what is life?
it's to be lived with a capital L.
it's about exploring, experiencing, enjoying.
it's about laughing heartily, uproariously even,
(because a sense of humour never goes wrong,
not even when you're lying on the hospital bed,
kept away in the CCU,
tubes and needles sticking in your veins,
you're cracking a joke about 'strawberry juice'
after they've given you 1 pint of blood)
it's about crying out your soul,
(because tears refresh and cleanse,
and ensure that you don't carry too much
of the wounds with you;
besides, the soul would have no rainbows
had the eye no tears)
it's about trying new things,
not being afraid of risks and making mistakes
(because all of us do slip up
and if you've gotten lost
take heart and keep going
and the next time, you'll remember
to either get some impressions
or carry a good map)
it's about embracing all
good bad ugly.
it's God's greatest gift to you after all. you're alive. Smile!
Showing posts with label prose poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prose poems. Show all posts
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Monday, May 05, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
apologise / indicative
the words 'i'm sorry' trip off your lips for what must be the hundredth time. so easy, so light - if only because you honestly believe that you're sorry for just existing and everything else serves to confirm it. sorry that you take up air some other more worthy soul should be inhaling as they go about being better people than you could ever dream of being.
you're you. nobody should have to prove they are worthy to live. so if you don't know how to do up your shoelaces or you take forever to decide what to eat or you're confused and sad, you're still you and that means something. that you're part of this great mass of human beings who live, eat, breathe and are strong, weak, happy, sad all at the same time.
don't be sorry for belonging. hold your head up, the sky is still blue and waiting for you to look the clouds in the eye and to walk on.
***
the threads that bind people together,
the undercurrents that can drown,
tensions bubbling beneath -
the molten magma that roils under the placid lake
in the middle of the crater,
one glance, one look, the drop in tone and voice,
indicative.
***
you're you. nobody should have to prove they are worthy to live. so if you don't know how to do up your shoelaces or you take forever to decide what to eat or you're confused and sad, you're still you and that means something. that you're part of this great mass of human beings who live, eat, breathe and are strong, weak, happy, sad all at the same time.
don't be sorry for belonging. hold your head up, the sky is still blue and waiting for you to look the clouds in the eye and to walk on.
***
the threads that bind people together,
the undercurrents that can drown,
tensions bubbling beneath -
the molten magma that roils under the placid lake
in the middle of the crater,
one glance, one look, the drop in tone and voice,
indicative.
***
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
drink, to forget
drink, to forget,
the smooth taste of alcohol washes down
my throat, it burns.
i am on fire, but i want to put it out
so i take another gulp.
it's hard to forget those words.
it's hard to forget that smile.
but i want to forget. don't i? the throb in my heart, painful and real and ever close.
what the hell. why aren't i numbing up - i feel myself sinking into the sadness of something which should belong in the past.
then the colours come alive, so bright beautiful and vivid. everyone's so cheerful and their jokes are so funny, i can't help but laugh in spite of myself. i'm happy, after so long, I M FREAKING HAPPY.
my head starts to spin. my head hurts too. i want to sleep.
so i do. but not before my stomach heaves and i let out what i was holding in. did i cry? i must have laughed a lot, and the warmth i felt at first became an almost unbearable heat.
when the morning comes, mouth worn and dry - throat parched. i wake. i realise that the dull ache remains. and i wonder that i never learn. one more night in the limbo between dead dreams and live nightmares.
the smooth taste of alcohol washes down
my throat, it burns.
i am on fire, but i want to put it out
so i take another gulp.
it's hard to forget those words.
it's hard to forget that smile.
but i want to forget. don't i? the throb in my heart, painful and real and ever close.
what the hell. why aren't i numbing up - i feel myself sinking into the sadness of something which should belong in the past.
then the colours come alive, so bright beautiful and vivid. everyone's so cheerful and their jokes are so funny, i can't help but laugh in spite of myself. i'm happy, after so long, I M FREAKING HAPPY.
my head starts to spin. my head hurts too. i want to sleep.
so i do. but not before my stomach heaves and i let out what i was holding in. did i cry? i must have laughed a lot, and the warmth i felt at first became an almost unbearable heat.
when the morning comes, mouth worn and dry - throat parched. i wake. i realise that the dull ache remains. and i wonder that i never learn. one more night in the limbo between dead dreams and live nightmares.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
youth
to the young one,
youth is a time of skipping through the clouds, light and airy, padding across the white and blue range of sky, voice calling out, loud, ringing with life. you are alive, you know it and you want to feel and know and claim every patch of cloud and every corner of sky.
