Grapes accost cucumbers<br />Rows of fish glisten coolly<br />Fat red carcasses hang majestically<br />Olives in glass jars jostle to stare<br />At baskets heaped with fruit and nut<br />Flatbreads made in flour dusted shops<br />Iced pomegranate and baked beetroot<br />Beckon from tiny streetside stalls<br />Free spirits pierce their dark garb </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Warm smiles light up guarded looks</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Open hearts overrule covered heads</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">To tell the story of Tehran.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">1107</span></div><br /><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-41641532597614908182008-01-24T09:20:00.000-08:002008-12-03T08:16:17.212-08:00"BROTHER" - about dying, and having lived fully<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2Q6ZOOpUjxNzA6IQIM0iEoKYQdOAz-7acBmt64Uuhh8qAuoecqk1Ji_baIvRSWc3fabLXRXRuqlyGECbXWSlAPJ8J3BG5Ns8kLCm-t-3JLB5Kj1EOLsmLjsW36oiyXLHzSXEgA/s1600-h/lily.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275598352351428370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 109px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2Q6ZOOpUjxNzA6IQIM0iEoKYQdOAz-7acBmt64Uuhh8qAuoecqk1Ji_baIvRSWc3fabLXRXRuqlyGECbXWSlAPJ8J3BG5Ns8kLCm-t-3JLB5Kj1EOLsmLjsW36oiyXLHzSXEgA/s320/lily.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Still you lie<br />With enigmatic smile<br />A whisper away<br />A universe apart<br />Your family bereaved<br />Inconsolable<br /><br />Generous heart<br />Made a mark<br />Playful prince<br />Missed by friends<br />Husband, father<br />Cheated by time<br />Favourite son<br />Who blames a mother?<br /><br />Brother<br />I never got to know<br />Till late in the day<br />Night came too soon<br />But rest well<br />And God bless<br />My brother<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">0507</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-44445687667722729732007-10-04T11:33:00.000-07:002015-10-27T10:20:15.253-07:00"IMMORTALITY" - what it means to die on the right side of history<span style="font-size: 85%;">Farewell trusted lieutenant<br />Like the others you surrender<br />‘Gainst the grim reaping contingent<br />There’s no earthly rejoinder.<br /><br />No shrine to your successes<br />No praise from men of reputation<br />Will count as nation assesses<br />If you’re worthy of exaltation.<br /><br />Weapons to persuade the masses<br />Beacons to enlighten history<br />Use them on the confused classes<br />How to win them is no mystery.<br /><br />No right of reply when dead<br />No law after life on defamation<br />But fear not, trusted comrade<br />We secure your immortalisation.</span><br />
<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">0706</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-52535347561611505612007-10-04T10:19:00.000-07:002015-10-27T10:22:27.725-07:00"THE TREE" - the day the tree-huggers lost the battleYou were there<br />
living signal to speeding driver<br />
that city and nature have space for each other<br />
<br />
You were left<br />
pointing fingers at rush hour artery<br />
that had razed your lush sanctuary<br />
<br />
You were made<br />
charming oddity for all to see<br />
standing between lane two and three<br />
<br />
You were damned<br />
sentenced by intolerance<br />
dismissed as inconvenience<br />
<br />
You are dying<br />
in silent pain as they saw<br />
away with the might of the law<br />
<br />
You are vanquished<br />
lofty intentions bid lowly retreat<br />
green slogans paved over with concrete<br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">0907</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-58894456383418902972007-10-04T10:08:00.000-07:002008-09-28T06:19:47.138-07:00"SAILING" - with the wind to another worldGentle nudges on uncertain bow<br />reluctance rules for still second<br />boat budges sails luff lazily<br />telltales desultory<br /><br />Now in the open sea<br />waves bombard<br />starboard bow with stories<br />of arduous journeys from distant dangers<br />winds regale<br />surging sails with songs<br />of sleepy isles and busy harbours<br /><br />Their rhymes and rhythms<br />bear the boat<br />on angels’ wings<br />flying on the breath of God<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">0307<br /><br /></span></em><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1162574994303467152006-11-03T09:18:00.000-08:002008-09-28T04:03:14.466-07:00"SUCCESS" - when the daily grind and money chase lose their shineYou slave like a bondmaid<br />To what end<br />You chase your own tail<br />Like a fiend.<br /><br />If your yardstick’s money<br />For whose use<br />If your end game’s fame<br />Watch the noose.