24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
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.
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 first green shoots sprouted up
And out through every single gap,
Nook and cranny in the concrete.
Modernity cannot be stopped,
But nature always finds a way.
© 2017 S Phua
How to make chai (tea)?
Take a pot
fill it with water half full
show your optimism
Put the pot on the stove
on the medium flame
of agony
Add tea leaves— all black
equal to the number of lovers
Charlie has had
Spice it up like your life
put a cardamom, a clove
a pinch of cinnamon
Add sugar
a teaspoon full
so your day shall remain sweet
Pour milk
till the count of five—
the number of friends you’ve in your beehive
Bring it to boil
See the bubbles of your anger
do wonders
Turn off the stove
and your worries
Strain out the tea leaves
Your tea is ready!
Pour it in one of
your fancy cups
Drink it sip by sip
slurrrrp
while it’s still hot
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 man-made structure ever put into space,
Is still no bigger than a football field.
We are humbled by what we have yet to achieve.
© 2017 S Phua
Like the raindrops pounding the bare skin,
Some bouncing back,
like the goodbyes of dear ones.
Some missing the hit,
like the unrequited love.
-Snigdha
–
Blank blink blinded bent
Compared controls compassion can’t
Determine direction dire days
Entrances exits envelope ends
Firing focus final find
God gives good
However held
And anyway, arranges all
She.
Picked.
At the scabs
of *My* marriage.
(so they could not heal)
We could not heal…
How *they* Laughed
(( together ))
…at me…
Discarded window
through my soft soul.
*** SmAssHeD***
setting
~Me~
FREE!
Would you like to come down, said the spider to the fly?
Are you not wearying of your buzzing peregrinations?
Could you not settle down for just a moment?
Will you come into my web of lies?
This enticing parlour of betrayal.
All for a moment of respite.
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is invariably weak.
Surrender then, to the inevitable.
Enter my domain of regret,
And be trapped, helpless as a babe,
In this fatal plight of my weaving, and your weakness.
As I approach, you struggle to no avail.
Your end is nigh.
© 2017 S Phua
Hmmmmm, I wrote about the view from my window in hour six, so I'm going to remember the view from my tower block office, at the top of a very steep hill. The 'ugly, lovely town', is Swansea, now a city, as described in that quote by poet Dylan Thomas.
You can almost see the earth
curve
from this D-block
window on the twelth floor.
You can watch
the buses pull up
and pull out
destined down toward
the ugly, lovely town
You can join the gathering crowd
peering down into a bedroom window
watch an in flagrante couple
part,
the lady cleaning up
discarding the tissue
from their open window.