but no one tells you how the clouds have gaps through them. and you can fall. how far will you land then? and no one tells you about how the lightning streaks and thunder rumbles can turn the sky into a black mass. frightening and frightened, you retreat but where will you go?
keenly feeling, sensitive before time dulls and numbs your senses, you face up to the storms. and only the somewhat foolish thoughts that there is a way out keeps you going. to cut a way through the dark into the rays of the sun.
young one, you must know by now - the secret lies in crossing the clouds one at a time.
when the sun was out, you mocked the anchor. you said it held you down from where you should have been. but realise that as you rock from side to side, turbulent and disturbed, it keeps you whole.
and the pessimism, the cynicism of age cannot dim your light. this so even as you cross beyond the rainbow.
youth is a time of skipping through the clouds, light and airy, padding across the white and blue range of sky, voice calling out, loud, ringing with life. you are alive, you know it and you want to feel and know and claim every patch of cloud and every corner of sky.
but no one tells you how the clouds have gaps through them. and you can fall. how far will you land then? and no one tells you about how the lightning streaks and thunder rumbles can turn the sky into a black mass. frightening and frightened, you retreat but where will you go?
keenly feeling, sensitive before time dulls and numbs your senses, you face up to the storms. and only the somewhat foolish thoughts that there is a way out keeps you going. to cut a way through the dark into the rays of the sun.
young one, you must know by now - the secret lies in crossing the clouds one at a time.
when the sun was out, you mocked the anchor. you said it held you down from where you should have been. but realise that as you rock from side to side, turbulent and disturbed, it keeps you whole.
and the pessimism, the cynicism of age cannot dim your light. this so even as you cross beyond the rainbow.
Friday, November 23, 2007
the glass cage
the butterfly is flying, its wings beating against the hard, solid glass.
there is no escape. there is only the glass cage which encases it and in which its feeble wingflaps slowly come to rest.
it perceives the sun only as a distant ray, and the green of the trees and scarlet flowers mock it. all it knows is the clear prism of light which heightens, deepens the colours it sees but can never draw close to.
slower and slower its movements as it begins to feel life slowly seep out of its body.
perhaps it should fight against the lethargy that signals impending death.
perhaps it should continue flying.
perhaps it should go on living.
then someone unscrews the top of the jar. the butterfly is out. a single wingflap as it touches the wind it had never felt before. a single wingflap. the final wingflap.
there was never a choice, could it have come to value what it was given? when the fates have given unto it a beginning and an ending, a loop of despair and destruction.
there is no escape. there is only the glass cage which encases it and in which its feeble wingflaps slowly come to rest.
it perceives the sun only as a distant ray, and the green of the trees and scarlet flowers mock it. all it knows is the clear prism of light which heightens, deepens the colours it sees but can never draw close to.
slower and slower its movements as it begins to feel life slowly seep out of its body.
perhaps it should fight against the lethargy that signals impending death.
perhaps it should continue flying.
perhaps it should go on living.
then someone unscrews the top of the jar. the butterfly is out. a single wingflap as it touches the wind it had never felt before. a single wingflap. the final wingflap.
there was never a choice, could it have come to value what it was given? when the fates have given unto it a beginning and an ending, a loop of despair and destruction.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
bitter brew / the face of loneliness/ search and embrace
bitter brew, the Chinese tonic that builds up strength
and gives vitality. drink, consume, though it be difficult to down.
how often has it been that the most bitter experiences give us the most strength?
but the danger is always that you become embittered yourself.
***
in a crowded bar, through the smoke and music - she saw the face of loneliness.
so stark the dissatisfaction, a longing for more than this world could offer.
at the moment of creation, we are never told that our hearts and longings are boundless but our capacity limited.
so certain the emptiness of the soul. spirit so often ignored, and it arises with a vengeance, proving that it does indeed exist.
at the moment of creation, we are given spirit but we are never told that the spirit underscores all there is to life and to the world.
so dark the sorrow, unhidden beneath the painted smile and the face, fresh made up.
at the moment of creation, we are made to be true but we are never told that the world can never abide the truth.
***
there is a search. there is a journey.
what are you searching for?
where are you journeying to?
search and embrace those you have learned to love best, then.
and in the meantime, i ask myself the same questions.
and gives vitality. drink, consume, though it be difficult to down.
how often has it been that the most bitter experiences give us the most strength?
but the danger is always that you become embittered yourself.
