24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
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 I will see them soon.
So I have passed this final test,
Now let me put these last words to rest.
Another challenging 24 hours, I must confess,
My marathon is done and now, I convalesce.
© 2017 S Phua
A flower pot resides
next to my work station
Sometimes a flower blooms
with a red glistening texture
its subtle fragrance all over
Sometimes a thorn pricks
my conscience
its consequence all over
The crimson pot—
my muse
stays forever.
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 to perfection,
To the humble carrot (turnip) cake well fried in lard and black soy sauce.
All this I miss, and much more.
A glutton am I, no less,
The pangs of my hunger cannot be satiated,
Oh, that I would be able to partake of them once again!
© 2017 S Phua
The art is nothing
but a piece of life
incarnation
of beauty and love
The curves with the support
remind me of you soothing
touch yearning
for more.
-Snigdha
What do I see at my window?
I see birds playing and singing,
I see flowers trying not to wither,
I see you passing by every day.
And guess for whom do I look at
the window each and every day?
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, this scandalous work remains his tour de force,
A masterpiece of portraiture.
Time and critical appraisal have indeed
Been kind to his fame. And her reputation.
© 2017 S Phua
I said all I had to say
Colour now erase the grey
Morning sun blazes creep
My eyes now heavy longing sleep
A journey now come to end
Blanket well in word you spined
Space
I’ve always been scared
of the space
I’ve seen myself
lost in its eternity
It was the thing you wanted from me
Blank and austere.
I was unable to survive
in the cold purlieus of your space
On the ebb of space,
there is space
and it will remain between us
forever.
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.
© 2017 S Phua
Fighting sleep,
and restlessness.
i made it through
I struggled
I survived.
There were times when I wanted to give up
and snuggle cozily
in the warmth of my bed.
But I’m not quitter.
I made it!
hurray
okay bye Goodnight.