The Dead Soldier's talk by Ha Jin

The Dead Soldier’s Talk
In September 1969, in a shipwreck accident on the Tuman River, a young Chinese soldier was drowned saving a plaster statue of Chairman Mao. He was awarded Merit Citation 2, and was buried at a mountain foot in Hunchun County, Jilin.

I’m tired of lying here.
The mountain and the river are not bad.
Sometimes a bear, a boar, or a deer
       comes to this place
as if we were a group of outcast comrades.
I feel lonely and I miss home.
It is very cold when winter comes.
I saw you coming just now
like a little cloud wandering over grassland.
I knew it must have been you,
for no other had come for six years.
Why have you brought me wine and meat
       and paper-money again?
I have told you year after year
that I am not superstitious.
Have you the red treasure book with you?
I have forgotten some quotations.
You know I don’t have a good memory.
Again, you left it home.
How about the statue I saved?
Is it still in the museum?
Is our Great Leader in good health?
I wish He live ten thousand years!
Last week I dreamed of our mother
showing my medal to a visitor.
She was still proud of her son
and kept her head up
while going to the fields.
She looked older than last year
and her grey hair troubled my eyes.
I did not see our little sister.
She must be a big girl now.
Has she got a boy friend?
Why are you crying?
Say something to me.
So you think I can’t hear you?
In the early years
you came and stood before my tomb
swearing to follow me as a model.
In recent years
you poured tears every time.
Damn you, why don’t you open your mouth?
Something must have happened.
What? Why don’t you tell me!

By Ha Jin
This poem originally appeared in The Paris Review, #101, Winter 1986.

The Haircut
When we quarreled last time
you promised to give me a special haircut.
Yesterday you fulfilled your word
by shaving my head bald.
You could not straighten your body
and laughed until tears came to your eyes.
How proud you were
while telling your friends
about the masterwork at home!
Our daughter laughed too.
She laughed,
for her daddy’s head was shining like a bulb.
In fact, I also laughed at myself,
for when I lost my first love
I shaved my head the same way.
In our town everybody sighed and shook his head
seeing me walking in the streets
without my dark curly hair
except the girl I loved
who laughed and loved my haircut.
Ha Jin

It takes so long to forget

An embrace for a season may take a lifetime of winters to forget.
A kiss from a lover's lips makes an eternity seem like a short breath.
@ YMC October 2013

Why (draft)

I miss you
I wish I didn't but I do.
I remember we once met
We made love
And at some point after I fell in love with you.
It was our conversation, your company that touched my heart
The more I got to know you the more I wanted to be with you.
Perhaps the opposite was the same with you.
I don't know.
I don't know because you won't write back.
I wish you would say something
Tell me why
What did I do wrong?
Will I see you again?

Love is so fleeting
Forgetting takes so long.
You now seem like a dream I had a long time ago.
A good dream
But a dream that is fading.
Not a day goes by without my thinking of you.I browse through my memories like a child re-reads his favorite story book.
Mesmerized at the special pages.
Whispering out the words.
Memory is such a cruel thing
It won't let me forget you.

But I fear you are indifferent to my affection, even my being.

My love for you is undaunted by your silence (draft)

with appreciation to pablo neruda...


I am undaunted by your silence
It is like the night sky
Beautiful, full of mystery,


I am undaunted by your silence
It is as though you were asleep in my bed
And you cannot speak

I am undaunted by your silence
It is as if you were far away
And my voice does not reach you.

I am undaunted by your silence
It is as if you do not know the right words to say
And you are thinking.

I am undaunted by your silence
It is as if you are weeping and cannot speak
And I am on the other side of your door.

Let me come to be still in your silence
To gaze into your mystery
To watch you as you sleep
To draw near to your faraway place
To find the right words to say
To open your door.

A Dolphin's Song

I dive the deep blue
To depths no man has been
I am wild
I am free
You will not touch me

Yet you come with hook and net
To ensnare to kill
You would devour the entire sea for your next meal
You herd my brethen
You cage some.
You kill the others.

We who were once many
Are now so few
You who were once so few
Are now so many
One day you will kill us all
Even me
But not today


As I rise up to breathe
I break free
from the bounds of my watery world
I jump
Briefly I fly
I soar through the sky
I feel so alive.
       Yauming Chiam 2013  

Tonight I can write the saddest lines by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tries to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Phoenix fire - Draft

(This is a fictional story of a fireman who lost everything during the terrible bushfire on Black Saturday in Victoria 2009. I haven't completed it yet.)