***
in a crowded bar, through the smoke and music - she saw the face of loneliness.
so stark the dissatisfaction, a longing for more than this world could offer.
at the moment of creation, we are never told that our hearts and longings are boundless but our capacity limited.
so certain the emptiness of the soul. spirit so often ignored, and it arises with a vengeance, proving that it does indeed exist.
at the moment of creation, we are given spirit but we are never told that the spirit underscores all there is to life and to the world.
so dark the sorrow, unhidden beneath the painted smile and the face, fresh made up.
at the moment of creation, we are made to be true but we are never told that the world can never abide the truth.
***
there is a search. there is a journey.
what are you searching for?
where are you journeying to?
search and embrace those you have learned to love best, then.
and in the meantime, i ask myself the same questions.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
rewrite. wait for the last star
everyone's got to write their own love story - how it all began, how it all started. what and when you fell in love. and sometimes you just gotta rewrite it. especially when it didn't start out right.
you take out a pen, hoping to cross out the parts that hurt the most, but nothing's happening. the marks are there, the tear-streaks, the broken pieces of a heart that still beats. you ask yourself - why bother? but something tells you that it's worth the trouble. just one more time. you don't know why, you don't know how. but you know it is.
so you try again, this time you know that the chapter is closed. done. over with. nothing more left to add, but the story goes on. because the rewrite is working out after all, you can start a new chapter to the story.
in the midst of all that, you wonder, staring out into the night - you missed the first star, the one people wish on for happiness and for their dreams to come true. now you wait for the last star. people don't wish on the last star fading into the darkness. but you hope in the rays of the morning sun, you keep on waiting for the last star.
you take out a pen, hoping to cross out the parts that hurt the most, but nothing's happening. the marks are there, the tear-streaks, the broken pieces of a heart that still beats. you ask yourself - why bother? but something tells you that it's worth the trouble. just one more time. you don't know why, you don't know how. but you know it is.
so you try again, this time you know that the chapter is closed. done. over with. nothing more left to add, but the story goes on. because the rewrite is working out after all, you can start a new chapter to the story.
in the midst of all that, you wonder, staring out into the night - you missed the first star, the one people wish on for happiness and for their dreams to come true. now you wait for the last star. people don't wish on the last star fading into the darkness. but you hope in the rays of the morning sun, you keep on waiting for the last star.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
blending memory - a vision
the harsh fluorescent light gives way to nebulous glow, soft and gentle. is it possible to hear the voices from the past speak again, if only in your mind? blurring the border between memory and between the present, blending memory into a vision.
the vision is of home and you see your mother's face come up to you, and offers you food - you want to go to the places you know well, where you went as you were growing up. but this time you are an adult, you have grown and still home has a special place in your heart, distant never in dreams, only in the physical realm.
reaching out to thin air, you wonder why nothing is there. it was real then.
the vision is of home and you see your mother's face come up to you, and offers you food - you want to go to the places you know well, where you went as you were growing up. but this time you are an adult, you have grown and still home has a special place in your heart, distant never in dreams, only in the physical realm.
reaching out to thin air, you wonder why nothing is there. it was real then.
Friday, August 17, 2007
thinking, reviewing
still searching for an answer.
still searching for faith, hope, mostly love.
still wanting to hold on to what used to be, but it is futile.
tearing your eyes away from the subtle break between night and day,
when it seems heaven and earth merge into one,
you long for the promise that darkness always gives way to light,
you long for the assurance that your struggles are worth something,
you long for the rest that comes with knowing fate, and where you stand.
you long for so much, and you are only human.
how much of it is avarice? the grasping and discontented nature of man? how much of it is the poisonous and insidious envy, that threatens to turn your soul green?
you're not sure. so you're going to keep on trying to find for an answer. and in the process, learn to be happy and contented.
still searching for faith, hope, mostly love.
still wanting to hold on to what used to be, but it is futile.
tearing your eyes away from the subtle break between night and day,
when it seems heaven and earth merge into one,
you long for the promise that darkness always gives way to light,
you long for the assurance that your struggles are worth something,
you long for the rest that comes with knowing fate, and where you stand.
you long for so much, and you are only human.
how much of it is avarice? the grasping and discontented nature of man? how much of it is the poisonous and insidious envy, that threatens to turn your soul green?
you're not sure. so you're going to keep on trying to find for an answer. and in the process, learn to be happy and contented.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
backstage - part i
ladders, and boxes, and blocks of wood,
ropes and pulleys. the stagehands sit at the back, waiting for their cue.
a few huddle around, sharing a cigarette break, oblivious to the peremptory sign.
and the stage manager, his piercing glare takes them in, deepening into a scowl when he sees the cloud of smoke.