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">0706</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1157215622302456162006-09-02T09:45:00.000-07:002008-09-28T06:24:25.854-07:00"GERMANY 2006" - crazy about soccer but thrills and spills still end in nilBloodsweat on straining muscles<br />In jerseys bold and bright<br />Lusty cheers to flame the tussles<br />On fields marked out in white.<br /><br />The golden gods of soccer whistle<br />Every sporting soul is caught<br />Bewitched by a month long battle<br />Over each ball fiercely fought.<br /><br />The nations show off skill and spirit<br />The crowds shout their fervour<br />Hats off to the players of grit<br />Cheers to dives of valour.<br /><br />Angry jeers at every pickle<br />Tears over shock defeat<br />Bets on Spain, Brazil, Portugal<br />All off in the summer heat.<br /><br />The precious sleep we sacrifice<br />As idols conquer or fall<br />Our dazed heads and glazed eyes<br />Offerings to the gilded ball.<br /><br />Now ends the drama and action<br />Our routine’s back on track<br />But from the season of passion<br />Life’s lessons in a pack.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>0706</em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1156945441986882292006-08-30T06:43:00.000-07:002009-01-19T08:10:09.132-08:00"AWAKENING" - funny how politics entertain us but twice a decadeThe underdogs had wasted no time<br />Five years sniffing out territory<br />Preparing for their rocky climb<br />Up the everest of political reality<br />Towards that foolish elusive ideal<br />Of stoking some democratic tradition<br />And growing from seed its appeal<br />Among the dozing docile nation.<br /><br />Battered, belittled, still unscarred<br />The pack endured, more than cheered<br />By signs of welcome no-holds-barred.<br />Thirty thousand, not one as feared<br />Braved the mud and lightning storm<br />Shoulder to shoulder on tilted field<br />The underdogs surpassed their form<br />In the crowd they needed no shield.<br /><br />Awakened from slumber the puppies<br />Opened eyes to a braver new world<br />From mere me-and-mine yuppies<br />Voices curbed and ideals furled<br />To excited electorate careless of cost<br />Ready to paint by numbers their desire.<br />Half the battle's won the other lost<br />Half a decade to fan the next fire.<br /><br /><em>Epilogue<br /></em>Circus over, the players scatter<br />A meagre mixed trio left on stage<br />Strive in hope that they can matter<br />And somehow the doubts assuage.<br />But the underdogs soon despair<br />The great white troops rest assured<br />Their foes' campaign in disrepair<br />All chances of victory obscured.<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">0606</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1156866003437329082006-08-29T08:37:00.000-07:002008-09-28T04:08:30.842-07:00"HANOI" - charming city with shades of old VietnamThrow-back city with long shopping streets<br />Ugly buildings amidst colonial charm<br />Two million motorbikes constantly hounded<br />By the habitual honking of passing cars<br />Pockets of green parks<br />Activity filled lakes<br />Tranquil temples<br />The old museum<br />Scattered with proletariat art<br />And frayed silk paintings<br /><br />Chatting workers on low stools<br />Hurry through their roadside lunch<br />Swanky tourists on high chairs<br />Delight in Viet-French fare<br /><br />My impressions have faded<br />But clear is the sound<br />Of a hundred old ladies<br />chanting the Hail Mary<br />in their own dialect<br />filling the cavernous blue<br />of St Joseph’s cathedral<br />drowning out the motorbikes<br />the sounds of Hanoi<br />Their city to remember<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">1105</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1156607099799106942006-08-26T08:43:00.000-07:002008-09-28T04:09:57.186-07:00"REGRETS" - ever panicked at the thought of being too old to start something new?Lonely<br />stranded with thoughts<br />of a life wasted<br />so many<br />false starts<br />dead ends<br />mindless retakes<br />ceaseless circles<br />there is no road ahead<br />each time hope glimmers<br />the tunnel is too dark<br />courage forsakes<br />desire wavers<br />time chimes<br />away in despairUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1134781968203576542005-12-16T17:08:00.000-08:002008-09-28T04:12:59.492-07:00"FOUR WALLS" - growing old with Singapore's first HDB satellite town<span style="font-family:georgia;">These four walls</span><br />have seen me grow<br />from toddler to adult.<br />This concrete cubicle<br />with others identical<br />give shelter<br />to family<br />upon family<br />stacked up<br />in matrices<br />ten by ten<br />a hundred of them<br />side by side.