Phoenix Fire thy beauty inspire
Mortal Men to accomplish immortal things,
Through heat and molten rain
Thy Birth is borne in utter pain

A man stands alone on a pristine beautiful beach. He is tall, handsome, well built, rugged. A perfect specimen of Australian manhood. Once he was offered a spot on the Collingwood football team. He rejected it, he hated Collingwood. :)


He is alone. Early morning. The air is bitingly cold. But the man does not notice even though he’s wearing just a pair of board shorts.

The beach is immense; the white sandy shoreline stretches for miles. There is absolutely no sign of human habitation. No cigarette butts, no broken bottles, just white fine sand washed for eons in the cold salt oceanic waters.

It was as beautiful as it was since the first day of creation.

He has been staring out into the vast ocean for a long time, it seems to have a hypnotic hold on him. Suddenly, he breaks into a jog, crashed into the roaring surf and dives into the foaming sea and starts swimming straight towards the horizon.

His name is Jack Brown and he's going to kill himself today.




He swam through that cold sea. The frigid current from the Antarctic met the South Australian Ocean here. His breaths were measured. His movements calm. Jack looked quite relaxed for someone who was planning to commit suicide by drowning. He planned to just swim until he ran out of strength and the ocean consumes him.

Jack was quite calm. Ridiculously serene actually. Everything seemed matter of fact. He didn't want to live any more. And today was a good day to die. He would just continue swimming pacing himself. Be the first man to swim to the South Pole, he thought to himself, and added “and then to be eaten by a Polar Bear”, and laughed.

Yet his strong sinewy muscles grew cold in the waters. Hypothermia was setting in. After a few more hours, he would get muscle cramps, he would struggle in the open sea. The dark waves would swallow him and he would finally drown.

All kinds of thoughts and past events were swirling around in his head like a merry go round. But it was too painful, too horrible for him to remember. He struggled with the haunting images in his mind and failed to overcome them. And so retreated into the physical world and concentrated on his swimming. Crafting every stroke. Measuring each breath. Perfecting the motion. Onwards he swam boldly in the blue sea. Alone and unafraid of its cold dark depths, yet paradoxically fearful of the monsters that slumbered inside his own mind.
After several hours of swimming, he heard a voice. He paused, incredulous. He was by now miles out into the open sea. He kept on swimming and the voice grew more louder and desperate. He stopped swimming again and started looking around. Was he going crazy? It was a woman's voice. Insane, out here??? And she was crying for help.

3

Jack swam towards the sound of her cries for help and found the drowning woman. She was struggling in the current, exhausted and desperately trying to keep her head above water.

He reached her just as she was about to disappear beneath the grey sea.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

She spluttered: "Who are .... I'm fucking drowning. What the hell do you think??".

His eyes was still clouded in disbelief and then she snapped, "The boat!"

He turned and looked - and saw the yacht a few miles away.

The current was strong - and it was a tough struggle to reach the boat. There was a loud party that was going on - plenty of alcohol. Pretty women in colorful bikinis. It didn't seem as if anyone would have noticed them. Fortunately, someone spotted their cries for help and a small dingy was launched to help Jack.

4

By this time everyone on the ship stopped whatever they were doing and watched the dingy rescue.

Jack felt very self conscious as they were both helped onto the deck. He felt uneasy with all the attention, especially the young women whose eyes wandered over his body sinfully.

A tall large man came forward and put out his hand.

"Mate, thanks for saving my wife."

"Yeah, no worries."

"My name with Kerry Wever. My mates call me "Weave". And this is my boat. Make yourself at home. Can I get you a beer mate?"



Jack shrugged. But Weave pushed a bottle into his hands.

"Here have this. Its great stuff – it’s a boutique Tasmanian lager." I liked it so much I bought the brewery.

The tall man eyed Jack inquisitively and rolled, "So where's your boat?"

Jack stared stone faced not knowing what to say. A few of the beautiful young girls crowded around Kerry, staring at the stranger with cat like femininity.

He stammered, the effects of the hypothermia still clogging his brain cells, "I don't have one... I err... I was out for a swim."

"You were out for a WHAT?!!!"  a bemused Kerry barked, almost choking on his words.

The girls started giggling.

"A Swim." muttered Jack defensively.

"Out here?"

"@#k mate. You've come out a @#king long way for a @#$king swim mate." Kerry said with a mocking tone.

