The day has been long. And on the cusp of yet another, Dawn will almost break, But not my flagging, weary muse.   Though there are only street lamps, And dark clouds marring my view Of the beloved mountains on the North Shore, I know…

Is this what I really long for? Not family nor even friends, But only the many delights Of the local cuisine back home.   From sock-filtered ‘Nanyang’ coffee roasted in margarine, To the carefully produced nine-layered ‘Kuih Lapis’ cake, And succulent chicken rice that’s pressure-cooked…

The lady in black, A profile of superciliousness, Her manner haughty, Turning away in disdain.   Some may think Madame Gautreau merely demure, Her manner just an artifice, Instructed in this manner and artistic pose, By Sargent, that society painter of superficiality.   And yet,…

There is this orange bouffanted conman from Queens, Who inflates practically everything it seems, From the length of his hands, and height of his buildings, To the size of his crowds, and all his ‘big’ winnings, Let justice be served when the grand jury convenes….

Along the winding canal where there was once A long swath of overgrown grass, That turned into mud whenever it rained, Overnight, it was all gone. The unruly ‘lallang’ removed, soil levelled, And the ground topped over with concrete.   And yet, scarce months later,…

The International Space Station. Our stepping stone to exploring beyond The confines of our solar system.   The nations of the world Continue to build this gateway to the stars, Module by module.   And yet, this complex feat of science and engineering, The largest…

They were my tomes from childhood. A retreat from the drudgery of schoolwork, That I would escape to at every opportunity. They were my books.   What followed was a wanton calamity Akin to the destruction of the Library of Alexandria. A catastrophe that could…

This growing divide between rich and poor, That disparity between obscene wealth and abject poverty, A gap which grows only larger, not narrower, Fills me with great anger.   Would I to take up my bow and arrows as Robin of the Hood, A pair…

“Bank manager suspected of peculating”, Screamed the evening tabloid Which I glimpsed through the steam in the sauna. I had my raincoat on when I left, Which shielded me when frogs began raining down, On the children in the playground. In the mayhem, an elbow…

I see you first.   The fiddler plays. The dance begins.   We approach warily. Not quite in sync, yet. Sizing each other up first.   Determining the tempo of our feet. The cadence we will take. What will be the resolution of our caper?…