callous words

like the spines of a prickly pear

knife-edge sharp

and the power to sting,

a gutting slice

a shameful blow

my face stains hot.

such poison.

a little sumfin' sumfin'

http://thoughtmagazine.wordpress.com/

my dear friend Adelene Lai has the most distinctive writing style ever. i could smell her pen ink from a mile away. and what's more she is an absolutely brilliant writer. i do wish she would blog more because her posts are so refreshingly witty and, more importantly, so frank and raw.

i always wanted to write with a style of my own. and i think Ade's writing has somewhat influenced my writing to try and win a niche of its own. i think it already has a style, if i'm not mistaken. and anyway, nothing CAN'T have a style, if we really think about it. right? any piece of writing that exists must certainly have a style, whether it be boring or interesting, most readable or most distasteful...

so yes. i hope i can start writing something substantial and word-worthy real soon. i received a recent email from Ade asking me to help spread the word about this new collection of short stories, articles and other random bits and bobs from the youths of KL (i hope i still qualify for this even though i now live in Adelaide) called Thought Magazine. you can go to the URL above and download the PDF; it won't take long.

to be honest, i skimmed past the first few stories and articles because, and i'm sorry for this but really, war-related matters really don't interest me much, especially the first one which i felt went a little overboard with the extravagantly descriptive sentences. is it just me? i don't know. perhaps i was all too eager to find Ade's article and read it. i did have a look at the artwork and some photos, though, being the visual person that i am.

words don't come easy to me. HONESTLY, they don't.

but i'm looking to improve this.

Penang

and here's another poem i wrote slightly more than a year ago... it was probably inspired by Isobel Dixon's "Plenty" which was one of my favourite poems from the "Songs of Ourselves" anthology we studied for IGCSE. "Plenty" is an amazing poem which really draws us a picture of the kind of world the poet was living in, and i feel that my own poem really does convey the appropriate imagery that allows one a peek into the world of my childhood.... i only spent an average of a month a year in my grandmother's house in Penang, and yet, some of my happiest memories stem from there... as i grow up, it gets harder to enjoy the liberty of staying at Ah-Ma's house. nonetheless, i hope to visit there every year... =)

just to let you know, my mum thought it was good and thus shared it with my dad and my brother. BAD IDEA.

my brother came up with a parody poem talking about his addiction to computer games while my dad complained that my poem didn't rhyme and thus couldn't be considered a poem... =_=

Penang

a resonating warmth greets my toes,
as I splash tap water
to bathe my dusty feet.

as I wash,
the pail is beautiful
and familiar in my hands,
and it smiles at me.

in the house,
every room smells of memories,
blankets, and the spin of the fan,
soothing the simmering heat.
an ancient clock ticks
to sound the passing of an age,
that flew
without us knowing.

and as the house swells with
laughter and tears,
the hands of the clock
refuse to turn back,
and buy us a little more nighttime.

but no matter how fast,
or how cruelly, dawn comes,
the pitter-patter of feet,
and the crunch of a biscuit,
and the taste of burning incense
will not cease to resound,
upon the ceramic walls of my
lost childhood.

sentiments.

here's a poem i wrote a long time ago... it used to be about a real experience that i had but obviously it's in the past now, so this poem just serves as a memory. i quite like the poem.. heh heh... it gets a bit emo at the end but that really wasn't my intention... i just kind of didn't know how to end the poem... =P

today
i bought a doll
with bubbled cheeks
and silken lips
and hair like dust in sunshine.

clothed in plain cotton
smudges on its shoes
and its soul
shined through its porcelain eyes.

we play together
like friends from birth
soul mates
siblings
lovers.

today
i bought a new doll
with eyes like mating butterflies
and a head of black velvet
rosy cheeks and rouged lips.

clothed in white silk
and a hat of ribbon
a secret smile
dances across its face.

and we play together
like strangers on a park bench
with nervous flutters
of our lashes.

but i think of my first doll
the doll i first loved
lying somewhere, unattended
lonely
vulnerable.

and i weep.

essay.

come on, my lovely words.
flow
i beg you.

i know i don't see you
as often as i probably should.

why the coldness?
why the cruel refusal to
fill my mind?

my hands shake
and bright dots
form before my eyes
signs of this new madness.

please.

please appear.