A grizzly looking man from the boat's bridge - leaned over the railing and said,

"Boss, if you're trying to swim to Tasmania you're a bit late mate."

"Tasmania???" Jack startled, feeling very foolishly. He had this image of himself running aground into a Tasmania beach and screwing up his suicide attempt.

"A sheila's done it already. Swam there in 14 hours across the Bass. But you're going the wrong way mate, you're heading to the South Pacific Ocean."

At this stage, Jack angrily gritted his teeth and wanted to jump back into the ocean and carry on his swim the moment their backs were turned.

Kerry, having had a good laugh, and seeing the pain in Jack's face, slapped him on his back.

"Sorry son. We're just having some fun."

"Sit down. You must be exhausted. You're 100km out at sea."

"Come join us - we've got some great sausages on the barbie."


The aroma of fresh barbecued steak and sausages drifted through the air. But to Jack it was a stench. The smell of burnt meat nauseated him.

When he saw the BBQ machine, his face turned pale. On that grill instead of sausages lay the body parts of a child sizzling in the flames.


(to be continued...)


YaummingChiam Copyright 2009

The Mermaid and the Drunks - Pablo Neruda

Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks

All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

Pablo Neruda

 

Sometimes in your life, someone comes along and you are overwhelmed so much so that you seem to dislike the person because of the emotions she arouses. You are caught in "her" net but by escaping you hurt her beyond healing.

I am...

I am like a kite without the wind
I am like the ship adrift in the ocean
I am the wanderer with no home of his own
I am the lover who is left alone.
YMC September 4th 2013.

Lana Del Rey - Ride: An abandonment to the senses

There's something about this song that resonates with me. I've experienced epic triumphs when I thought I had made it for good. All my problems were over. I was going to live the rest of my life in luxury and sheer happiness. Then suddenly through a series of unfortunate events - that in hindsight seemed fated to happen - it was all taken away from me.

I think the lifestyle that is being advocated in this video is ... sad. But I've done stupid things before so I don't judge. Yet, that wanton, promiscuous, hair in the wind, attitude is intoxicating to behold.

http://poptrashaddicts.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/lana-del-reys-ride-video-review.html




I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer - not a very popular one,
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn't really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I'd been living, they asked me why - but there's no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it's like to seek safety in other people - for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean...
And if I said I didn't plan for it to turn out this way I'd be lying...
Because I was born to be the other woman.
Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn't even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

I've been out on that open road
You can be my full time daddy,
White and gold
Singing blues has been getting old
You can be my full time baby,
Hot or cold

Don't break me down
I've been travelin' too long
I've been trying too hard
With one pretty song

I hear the birds on the summer breeze,
I drive fast, I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,
but I, I've got a war in my mind
So, I just ride, just ride,
I just ride, just ride

Dying young and I'm playing hard
That's the way my father made his life an art
Drink all day and we talk 'til dark
That's the way the road dogs do it – ride 'til dark.

Don't leave me now
Don't say good bye
Don't turn around
Leave me high and dry

I hear the birds on the summer breeze,
I drive fast, I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,
but I, I've got a war in my mind
I just ride, just ride,
I just ride, just ride

I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy
I'm tired of driving 'til I see stars in my eyes
It's all I've got to keep myself sane, baby
So I just ride, I just ride

I hear the birds on the summer breeze,
I drive fast, I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,
but I, I've got a war in my mind
I just ride, just ride,
I just ride, I just ride

[Music video spoken ending:]
Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people, and finally I did on the open road.
We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore, except to make our lives into a work of art.
Live fast. Die young. Be wild. And have fun.
I believe in the country America used to be.
I believe in the person I want to become.
I believe in the freedom of the open road.
And my motto is the same as ever:
"I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I’m at war with myself I ride, I just ride."
Who are you?
Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them?
I have. I am fucking crazy.
But I am free.

Natalie Portman with Pablo Neruda's words.mov

Father's Day 1 September 2013

My Father
You are everything I cannot be
I am condemned to stay in your shadow
Your contempt
Your disappointment haunt me

Morning wakeup 5am

For some reason, maybe due to the diving trips, I've been waking up at really early hours for over two months. I'm also losing weight - gosh I can see my abs in focus now. Not sure exactly why.


But waking up at 5am is not such a bad thing - unless I decide to email or text a friend.

I wrote this when I woke up.