and one of the stagehands begins to think:
who gives a f***, anyway? looking at those buggers prance around on stage. not like they know how hard it is to heave these damned props around. Look! night turns into day! it's stormy weather! wow! and what do they do? ooh and aah over them in the stupid makeup and idiot clothes.
a flurry of activity, fading into almost a blur. it's almost time for the curtains to come up...hurry! hurry. push and pull. the levers. the cloth. the actors taking their positions. the prompt reader looks a bit apologetic, and she gives a nervous smile.
and the stagehands, it's time for them to come out.
again, and again. why do i do this? stubbed out a cigarette. the ropes come up.
wait a minute. isn't Harry supposed to be the one to set this up? damn that bastard! he's off flirting with that chorus girl. stupid f***ers!
and then it's lights, camera, action! another day in the wonderful, exciting life of Joseph Brown, stagehand extraordinaire...
alright i m done. i let go of the rope. and then i look up, to see a new face sitting in the chorus. there's something about this face. she's not pretty. i've seen better looking dogs. but there's something about her face, and her smile. she's nervous, but she's hiding it well.
and that voice...i've never heard anything like it. i think i m starting to stare at her. what the hell?!!!
Monday, April 16, 2007
bermuhasabah...(i)
yang ragu, yang dipersoalkan, yang sememangnya tidak terjawab...
suatu perjalanan yang masih tiada penghujungnya. aku masih tercari-cari jawapan yang akan menghilangkan kekaburan yang tersemat dalam sanubaiku. tetapi di manakah ku harus mula?
teringatkan kembali kata-kata yang pernah diucap kepada aku - segala yang berlaku pasti mempunyai hikmahnya. dan walaupun perjalanan kehidupan penuh dengan cabaran, dugaan dan ranjau yang seolah-olah tidak berbatas, aku akan meneruskannya dengan semangat yang baru, yang bersinar seperti fajar menyingsing.
dan apa yang tidak lagi bermakna, yang sudah menjadi satu kenangan semata-mata ...
pasrah, aku tidak akan ingkar terhadap apa yang sudah diberi kepadaku.
ya Tuhan, kuatkanlah imanku dan jadikanlah segala yang berlaku satu pengajaran dan satu panduan kepadaku.
kerana tanpa doaMu dan bantuanMu, aku tidak terdaya melakukan apa-apa.
semoga berkat Ilahi akan melimpah ruah dalam kehidupan kami semua, inilah yang aku sampaikan kepada rakan-rakan seperjuanganku yang dikasihi.
dan walaupun persoalanku masih tidak terjawab, hatiku tenang, hatiku sabar.
suatu perjalanan yang masih tiada penghujungnya. aku masih tercari-cari jawapan yang akan menghilangkan kekaburan yang tersemat dalam sanubaiku. tetapi di manakah ku harus mula?
teringatkan kembali kata-kata yang pernah diucap kepada aku - segala yang berlaku pasti mempunyai hikmahnya. dan walaupun perjalanan kehidupan penuh dengan cabaran, dugaan dan ranjau yang seolah-olah tidak berbatas, aku akan meneruskannya dengan semangat yang baru, yang bersinar seperti fajar menyingsing.
dan apa yang tidak lagi bermakna, yang sudah menjadi satu kenangan semata-mata ...
pasrah, aku tidak akan ingkar terhadap apa yang sudah diberi kepadaku.
ya Tuhan, kuatkanlah imanku dan jadikanlah segala yang berlaku satu pengajaran dan satu panduan kepadaku.
kerana tanpa doaMu dan bantuanMu, aku tidak terdaya melakukan apa-apa.
semoga berkat Ilahi akan melimpah ruah dalam kehidupan kami semua, inilah yang aku sampaikan kepada rakan-rakan seperjuanganku yang dikasihi.
dan walaupun persoalanku masih tidak terjawab, hatiku tenang, hatiku sabar.
Friday, March 23, 2007
beyond boundaries
sometimes when the boundaries of time and space are clear to me, it seems that there is nothing that humans being can do which will not somehow be eroded by the passage of time, and become nothing more than a forgotten memory.
but boundaries or not, i seek to move beyond them, and even if this life is nothing more than a sojourn into nothingness, then i plunge into it with an open heart, open mind and open eyes.
the journey i thought was almost over, and the journey which i sought to undertake is really the same one which i started out on. this time i am ready. this time i will move forward.
from all that has been given me, love, faith, hope, the mind, the soul, the heart, the feelings, the gifts and abilities, and ultimately life...i will make something good of it. and in so doing, discover the truth.
