I said to Love
my love,
my love for you
is like the land
beneath your feet
if you want a comparison
forever supporting you
in life, in death
i take the wind, the rain, storm
in my stride
for your cause
honouring you
with blooms, roses, irises, clovers
crocuses, flowers of delight
to cheer up your heart
fruits of all shapes and colours
to brighten up your day
my love,
my love for you
is like the land
till me, graze me
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Asian Gold - Sari, Cheongsam and Kimono
Saris, they hold on to you
lady, like ruby, making you
one bastion of womanhood
as you walk sultrily down
the street, carrying the weight
of India's savoir-faire round
your belly and hip, your shawl
my heart, cruising and frolicking
all the way to the temple
they are a wear inspired by
the Gods, Shiva, Krishna,
Brahma, Laskmi and Saraswati
they flow with grace like angels
and they hold on to you like
an altar fit for the abode of the Divine
and when you set your body to dance
the Sari is all heavenly grace
swirling and twirling the world
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Again and Again
poetry in progress
childhood days are roses and thorns
they comprise memories light as
the roll of one marble as well as
heavy as a bag full of the blue white
gleaming rolly pollies sitting so
quietly in the old store room
childhood is full of schemes
marbles - we made sure the other boys
are emptied of theirs
kites - we made sure the string of
their kites snap, kite flying away
like a helpless chinese princess
pigeons - one was downed by us so that
its mate waited for it one whole day
on the precipice of a roof
one memory i wish to tear to shreds
dragonflies - in my hands they ate
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Where the Sidewalk Ends
where the sidewalk ends
now a nursery school stands
it slowly quietly comes alive at morn
the gentleness of a breeze as
children with their bags on their backs
walk, run into their classrooms
after the first light of morn
where the sidewalk ends
now a nursery school stands
it quietens down at the last light of dusk
the gentleness of a breeze
as children leave and go happy that they
have fulfilled mom's and dad's wishes
and learnt a few rudimentary words and grammar
their laughters and cheers as they leave
echo those in the lane of my memory
- a few young boys and girls swarming round
a mango tree shaking for its last mango
it had missed my friends and dropped right on my left eye
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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By Candlelight
the real child comes out
in the dark
little creatures
run all over the wall
by the candle
the children scream, laugh
trying to outdo each other
the flickering light
that makes their dream
come true
dogs, cats and mouse
large and small
all over the wall
the children yelp, meow
jump in delight
our fine children
cast light on us
about their world
in that one blackout
animals we thought should
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Real Fengshui
his door faced the bend of a bridge
they told him that would bend his luck, so
he had the door torn down and bore through
a wall for a new door, one that faces
the Sun well for the sunshine of life
her door opened to the sharp edge
of a building she thought was the
inauspcious razor that had slashed
her chances in life, so with much incisive
belittlements of her neighbours,
she hung a ba kua mirror to throw back
what she thought should be theirs to keep
another one with the same predicarment
bought a large cannon to aim it at the poison arrow
she thought would overpower the bad influences
one man tore down a whole house
spending a few hundred thousands on
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Spirit of Love - The Little Crustacean
transparent, white
but the lines distinct
the little crustacean
the little prawn
so little it touches
the softest spot of my heart
throw it back
throw it back
the world screams to me
in each successive wave
the breeze soothes
my ruffled feeling
halcyon day
everything peaceful, calm
the little prawn
waves to me
as i take a look
at it again
wanting to be my friend?
its life and death
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Little Women
little women of my childhood gravel lane,
fill out a part of my memory of
linked-wooden houses built on stilts.
their crowning glories still so vivid;
how they flipped like a pendulum from
shoulder to shoulder as they ran;
those different-styled hair
each carving a story and character in
my own little women world;
straight, graceful tresses,
shoulder-length lioness-styled crown,
and their varied-toned skins;
fair, dark, palsy so many different shades
in one family, it's a wonder how genes work.
all these differences held tight by a love
that flowed so abundantly from shy mom and salt fish market businessman dad.
how they had run helter skelter
from their games of rope jumping, hide and seek, hopscotch, ....
for home when they saw daddy
strolling home with his straw basket round his elbow, the dollars and cents of the day to get the family runnning.
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Prayer in Spring
the universe
flows through the man
a minscule of
all creations
a volcano
seethes beneath
a calm demeanor
the krakatoa
that never announced
its blast
lava and all
the anger
that seethes, it burns
through the man
the tempest
the wind, the thunder,
the lightning
that sweeps through the land
the dowager throws her tantrums
a whole army of men beheaded
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Remembering Roald Dahl - The Pig
firecrackers
were noisier
than the hosts
the pigs when
they were ushered
in three days ago
well, the crackers
since they were
invented were
to frighten away
the nien monster that
came plaguing
villagers every year
and their job is
to be loud to -
drown out the old year
and rock in the new
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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