The blackness of the night calls out my name. I wake. 
Its 5am. The silence of night lulls me out of slumber. 
Its not even Dawn and I'm fully awake.
With No dreams to remember I begin my day early.
Unnaturally early. Again. 
A fine way to begin the 1st September. 
Time for a morning run? 
But its not even dawn. 
YMC 1.9. 2013

Postscript - actually I think its quite likely the fact that I wake up every morning with a hard wood. The exercising, the healthy diet, have somehow contributed to a new body for me. Waking up at 5am with a huge erection would be wonderful if I had my female friend to share it with. But she's far away in heart and body. Not even sure she's my friend anymore. I miss her dearly.

Lana Del Rey - Video Games

"Video Games"

Swinging in the backyard
Pull up in your fast car
Whistling my name

Open up a beer
And you say, "Get over here
And play a video game."

I'm in his favorite sun dress
Watching me get undressed
Take that body downtown

I say, "You the bestest."
Lean in for a big kiss
Put his favorite perfume on

Go play a video game

It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do

Singing in the old bars
Swinging with the old stars
Living for the fame

Kissing in the blue dark
Playing pool and wild darts
Video games

He holds me in his big arms
Drunk and I am seeing stars
This is all I think of

Watching all our friends fall
In and out of Old Paul's
This is my idea of fun
Playing video games

It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do

Now you do
Now you do
Now you do

Now, now you do
Now you do
Now you do

It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do

Now you do
Now you do
Now you do
(Now you do)
Now you do
Now you do
Now you do 

 

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lanadelrey/videogames.html

The longest wait Draft 1

The longest wait is when your love does not reply

Your letter goes unanswered and you do not know why.

Email, whatsapp, facebook, messenger, SMS, phone, skype

We have one million ways of communicating today

But her heart is one million light years away

And nothing will reach her.

The longest wait is when your love does not reply

You speak, you shout, you whisper

But its all in vain

You're just talking to the air.

There is no one listening.
Still you try.
No one is listening
But sadly still you try.

YMC 31st August 2013.

My love is shameless Draft 1

My love (for you) is shameless
It is like fire
It consumes me
Torments me
I am on fire
And they laugh


I am beyond caring any more.
My love for you consumes me
It drives me to despair
I am trapped in this train and I can't leave.

My Desire is like a freight train roaring through my heart
In the darkness of the night
It stops for nothing
It just keeps on going
Blaring its industrial horn
I'm like a passenger inside this beast.

You can hear it howling.

It terrifies you and you flee
I am so sorry
I cannot make it stop
The fire within me can't be quenched easily.


My love for you is shameless
It does not care about me
It humiliates me, torments me, consumes me.
Burning me to destruction.
I am on fire and you flee.

YMC 29 August 2013.

Sometimes the affection you have for that one person suddenly drives you to do the most outrageous things that shock even the one that you like or love or are infatuated with.

I'm a romantic and when I like someone - I may do things which seems silly, stupid.

And the saddest thing is that the more I talk or say, the more she is repulsed and turns away.

Walk Away with me Draft 2

The road is long
My burden is heavy
I speak but I might as well be talking to the air
The ancient map we have is flawed
It makes no sense

But my cruel companions push on
I walk in silence afraid to speak
It makes no sense
My complaints are answered with platitudes
It makes no sense

I close my eyes but the questions never stop muttering
It makes no sense
We took a wrong turn again
But we don't stop

I try and argue but they laugh
Is this a joke?
It makes no sense
I cannot go on. I cannot.

My religion does not make sense
I cannot subscribe to beliefs I do not believe in

I will not carry on walking with people who believe in such things.
I do not worship a book
I worship a living God
I must get out NOW.

Then as we pass a shadowy overhang
I slip away.


And find you in the darkness.
We've never met yet it seems we have known each other forever

We walk and I hold your hand
And we share the sunset together.

I feel you touch my heart
It glows slowly then burns brighter than the sun
But you look away with a smile.
You look beautiful in the twilight
But you already knew that.