John 8:32 'then you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.'
but boundaries or not, i seek to move beyond them, and even if this life is nothing more than a sojourn into nothingness, then i plunge into it with an open heart, open mind and open eyes.
the journey i thought was almost over, and the journey which i sought to undertake is really the same one which i started out on. this time i am ready. this time i will move forward.
from all that has been given me, love, faith, hope, the mind, the soul, the heart, the feelings, the gifts and abilities, and ultimately life...i will make something good of it. and in so doing, discover the truth.
John 8:32 'then you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.'
Friday, March 16, 2007
rise and fall
the rise and fall happens on a daily basis, coming to know the ground a little bit more closely.
it is not a sprint, it is not a race ... it is walking on, come what may. my breath catches in my throat, and the rise and fall of my chest is in a rhythm that only i can hear. and which i know best, throbbing and pulsing, full of life blood and oxygen flowing through my veins...
i keep on learning, i keep on moving. and sometimes it's a little harder to do so. there are days when i know that no matter what, all i need to do is to keep on moving, even if it's only a small step... and then there are days when i know that i have covered entire continents in my mind and soul, where the metaphysical world has its own laws.
is there a destination? i wonder. ever so often it turns out to be yet another mile post, a marker of an achievement, something understood, something that has either become part of me, or i have put aside. and i keep my eyes on the journey, the way ahead is long, i've only really begun though it seems i have been walking for some time yet.
sometimes it's a bit lonely.
and sometimes, when i feel the wind wrap itself around my shoulders and my hair blows about, a tousled mess...when the sun is warm, and the sky a mild and gentle blue...then i realise i am alone. but never really lonely. and i smile back at the sky, continuing on my way.
it's nice to be alive.
it is not a sprint, it is not a race ... it is walking on, come what may. my breath catches in my throat, and the rise and fall of my chest is in a rhythm that only i can hear. and which i know best, throbbing and pulsing, full of life blood and oxygen flowing through my veins...
i keep on learning, i keep on moving. and sometimes it's a little harder to do so. there are days when i know that no matter what, all i need to do is to keep on moving, even if it's only a small step... and then there are days when i know that i have covered entire continents in my mind and soul, where the metaphysical world has its own laws.
is there a destination? i wonder. ever so often it turns out to be yet another mile post, a marker of an achievement, something understood, something that has either become part of me, or i have put aside. and i keep my eyes on the journey, the way ahead is long, i've only really begun though it seems i have been walking for some time yet.
sometimes it's a bit lonely.
and sometimes, when i feel the wind wrap itself around my shoulders and my hair blows about, a tousled mess...when the sun is warm, and the sky a mild and gentle blue...then i realise i am alone. but never really lonely. and i smile back at the sky, continuing on my way.
it's nice to be alive.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
dawnsong
the mornings are always cool, and i open the window to let the breeze in, and i think that when i do that, i also invite Him to come in. i know He is always there, and yet, just as i go to His house on Sundays to spend time with Him, i would like Him to come in and be with me, in the place where i live.
it is early yet, the sun is only beginning to rise, and the faint outline of stars begin to fade in the light of dawn.
i like the first few minutes of silence, a comfortable silence that only intimacy and truth and trust can yield to each other. and when He begins to speak, or when i begin to, the silence changes, and yet it is not harsh, or unnatural.
i open His word and read, absorbing all that He wishes to teach me. and i pray, prayer that starts out as simple words, petitions for my loved ones, myself, for the aches and pains of a broken world and ends as something far more profound that i know indeed the Spirit intercedes for me, beyond my capabilities.
but the best moments surely must be when He and i sing the dawnsong together, a symbol of our faith, our hope and our love. there are no words for the dawnsong, rather, it is a melody that each heart carries, and i too hear it in the most sacred and hidden part of my being.
i know that he enjoys these moments, and every morning, i am reminded that His presence is real and His love, life-changing.
it is early yet, the sun is only beginning to rise, and the faint outline of stars begin to fade in the light of dawn.
i like the first few minutes of silence, a comfortable silence that only intimacy and truth and trust can yield to each other. and when He begins to speak, or when i begin to, the silence changes, and yet it is not harsh, or unnatural.
i open His word and read, absorbing all that He wishes to teach me. and i pray, prayer that starts out as simple words, petitions for my loved ones, myself, for the aches and pains of a broken world and ends as something far more profound that i know indeed the Spirit intercedes for me, beyond my capabilities.
but the best moments surely must be when He and i sing the dawnsong together, a symbol of our faith, our hope and our love. there are no words for the dawnsong, rather, it is a melody that each heart carries, and i too hear it in the most sacred and hidden part of my being.
i know that he enjoys these moments, and every morning, i am reminded that His presence is real and His love, life-changing.
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