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

The books i gave to her out of affection are torn

I gave her the books out of my affection for her
Red leather bound, vintage
Musty, old
But in such good condition like yours truly
I smile when I recall her look of amazement when I gave them to her
At one time I thought she was attracted to me
But like a cold sweet morning mist her favor that held so much promise has vanished
And I feel the searing heat of the a midday's indifference.

I asked her about the books the other day
and her reply was that she was with her boyfriend!

! The Fuck.

any other reply would have been more preferable
Much more.
Fucking anything

Like...
"I'm sorry I haven't had the time to read them yet"
"Yes they were really nice but I'm awfully busy am have only read a page or too"

or "Sorry no time lah, sweetie"

even a cool ambiguous reply would have suffice, " Yeah, later dude"

Tell me some sweet lie
or simple dead silence

Silence would have been preferable
then I can guess and wait
I can imagine

Is it wrong to feel this way?
to feel the need to be loved or cherished?
to be held in affection?

But if at a door I see a lady approach
I will open it for her and perform the courtesies.


I should know if I wanted appreciation or applause I should have joined the circus.

Coldness

I wrote this poem on my balcony in Singapore back in 1990 when I was doing my national service in the army. There was this beautiful girl who was my next-door neighbor. We went out a couple of times. She seemed to like me but there was someone else that held her attention.

Once during a rain shower I saw her run outside merrily in that carefree girlish manner of hers and play a game of badminton with her much younger sister.

I remember the smile on YN's face.

At that time, well even now, I was infatuated with her. I did go out with her a couple of times. But I was too socially awkward to make a favorable impression - plus she was a bit of a tease and I had major difficulties listening to her soft spoken voice.

But for a boy that spend 3 years in an all-boy boarding school - followed by 2 years in the army - seeing her - going out her - and even having her rest on my bed (nothing happened) was one of the painful and overwhelming highlights of my life.


Something within me yields
Seeing you playing in the rain.
I long to join you
but behind pained glass I stand
Contemplating thinking
Murmurings within my soul
I don't know what to say to you.

Love you?
I don't know
Yet I feel something
And something within me yields
Watching you in the rain

I feel, I feel a longing to fill this coldness
in my soul with you
And to join you playing in the rain

but I know it can never be
With your cold eyes and indifferent smile
I can gauge and tell that all I can ever do
Is to watch you playing in the rain

Now I hear your footsteps
Outside my door
Shuffling, quietly
You turn the key and slam your door

But your laughter, your giggling
In whose arms are you love making?
I hear it, I hear it all
And gently
Gently accept the coldness in my soul.
CYM 1990

Return of a friend

I wrote this a year ago. A friend was traveling to the former French Indochina - and I was worried about her.

Casually I wrote this:

Sun, dawn, Sky, rain
Bring my friend back to me again

She eventually returned but not as my friend.