The darkness fallsYour smile fades
And I lose sight of you.
I call out your name but you do not reply
The blackness of the night shrouds my sight
In silence I wait for the dawn
YMC June/August 2013

I am not your son Draft 1

I am not your son
Even though you gave birth to me.
Our thought patterns are not the same
Our desires are so far apart
The things I love you detest

What I have done
The great deeds I have performed
You scorn
You mock
You destroy

On the altar of your pride
I have gathered the bonfire wood
You sacrifice your very own Issac
Eagerly you stab the blade down
Rejoicing as my blood runs out

And the angel stood aghast and wept

Poetry as Therapy: Rachel McKibbens at TEDxFlourCity

Pablo Neruda-I Like For You To Be Still (Narrator/Glenn Close)

I just discovered Pablo Neruda's work - and wow, I'm impressed. His poem "I like for you to be still" is so beautiful. Well, I admit I'm a diehard romantic. I don't watch football on TV or for that matter any other sport... except perhaps skiing and surfing. But I do love the sound of good poetry. Hope you enjoy listening to this. I certainly did.


I like for you to be still 
It is as though you are absent 
And you hear me from far away 
And my voice does not touch you
 It seems as though your eyes had flown away
 And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
 As all things are filled with my soul
 You emerge from the things 
Filled with my soul
 You are like my soul 
A butterfly of dream 
And you are like the word: Melancholy 

I like for you to be still 
And you seem far away 
It sounds as though you are lamenting 
A butterfly cooing like a dove 
And you hear me from far away 
And my voice does not reach you 
Let me come to be still in your silence 
And let me talk to you with your silence 
That is bright as a lamp 
Simple, as a ring 
You are like the night 
With its stillness and constellations 
Your silence is that of a star 
As remote and candid 

I like for you to be still 
It is as though you are absent
 Distant and full of sorrow 
So you would've died 
One word then, One smile is enough 
And I'm happy; 
Happy that it's not true.

Singapore 2004

Soft is the velvet night sky
Quiet is the black night
A gentle breeze passes by
In stillness I patiently wait for Dawn

 YmC Sophia Road, April 2004 

I wrote this poem by my balcony back in 2004. I had returned back to Singapore because one of my very close relatives had lost a tremendous amount of our family estate's wealth gambling on the stock market. It was a sum most people will never see in their life time yet this person who is so frugal with her pennies somehow managed to lose a colossal sum in a matter of years. It was a fucking huge sum of money. It wasn't just all gone. She had also managed to mortgage our properties to her debt. We were in deep shit.

To compound matters - she was unrepentant. It wasn't her that called me back - it was the bank credit officer who did. She didn't even have the courage to let us know we were being made bankrupt through her ineptitude. The interest we owed to the banks amounted to an annual salary. I could not walk away from this disaster because of the family legal connections.

The relative refused to admit that she fucked up and kept on insisting that I hand over more cash and to let her handle it. The utter stupidity of her request was really beyond her comprehension.

Clearly she was deluded and verging on insanity. She refused any form of counseling and refused to talk to anyone who did not see the situation her way.
 
But I managed to convince her to go back home to Australia and let me take care of the problem. And so I took over the problem, sent the relative back home, and tried to settle the debts. I remember thinking back then - "How the hell am I going to fix this shit up?" I may have even promised God a few things I couldn't really deliver - go figure.

But I do remember sitting by my balcony, and enjoying the tranquility of the night air (with the exception of those pesky mosquitoes.) It had a certain calm, cool, fragrant, even enchanting delightful feel.

After about a year I managed by the Grace of God to make an untenable financial situation very bearable. Amazingly enough!!! Good heavens I felt I was the king of the world. I fixed it!!!! It was going to be alright!!!

Unfortunately my close relative didn't see it that way. Once everything had been settled- she kept back with a vengeance. Like a demon out of hell she dragged us back into the bonfire again, except this time - it was even worse. So I guess I'm still waiting patiently for Dawn again.

The wait is long. And I'm tired.

Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVII

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda

I don't get parts of this poem. The references to salt-rose and topaz might as well be chewing gum and badminton.

But the other parts to this poem - I get it. The ones in bold.

I get it. You can meet a million women and then suddenly this one - this one attracts you like no other. There is something in the way she talks. The way she thinks. The small gestures she makes. The sound of her voice. Her smile. And you don't care what she does.You don't even care that she has just broken your heart. And you have no other way than to just tell her the plain truth. Already your body, your speech betray your heart.

The Boat and the Sea

“To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.”

Edgar Lee Masters

http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/283960-spoon-river-anthology

All my possessions for a moment of time

"All my possessions for a moment of time"  was apparently the last words that Queen Elizabeth the 1st said before she died. Some people speculate that she was wishing for her ex-lover Robert Dudley.

I wrote a poem along those lines a couple of months back - no relation to recent events.

