The Poetry Marathon

I refuse to wait for the opportunity, so I borrow a bike from dad.

Its not a mountain bike nor is it a fixi,

its only a leisure bike,

and all of the bikers would steal a glance at me and the bike,

sometimes simultaneously.

I fixed my gaze and my focus,

only at my goal.

Toughen out myself to get out of bed early,

force a meal before started the journey,

and going all out when riding.

I never thought a grandmother could ride a bike faster than I am.

Bashful at the losing spree,

again I created my new goal which previously focus on slimming.

To defeat those veterans every morning.

A rusty, unmanageable gate welcomed her the second her eyes rest on it

A season of dry and blazing heat of Kedah make those smelly bubbles gallop happily from armpit

A carpet of not-designed-as-dry dying grass became the food of her foot, she strode gently across them, in fear of destroying the nature even more.

However, the ugliness of the garden could not escape her abusive words.

A salon barber’s chair with questionable purpose was left stranded at the porch, her eyes rolled upwards.

As if the baboons really cared for their well-being, such asset was left without extensive care.

A made-for-lazy clothes line with scrap metal look was on her left.

Which she just ignore the existence altogether.

A warm and cozy parlor, completed with nature’s look, with a little bit of modern touch, sooth her heart.

At least,those two baboons still possess little intelligence to keep it the way it is.

A big house, with two parlor, just met a downgrade in taste when she came in contact with the second, totally because of such importance to maintain had left their grasp.

Sometimes her mother would swear on the baboons while walking from the parlor to the kitchen.

But no matter what the baboons did,

the importance of such big house,

still hold great meaning towards its once-in-awhile residents

that’s why, she held in her breath, hiding all her disgust, and putting up her best smile,

started walking towards the kitchen,

to meet her beloved love.

Blinded by the courtesy of a folk

She danced together with them.

Laughing at their jokes,

for all that was actually her.

Its time to be parted, for this time, or maybe forever

Two-some jerked her right, attracts her eyes, and was left au fait

of her reality and their betrayal.

Dear you,

I am you, I am your failure, don’t look around but look at me.

Look at your failure

Because you always run away whenever you see me

You rant at so little time, at so little opportunities, at your misfortune, at your loveless life.

Dear you,

I have seen so much

though I have yet to understand everything

though I have so little experience

but lets journey together

your young

and my weaknesses

we complete each other

Dear you,

Dear . . . Dear . . . Dear . . .

Dear my inner self,

lets unpause what had been paused long ago

start the bike

O’

the bike does not need an engine

It need us to paddle

lets paddle!

It was scorching hot

and it was mid summer

Mama and Papa had gone to the relatives

Leaving me under the care of Chris and Kirk.

Kirk was looking at his left

Not eyeing me

But he’s eyeing the hawker

who was selling ice-cream

at the side road

I kept pestering him about the graffiti on the wall

how I would love to add

green, pink and orange

on the male Asian Black Bear of his

He just glared at me

and sticking his tongue out

trying to show his annoyance

I skidded one,two steps

when Chris called from the front

“Stop, it. You’re gonna get tired”

Kirk and I looked at each other

and giggle were left out

so abruptly

“Where are you headed”

“So hurried

so enthusiast”

“I’m going to find the treasure

no matter what”

“O’ really!”

Me and Kirk both answered

almost simultaneously

Chris just shook his head

lightly

We are almost there

The pottery plants are starting to show up

‘20 more steps from here’

Chris was thinking of a rag doll to be played with

Kirk was admiring a cold, sweet and alluring milky ice-cream

and I was impatient to seat in the shades, away from the heat.

We shall traveled together

Okay, Uncle…

By motorcycle.

Excuse me.

Her voice was restrained

from saying no more

at her uncle

at his relentless effort

so they docked her luggage

between the space

of their seats.

Thank you…

What for, Uncle?

Without you, no one would bring me to town.

That’s what my license for, Uncle. For the benefit of usage, isn’t it…

He only shop his things once every three day

He only owned a motorcycle license

He would wait for her arrival

Every weekend

Four times a week

She missed him

She longed for him

He remained as her most handsomest story.

At first

she was awestruck

looking at the female kitten’s fur

so fluffy and orange

with its white face and orange nose

the kitten went back cuddling at it’s mother.

It has been two months since the kitten was born

It run here and there

but was defeated by humans hand

who were hungry for it’s fur

caressing the kitten as if it’s a cushion.

When it walked

from the kitchen to the parlor

their whistling were ignored

and it went straight to her feet

cause it believed

she won’t infatuated

over it.

The next three months went by

the orange with white dots Turkish Angora

remain devoted

by her feet

the rest finally

throw up the sponge

and conceded

she is the chosen one.

Because it sulk easily

she would lift it

from the floor

onto her lap

and it purred quietly

before napping away.

The house were remodeled

upgraded

and so

they are all stranded at her grandmother’s

along with the kitten

The mesmerizing fur

and elegance walk it presented

attracted the attention of her grandmother

The old madam demands it

she refuses to allow

but give in

after her parents’ instigation.

Only hours away

from the real time

they resided back in the house

when suddenly

the orange with white dots Turkish Angora

heave in sight

at the front door.

She did not shy away and fast making claim for it’s return to their house and they are inseparable.

A child rode her bike ambitiously. She cannot sleep last night, thinking how fun it would be, to be with her grandmother. A closed gate welcomed her wholeheartedly. She didn’t mind the gate, for she knows, her grandmother is an old woman with parched back. The old woman opened the kitchen door, letting her grandchild in, and shut the door. The air inside was gloomy and though its sunny and breezy outside, it felt like someone’s died in the house. The child sat down in an awkward manner, her eyes darted around, and her fingers were fiddling with a ribbon, which she found in her backpack. Probably, its her father’s. Hours went by, when its time to go home, suddenly her grandmother took a note, gave it to her and the child took it with a puzzled look. The old woman said, “Its your allowance.”

innocence and naivety

portrayed by

unnerving and loveless

Tears fall down as much as the rain outside was,

I kept ingeminating, its not possible – cannot be happening,

like the hated porcelain doll, his figure was unchanging,

however, it turns out as poignant comedies, and I became cognizant of his equanimity,

ashamed at my over-bearing deportment,

with the glimpses of his demeanor caught through the glass panel window,

lay bare the distorted and crying face of him,

again tears fall down as much as the rain outside.

A warm evening, while the rain started falling,

He sat down by me, sipping away his bitter and less sweet tea,

Watching me reading the Tombiruo’s series silently,

He declared the reason of his absence in the morning,

which he had previously promised to make breakfast for me,

It was none other than ECG,

not later, he planted a kiss on my cheek, to cheer up his wife, which is me.