<br /><br />Twenty years<br />have left marks<br />that coats of paint<br />could never hide.<br />Yet life writes on<br />the same old<br />down to earth script<br />on yellowed paper<br />as we shuttle daily<br />in and out<br />our little homes<br />acting out<br />our little lives<br />like bees<br />in concrete hives.<br /><br />So interwoven<br />yet independent<br />our lives unfold<br />our little stories<br />get retold<br />from door to door<br />laughter bounces<br />from pillar to pillar<br />anger echoes<br />from floor to floor<br />and sorrow seeps<br />through hollow walls<br />as children grow<br />and parents<br />become old.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">0388</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1134757879028404762005-12-16T10:26:00.000-08:002015-10-27T10:24:33.447-07:00"RIVER" - oblivious as it swept through a sleepy city down under<span style="font-family: georgia;">The river plodded along with me<br />like a condescending old queen<br />I threw at her mental stones<br />hating her so calm and serene<br /><br />Something screamed in me<br />and struggled to be free<br />that wild conflict that cried<br />searched and clawed inside<br /><br />The river swept on unperturbed<br />ignored my mad disquiet<br />flowed on by me undisturbed<br />and mocked my mental riot<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size: 78%;">0984</span></em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1134757244728100882005-12-16T10:07:00.000-08:002015-04-02T10:41:28.383-07:00"IF WALLS COULD TALK" - a belated wish to have loved someone more<span style="font-family: georgia;">If walls could talk</span><br />
would they tell of years<br />
of loneliness unrelieved<br />
but by the sounds of children<br />
who visit now and then<br />
and as they grow into adulthood<br />
strayed far from the home<br />
of one who truly loved them<br />
<br />
Would these walls speak<br />
of the struggles of one<br />
who survived on today's bread<br />
and lived on tomorrow's hopes<br />
of a better world than this<br />
<br />
Would they know her dreams<br />
her lonely frustrations<br />
untold aspirations<br />
never shared<br />
with those whom she loved<br />
<br />
Would these walls recall<br />
the sadness that weighed<br />
upon her weak shoulders<br />
while waiting for<br />
people she loved<br />
people who never came<br />
<br />
If walls could talk<br />
would they tell of the shame<br />
of these heartless souls<br />
who sent her away<br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">1183</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1134756465181476162005-12-16T10:01:00.000-08:002008-09-28T04:27:37.012-07:00"LONELY PEOPLE" - step out of your shell (you'll regret it less)Lonely people like looking<br />out from windows to see<br />others bustling by<br />to stare at their world<br />from inside<br />too scared<br />to share it<br />outside<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">0983</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1134755084650901212005-12-16T09:35:00.000-08:002008-09-28T04:37:00.012-07:00"SKINNY OLD MAN" - the foolish observations of the very young<span style="font-family:georgia;">Skinny old man curling round the bus-stop seat</span><br />basking in the sun<br />his green cotton tee shirt and long khaki shorts<br />that soiled crumpled look<br />thumbing its nose at fashion<br /><br />Paddling off on his bare feet<br />thin legs lifting awkwardly with each uneven step<br />his bald head tilting<br />glancing with childlike interest all around him<br />a fascinating world<br /><br />He wasn't old after all<br />seemed so at first sight<br />He's young though<br />and younger inside<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">983</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19928086.post-1134753918231672472005-12-16T09:17:00.000-08:002008-09-28T04:38:38.807-07:00"WHITE FLOWERS" - soothed by an encounter with natureWhite flowers crystallised on green<br />branches gracefully arched over<br />that wallowing sorry drain near<br />a rubbish heap that weaves<br />stale despondency into the air<br />Round the corner the construction site<br />in mindless arrogance puffs out smoke<br />and dust that choke the air<br />But somehow your sweet frangrance<br />hovers in mid air like a spell<br />so one who ventures near enough<br />may sense above the smoke and stench<br />the soothing perfume of your scent<br />gentle persuasion<br />amidst wilful destruction<br /><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">0382</span></em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0