All my possessions for a moment of time  
A moment to reflect 
A moment to ponder  
A moment to weep for what was lost
All my possessions for a moment of your time 

A time long gone 
A lover that cannot love back 
A moment lost forever
 
All my possessions are useless to me 
My gold, my silver, my palatial palaces 
They cannot love me, they cannot return your affection
I would trade all my possessions  
To hear your voice say my name kindly again 
To feel the touch of your hand on my cheek 
To sleep on the warmth of your chest.
No more. No more. You are gone.  
Dust. And all I have are my possessions.
What good are they to me now?
  Yauming Chiam April 2013.

5 years ago - A wedding poem 10th August 2008

I used to do most of my blogging on another site called "www.multiply.com" - but it has since changed direction and ejected all of the bloggers.

I have had to import all my blogs from that period over to blogger. A lot of them are just junk. But I wrote some nice stuff as well - like this one:


It seems very sad that as wedding ceremonies/ honeymoons become more and more elaborate, fantastic, and expensive, the greater the number of divorces.

Beautiful wedding ceremony - pity it didn't last as long as the expiry date of the cake.
Perhaps too much attention is being paid to the exterior, external surface of marriages, and less on the actual integrity of the relationship. You can see all that on the Woman's Day magazines - glamor glamor glamor... omg wedding rings, designer wedding dresses, wedding dinners of the century, celebrity guests... and then... what happens?

(Having said that - I believe that marriages in ages past - were often iron rod legal contracts - in which both parties never knew each other - in which women were treated as a commodity, property, not as a human being... but custom, traditional, and misogynistic factors kept married people together - which seems fubar to me.)

I would think that before all marriages or even engagements take place - simple exercises ought to be taken which address 1. Mutual Respect, 2. Amicable Conflict Resolution, 3. Intolerable individual Traits and Practices - my, that was a mouthful.

Marriage is after all more than just a love affair - its a partnership - you're working together to build up a relationship - eventually - a family/children - will come into this relationship. But if the core values of the partners are not right - its going to be a short and bitter journey.

Here's something I made up just then:

By the shores of the water we walk
Hand in hand
As the sun sets, so we bid farewell to our past lives
Let us greet the sunrise, this New Day, not as individuals with our own separate plans
But together as one, heart and soul, body and mind, devoted to one another
Caring not for our own selves but for each other.
Hand in Hand, Heart to heart
Our Destinies Entwined
We greet the faint rays of the Morning dawn as One
My Love, hold me close.

I think the essence of a successful marriage or just a good relationship starts off with good communication and respect. Treasure such friendships. They are Gold.

The Old House - a short story

It happened in the evening as I was walking in the garden with my friend Sarah. The roses and lavender were in full bloom. It was sunset, and the sun had bled the sky a fiery red crimson. We stood in respectful silence and watched, and enjoying the moment together.

We walked back to the grand house, that red brick fortress of tranquility. The land had been in my family since the 1930s. It wasn't just a home - it was an heirloom with soul. The hard edge tiles of the slate grey roof was covered with paleolithic lichen. The front teak door still bears the marks the harsh scars of a Japanese soldier's rifle. Walking inside you'll first feel the sleek dark hardwood flooring cut from ancient mammoth trees in Borneo, then walk upon the Boukara Persian carpet given by a Prince from Mecca before gazing upon that fabulous Turquoise mosaic fresco that grandfather ordered from Jaipur.

And then I saw him, standing by the stained glass windows of the attic. The translucent teal colored glass almost hid him. But there he stood. Unmistakable. Arms akimbo - as imposing as Raffles' statue. Surprisingly, Sarah saw him too. "Who is that? She whispered. I didn't know we were having guests."
"That's not a guest.  ... That's my father."
"But I thought he was dead."
"Yes, he was. 10 years ago."
"Then...?????!!!!!????" Her brown eyes widen in disbelief and horror.
"Yes. Then." I replied. I'm not sure why. But I didn't seem surprised. Oh, he's back, the thought ran through my head.

