sketch

he swings across the monkey bars, briefcase in hand. plastic poles and rubber mats greet him as he jumps down to reach the ground. the mid-morning sun chuckles at the breeze tossing his hair askew. panting and wheezing, he rushes about from place to place. "i'm late, i'm late", he says frantically, frowning and glancing at his watch. running past me at top speed, he barely stops to say a quick hello before hurrying off for his next appointment with the slide. as i look on curiously, the playground suddenly bursts into real life.

I Wonder

i wonder
what they do
those who live
oceans away
on that continent
of the american dream

their sources
tell us much
of pop and rock
and daily fast food
the hollywood culture
bimbotic and cut throat

their schools
are they concerned
with only social lives
directionless youths
drugs and immorality
fat, dumb and pretty
in killer cliques

but what
should we know
of such cultures,
but biasedly through
their own influence
of global domination

/"Where is everyone?" he wondered. "Gone. Wouldn' come back if they could 'elp it," came the reply. "Gone where?"
"Can't tell fer sure. All I been told is they're jes to damn busy"
"Busy... but isn't everyone busy?"
"Yer askin' me? I'm purty sure yer already got yer answer boy..."
"Then what do I do? There's nobody else except me here..."
" 'Ell.. you kin do anythin' yer like... Take it over fer instance..."
"Yes of course, of course... You're absolutely correct... they won't be coming back either..."
"Jes offerin' mah 'umble advice kid. Ain't no need ta git worked up neither... 'Take it cool', I says. 'Jes one small step at a time' I thinks...'"

New Orleans

As the bad news trickled in
Many heard and many wondered
Of this place called New Orleans –
How? How could it have been,
That as the waters filled the streets,
The caveman came to New Orleans?

Through the flooded streets he led
Telling of how they would survive;
“Fend for yourself like I -” he said
“Follow heart and feel no mind.”
And as mortal desire and instinct grew
They exposed the true mankind

Many years he must have travelled
To take his place amid the floods
Revealing the modern man unravelled
And what lay under flesh and blood...

/used this as half a response for my reading portfolio article on the disaster in new orleans... go look for it on www.iht.com... "In the Big Easy, inured to the macabre"...

the storm of 9 and 12

it was on that september night
that i wished for cool [and sleepy] evening -
and on that year of twenty,oh and five
did silent nature reply in full

for a good forty the black sky raged;
it was a storm unseen.
a tempest to challenge Lear's;
it was a wrath unleashed.

the anger writhed among squeaking men
and dried in cries of anguish

the lightning flickered like broken lights
and deafened with blinding flashes

the thunder pounded and roared
and shook the feeble walls

but as it began, it came to end
and cool rain flooded in
upon the sweating blocks it swept
and redeemed my dreamy wishes

/spammation. they say thunder and lightning storms don't last for more than half and hour... if that is so... what on earth was that last night?

fields of fun

[oh my eyes!
how sore they are
but, as I close them now
to retreat and rest,
I dream of my fields of fun]

Under green trees and sun
Where we play and we run
And our work is undone -
These are our fields of fun

/i've done about 3 poems over the past two days. must get them up. this was one that i did in class today... just scribbled it down... i found it quite hard to connect the two stanzas.. so perhaps i should simply use the last verse alone... it came from a one-liner i thought of a few months ago - "in our fields of fun"... oh well... bah i disagreed with royce over the content of a recent post.. but i guess i should just accept his form of artistic expression...

charcoalfactory worker

woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel
woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel
woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel

woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel
woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel
woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel

woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel
woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel
woodchuckshovelshovel woodchop throwinshovel

how to grab attention

.SEX.

sketch

dawn filters herself into my morning coffee, as she tenderly fingers the flowers sitting on the windowsill. downstairs, buses and taxis horn impatiently as they wait for her to get on. she sighs, clearing her throat in the morning exhuast. the kettle whistles merrily as she steps out of the shower, soft light like trinklets down her hair. dripping wet with dew, she peers shyly out from the shower curtains. i rub bedclothes and sleep out of my eyes, straining for a second look - but she's hidden herself back in the shadow, a half-smile hanging from her lips. before i can say a word, she slips away, out into the morning hustle.

an ubin eagle

it was a stormy afternoon one day
[that] i saw a bellied eagle -
black shape upon a sky so grey
t'was the soaring regal

"where go'est thou, dear feathered friend?"
i asked the misty wind
"what do'st thou in day so dark
that stirs your feathered kin'[d]?"

[as spray dash'd acros't the rocking boat,
he set on hanging branch
and swung great wings to keep afloat
'gainst the mighty *wind

yet amidst the sweeping, whisp'ring gale
the eagle watched in silence
as clouds rained noise and watered hail
said he nothing 'til mine absence

and hence he took to outstretched wing
and flew away on waves that sing]

/i saw a couple sea eagles on the bumboat to ubin for the dreaded and now over npcc atc. black things soaring in the distance. poor things, cos the weather was really very unpleasant...this actually wasn't the original poem that came to me, i think it was lost in the three days of boredom and sleep-deprivation... not really very happy with it... esp. the latter 3 stanzas or are they verses (?) whatever they are anyway.. would someone like to help me compose another ending? or continue the poem from after the second verse?