Sunday, September 23, 2012

The purpose of crossing roads


Crossing Roads

Men, women, school children stand on the curb, occupied, connected universally in 2G/3G/4G networks.

eyes side-glancing                                  On
                                                             the red
                                                              m   an

         contradicting a world in constant motion
         that cannot afford to stop&wait, and give

How many minutes of our lives are spent waiting for the go-sign
that finally lets us GO under the begrudging stares of drivers
who failed to make it and who must now STOP for us.
                             Practice that smug, practice hiding delight.

Or better
         just ignore them all and keep
         your eyes on your glass.

A wh


                                             Wild BOAR

has taken to following
traffic rules

briskly makes a bee-line
                           for the park, diagonal
                                                                 the yellow-box junction

                                          taking a shortcut
                             like humans
with no time to waste

                                   to reach the grove
                                   of jambu trees,
                                   to dine on sweet fruit
                                   ripe and fallen.


Posted for dVerse Poetics. Karin Gustafson (ManicDDaily) is hosting. The theme today is the unexpected.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Template-based living



The habit of filling-in ______
leaves ______.

The ease of lifting ready-made

              para _____________
__________________ graphs,

replacing details, double-checked
based on paper-based identity;

filling in [][][][][] [][][][][][]
(dd/mm/yyyy) sincerely, sworn
true with original signature.

It's when someone asks you
to tell it in your own words,

                            your story,
all of it,
not just filling in the ______,

that the weight of hesitation,
and doubt pauses your pen.


Posted to Open Link Night Week 62 at dVerse Poets Pub.

If this is your last stop, visit another five more. Cheers!

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Reasons for tears are often more than of joy or sorrow


The First Good Cry

Never again to feel the sharp bite of rattan on the skin of legs;
never again to trigger a roar of rage, a fiery wind howling guilt
and awful shame as pencil cases get thrown out the window
or watch books flung against walls for failures underlined

in red.

In the embrace of my mother and my father's sister, I cried
freely, free
for once; no one told me to hush,
no one told me to stop crying,
for once, it was alright to cry
audibly, shamelessly.

"Mercy, all will be alright." was all
his sister could say. "Poor thing."

Mother wept; I'm not sure if she was sorry for me
or for hardships she saw lying ahead. Surely,
she wouldn't miss him after the many times
she had thought to leave, only to stay out of duty
to a daughter and a husband -- a man with a rage
always at his throat, a rage that grew

into a cancer that ate him at the neck;

the mercy... I cried, I think,
out of relief.


Posted for DVerse Poetics - First Times. Hosted by Fred Rutherford. :)