I quicken my pace and walked straight up to the attic. Sarah, with a great deal of vocal trepidation, followed closely behind. She didn't want to go. I told her to wait downstairs - but she didn't want to be alone; she was terrified now of every little sound the old house with its teak flooring made. I told her to make up her mind without due care.
She was about to launch into a tantrum  but terror swallowed her wounded feelings as I raced upstairs. She gripped my hand tightly like a frighten child.
"I guess you don't want to be alone." I teased.
"Shudup." She snarled.
I wisely did.
The wooden staircase leading to the attic creaked and groaned like a grumbly old Cantonese amah woken up too early to do a morning chore. Dust from eons of neglect rose up to greet us. Here and there a frightful spider scampered.
I pushed aside the old European oil paintings (kept there because they upset my Grandfather's superstitious 2nd wife) - brushed away the cobwebs. Light from the dying sun gently glimmered against the stained glass windows where my father stood. But he was not there.
An unfathomable spasm of fear gripped me all of a sudden. Did it just get so cold??? It smothered my desire to call out to my father. What would happen if he actually appeared? Would he look like Obi-wan Kenobi and talk to me about some crazy secret like... "There is another Skywalker." Nutty thoughts were making a Bangkok traffic jam in my brain.
I walked deliberately and slowly to the window. And gingerly stood in the same place my father's ghost had stood. How bizarre. How utterly bizarre. Surely we weren't dreaming this up. I looked out. My God what a view. You could see the whole estate from here. The sun gleamed molten gold as it disappeared behind the horizon. Now why? Why here?
Sarah was the first to notice it. "Oh Look. A pretty wooden box", she said. Her eye for beautiful objects had overcame her misgivings at following me up this dark loft.
It was under the window, by the wall. It was very, very old. And it had been sitting there waiting for me for the longest time.

(This is a fictional story)

Counting Sand - 2010

If I could
I'd cross the sea
on Albatross wings
Flying like Icarus
I'd touch the Sun
Then Crash into the Sea
And stay there for a thousand years
Living in a sea shell on the Ocean Floor
I'd count time by Ocean rhymn
And whisper conversations to the Seahorse
When it is The Day to make amends
And account of all I've done
I'd point to the counting sand and say
My work has barely begun.

YMC 17th November 2010

I met a Muse back in May

I met a Muse back in the Month of May
She caused my heart to sing in a wondrous way
It grew wings and flew and soared
But my delight terrified her
So she ran away.


Like Icarus I came too close to the sun
I felt the heat it kept me warm
But like a fool I flew closer.

For a moment my feet were not bound to clay
For a brief moment I touched the sun's rays
Briefly.
And now she's gone.

I wish I didn't like her so much
I wish she irritated the hell out of me
I wish her voice, her laughter, her sheer presence annoyed me instead of bringing me delight.
I wish that I had not grown to like her pretty face
I wish her presence didn't give me increasing joy
I wish she had given me another chance
I wish she would come back to me

But like a moth clawing at the flame
You know the answer
It is always the same.

 YMC Monday 24th August 2013.3rd draft.

My name is Calypso

My name is Calypso
And I walk here all alone
Along this sea shore
My feet mark the sand
Shortly erased by an unseen hand
I walk towards the rays of Dawn
I never look back.
Yauming  Chiam 2012. 

(I took this photo of my niece in 2012) 

Inspiration by Suzanne Vega 

Together

I wrote this poem back in the Winter of 1991.

It was a wet and cold winter. It rained so much. I had to catch public transport to Uni - took me sometimes like 2 hours to get to school. Made worse by the cold wet winter weather.

While I was waiting for the bus at the Heidelberg train station, standing in the rain, I saw a pile of brown leaves caught near a drainage hole. And this came to me:


Leaves scattered on the ground
Spent, their time past
They live out their dying moments
Withering on the ground
Gathered in small piles as if to comfort each other of their fate
They live and die
Together.

Heidelberg, Victoria 1991.

The Onsen at Dinner Plain, Mt Hotham July 2013

Snowflakes falling around me from the night sky
whirling, indifferently
passing by like strangers in a crowd.
Its beautiful but I don't feel a thing
A wind blows through
And a white mist manifests itself from the pool
like a phantom it rises and the wind carries it away
I look up and glimpse a star
The snow flakes continue to fall incessantly, silently
A few land on my face and turn to water
I gaze skywards as they run off.

A Book Lover

Date a literary girl
And she will take you to places you've never been.
Make love to a girl who reads.
A girl who says she loves your library more than you :)
Kiss her on the lips
As she reads intently from some obscure foreign novel
Watch her as she browses through your collection
Get excited as her fingers touches your books
Because nothing is more delightful
Nothing in the world could be more wonderful
Than a girl who loves my books.
YMC July 2013.

