Alone she puffs
uncertain future
alone she puffs
smoke covers her face
trails the night air
she hides behind
each night under
an inch of powder
lips coloured like roses
the night aids
accompanies
her cameleon existence
satisfying loners
groping in beds
that witness sea and sea
of swirling passion
shuttling between
excited real and
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Snake
snakes, scaly, slippery, a cold lump morbidly crawling
through the dark tunnel of memory
some creatures are born cursed
they are spat, and trumpled on
so that the nerves slithered when i actually
came face to face with one at two or three
the black six inch long they called two headed thing
propped my interest further
you dont get to see one often
i could not remember whether it had ended up
under somebody's stick or a parang
but thanks to the snake it helped me
hold onto a figment otherwise
would have been lost on the tail of time
an inert lump resting on cold yellow soil
guilty heavy of heaven and earth
all ready to take the cold and
inhumane blows of the world
once in while a little one would surface
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ode to the butterflies
the butterflies dart through space
some in measured grace
some in zig zag frenzy
some carrying wings too small
to take the weight of their body
up and down, up and down
they flit, flit-flitting a burdensome dance
some are in pairs and in
such obvious romance outing
they sprint to each other
head and tail, tail and head
frolic and merry make
an ubiquitous love dazed flight
charging up the season
nature lavishes such wholesome indulgences
over such fragile creatures
exquisite tender wears topped
with an equally edifying elixir of life
divinely blessed, proffered
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ode to the Wind 2
i am wind i caress
every skin i fall on
i float with the tide
and dance with the moon
as we glide over the sea
the waves sweep us on a silver path
serenade us the lustre of the moment
the moon shivers, i twirl, the trees rustle,
clouds part to give us way to a crescendo of fun
everytime i am around, the feet of the universe
spring to action, things dance, and i dance too
spreading a joie de vivre
i am a vagabond of the wildest kind
a gypsy, a tramp, a born traveller
holding a carte blanche to everywhere
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Shopping Trail
she purrs; 'tea sir, please try
this tea. it is good for health,
japanese tea' so gentle, articulate
and musical to the ears, i thought
somebody should make her a secretary
she would be any office's perfect tea,
flowing with her grace and charm
'sir, sir, mastercard, here are
the free gifts- sport cars model.
lifetime free credit cards. here the gifts.
please sign up. i need some
commission for the Chinese
new year.' so truthful the boy
i thought he would be better off
a priest. signing up just so that
he can get some commission?
he's too truthful to be good for anything
free membership but one only knows
what a credit card means when the
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Life (inspired by Charlotte Bronte)
life is like the sea
that reverberates with the waves
in the calm of morn, in the first light
when a breeze freshens up
every cell, builds up
tiny waves the way ink brush
creates ripples in water
the painter dips into
for his next masterpiece
spring of life - childhood
who every minute seeks
a new adventure sweet or sour
happenings that would spring up
from the mighty ocean of the mind
in later years for a poem or two
life is like the sea
when the strong wind
begins to show its force
unfurling the massive calm
which this morning
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ode to the Earth
poetry in progress
the way you spin a game
of success on the theory
of ying yang, ever since you
took hold of the sky in your
winning azure blue and rich
potato brown you have sprung
so many surprises on us
as you twirl, you amaze
and unwittingly win
unrestrained applause
you hold onto the day
and night so dutifully
and evenly to unveil to
us the presents and
blessings of time
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A riddle song
all the things around me
living and non living
the clouds, plants
a test to locate the real self?
the grass reflects me to me
a test something somewhere
puts me into
manoevring me in his hands
the grass, the clouds,
his parts for a part of me
in his strange game
to find a solution beyond
my comprehension
a million star times
i am not equipped with means
to say i am lost
only he knows wherefore
i am leading to
whether this heart that beats
beating
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Written on a Summer Evening
this melancholy dusk
as the rain falls into night
ever so softly
the breath of a dying woman
this bonechilling wind
trails the air
the darkened roofs
of the malay houses
add a solemnness to the place
filled with flowers
fruit trees, wild trees
a koranic verse is heard
and another cool breeze blows
the leaves rustle
the way a man shivers
big leaves, small leaves
twirl in succession
a twist dance
so cold the night
the old woman
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Butterflies
women are like butterflies
dad always said
when he was alive
oh how true that is
mom, sisters, aunties,
they are all butterflies
with colourful stories
to tell of their love
and alluring attire
as they dance out
the steps of life
fly in and out of days
gathering memories
golden, sweet, light
and fluid as honey
kisses, presents, flowers and all
cupboards full of cotton, silk, crepe,
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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