Dust of mountains, petals of
snowdrops. over lights and
horns. Seeking will I stop?
Rain falls into puddles
into thousand broken mirrors
Of spotless youth and stubborn dreams
Flying hair fled from knot
burning battle robe. At my feet
river rushing of glory or rout?
Scent of ancient and now
a body turned cold
is sadness the same?
Pine needles
of warm rain in december
of going west
Rivers of swollen water I dreamt
over life and islands
from my memory I stagger
Lapping water sings medley
of despair. Padi fields emerald
gem in morning mist
Cold winter colours
of leaps, jumps and twirls
on the chair, my eyes dream
Passion or talent
we are no gods or goddesses
past or present
Nutcracker reveals walnuts
of soldiers and mouse king
of no man's land
Drosselmeyer conjures
mice rats army chuckles
but my demons too
Jingle bells ringing on her lips
chestnuts and kinder punch in little hands
her heart springs in her steps
The faint fragrance of pines at home or
the mulled aroma of tingling fingers, roasted nuts and nutcracker.
She asks, did you smell that Christmas scent?
Comforted the baby has Mary and Joseph
Happy the star shines so bright for them
The song sings in her heart
Papa is Nutcracker Prince
she throws houseshoe at Mouse King
fantasy or real, Papa is her prince
From the wet winter, I escape
into crescendo of melody
goose pimples marking the lark
chinese tasting goose broth
german crispy goose
but no rice to goose japanese tummy
Books, scarf, frankfurt
definitely a piece of heart
not face or thought that counts
Overgrown black mop lightened
by scissors. the wind like knife on my skin
the goose like butter under my skin
Cold rain falls from grey sky
we the robots in and out of shops
with things keeping us warm and dry
Front yard of kindergarten
among greetings and hugs, eyes spy
who has the shiniest shoes and coat?
Gifts under the Yule tree
whose smile is the brightest,
child's or adult's?
Does the thought really count
or the face more important?
what about gifting with a piece of your heart?
Succulent pork of rudeness,
juicy belly of ego. I have
no wish to choke on my principle.
You draw the line of ants, waiting
to choose a side. when the rain comes,
you don't recognise which side.
Entwined sinewy fingers like spring tendrils
tender kiss the breath of mountain air
a black disease of doom they are not
Movies
In the shoes of concubines and slaves,
would I survive when life is taken away?
two nights of heaviness.
Raise the red lantern
In the falling snow
she clings onto sanity by
disowning her sanity.
12 years a slave
When hopes are setting sun,
no lights to be seen,
he sings to believe and to live.
Write
The fog outside is the silence
in my head. The reflection staring back
is the blur at my sides.
You say I say they say
throw me curveballs of falseness
I will learn how to dodge
Like vampires who have
eternal time. ripple still water
to stifle yawns
All smiles and brave face
teeming with doubts and needs
waiting to be pacified
Good or bad
Able or mediocre
You know deep inside
He sniffles, she frowns
she blows nose at the table
I frown
He sells same curry
she sells biryani dry with pride
which will you choose?
The voice is their own
I drown in their feeling
but flinch at fake voices of dub
Winterland of roasted goose
the blanket of chinese films and hot soup
is warm
No need to choose
defining written words or watching
words acted out. I embrace both.