Love is the leap of faith we take like an acrobat

Love is the leap of faith we take. Like a trapeze acrobat jumping off a platform into the darkness. Not knowing for certain 100% whether his partner will meet him midair to

help catch him. Because the other option is staying on the platform, safe, comfortable and alone - which is good too but not even half as fun. YMC 19th July.

The Moment has come

Now the moment has come
To put the past behind
To put down our baggage of stored junk
To throw it - dump it - discard - destroy
And to leave it behind.
Walk away
Walk away now
That is nothing left for you to take
Do not be left behind
Remove all the things that hinder you
That threaten to drown you
That bind you
That shackle you
Walk Run Escape
You can't do that carrying the past behind.

Walk Away with Me

The road is long
My burden is heavy
I pray but I'm talking to the air
The ancient map we have is flawed
It makes no sense

But my bitter companions push on
I walk in silence afraid to speak
My complaints are answered with platitudes
It makes no sense

I close my eyes but the questions never stop muttering
We took a wrong turn again
But they do not stop
I try and argue but they laugh; is this a joke?
It makes no sense

I cannot go on.
I cannot.
Then as we pass a shadowy overhang
I slip away.
And find you

Take me away you say.
Walk with me in this field of green
Hold my hand
And share the sunset with me

I feel you close to my heart
But you look away with a smile.
You look beautiful in the twilight my love
But you already knew that.

Yauming Chiam June 2013

I'm fed of going to churches where they preach a gospel so devoid of life and bear no relation at all to the real world. I'm fed of going to churches where they seem to be brain dead and spouting biblical cliches as truths. I wrote this poem because of this new realization - that I don't want to go to a church which worships tradition and a book over a real God.

Bridging the Sea of Tears Draft 2

Some place far and foreign my lover sleeps
She dreams, she dreams
An unfathomable sea separate us
I stand on a distant shore and wonder

Is she lying, is she rising, is she weeping the
tears which fill that sea?
Is she crying? is she mourning?
for the death of her dream?

Can I help her? Can I comfort her?
Does it matter what I say
To a strange lovely girl I met one fateful day.
And took a fancy to in a special way



From my shore littered with grey shingles
Tormented by a cold scathing wind
I am hurling the pebbles into that dark grey sea
Trying to bridge that salty body of water.
A naive boy thinking he can fill up that saline chasm
with pebbles...
with small pebbles he gathered from his beach.
What a silly boy to dream.

 Yauming Chiam July/September, 2013

A work in progress. Still not happy about the 2nd last part.

Niue

If you are free
Come!
Come with me across the South Pacific Sea
To a faraway isle
Where dolphins roam free
And whales are on sight from the land
Drown our sorrows
Wash away our tears
Let us not bring our past into Niue

By my balcony

A moment in time,
A touch of your hand
A side smile.
Your eyes gaze back dreamily into the distance
On my balcony.

Another time another place
Another man another place
A different life A different face
All a distant memory
History

Ancient History
What matters it now (to me)?
when you are here

On my balcony.
Chiam Yauming June 2013

***
SJ came today - and there she lingered by the back balcony next to the laundry. She seemed mesmerized by the view for some reason. I asked whether she liked me and she replied - I like your place more in that cavalier tone of hers. I affected scorn at her jest but secretly I hoped that she could stay longer.

She sets

SJ
She lingers for awhile.
Then I feel her gaze drift.
Her boredom is palatable.
I coax her but it is useless.
She must leave.

And Darkness descends.
It is dusk.

Chiam Yauming June 2013

SJ came to my place. And she typed her name on my antique typewriter. I like her but I'm afraid the feeling is not mutual.

In this dishearten mood I wrote this poem underneath her name using the same sheet of paper.

I just hammered it out. It was probably evening time when I typed it out. I showed it her and she took it home and smiled somewhat bemused. We've not spoke for awhile. I wonder whether she still has it or has thrown it away.

The Marlin, Layang Layang May 2012

I took this photo of a Marlin fish off Layang Layang Island in May 2012. The sight of its luminous electric blue tail in the deep will grace my dreams til the day I die.

I swim the deep blue
At depths unknown to man
I am wild I am free
You will not get close to me.

Morning 25th June 2013

(I sent this to her via a text message. Just wanted to see her again. She liked it it seems as she came shortly after.)

To SJ

Give me your peace for a moment in the day. 

Let me slumber in the presence of your grace. 

Wait for me as I idle and draw a smile upon my face.

  Chiam Yau-ming, Singapore, copyright 25-6-2013