Poetry and Fireworks (formerly "Untitled 11")

Last year, as the year ended, I stayed up

All by myself, watching the bright light show.

As loud noises joined the technicolor,

I stayed inside and did what I always.

Well, it was poetry, for that matter,

And I did not want to miss the display.

Perhaps the old years were a bit more free...
I had not much to care about.  Not much.
Not until I had poetry, as thus,
And though it felt more obligatory
Than optional, I liked it. I grasped it.

That night, as I watched, I knew:  in my soul,
There was a longing that felt like fireworks.
Big. Bright. Loud. Explosive. Annoying. Swell.

[old] Dinner Outside Earth

Published on June 24, 2008, via Triond. I'll forever miss being this hilarious.  Awesome, hilarious poetry indeed!  If I remember correctly, this was a homework for 1st year high school creative writing class (an elective).  For that homework, we were told to list down words that began with the first letter of the name we are called (mine is S).  Using those words, we were to write a poem, and this poem was made.

On a cold night in September,
I ate a star so tender.
It tasted like a sandwich
That made my tongue twitch.
Once I tasted that star,
I wanted to go as far…
To taste the solar system and everything…
And drink the Milky Way--anything!
Won't it be really fun
To have a taste of the sun?
AH…the taste of red-hot chili!
Won't that be just so silly?
If ever you run out of grapes
While you're outside in space,
Go to Pluto and eat it…
Though it's bigger than your face!
Your meal outside earth is now complete--
With Pluto as dessert, and asteroids as meat!
A cool sip from the Milky Way
Will brighten up your day!
Play “dodge ball” with the sun,
But just avoid a ray.
When you play with the solar system,
You'll never again want to miss 'em!
Just wait for another night,
And they'll be back in sight.

[old] On the Other Side of the Wall

I published this poem five years ago on May 30, 2008, with the description: "I woke up from a dream, and I don’t consider it a dream… it was real."  I think poems are dreams given form.

If we believe in fantasy and happily ever after,
What on earth would life be like if all we had was laughter?
Would we know of challenges if there wasn’t a challenge at all?
Would we know how to stand up if we've never had a fall?
Would we ever learn what's right if we've never made mistakes?
If happiness were only for one day, for what do we stay awake?
So if we believe in fantasy and happily ever after.

Think again for this world's not only for laughter.

Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/on-the-other-side-of-the-wall/#ixzz2TvP6Hs3l

[old] I'm Secretly a Writer

I published this on Triond back in May 31, 2008, and back then, I used to think that being a writer was like having some kind of superhero capability which one had to conceal.  Funny thing to think, yes, but this poem turns out natural and sweet.  Reading this five years after (now at 17 years), I miss the childish innocence I once had and wrote with.

I can write anything I could.

That is, if I would...
I can write about anything,
And laughter or tears I can bring.
I can write about myself,
Or about something plain, like a bookshelf.
If I dream about the stars,
My writing could go as far.
If I write about a rainbow,
I know how far it could go.
I can sing a simple song,
And make it very long.
My writing could make it strong...
But some things might just go wrong.
I can write about anyone-
Whether alive or when he's gone.
I can scare people off their veins...
For writing for scares is just an old game.
I could write something they never knew,
And make them think the whole night through.
I could write something
To make them understand,
That there are certain times
I don't want to choose their brand.
I can write something
And give them a stern look.
Don't you ever, ever...
Judge me like a book!
I can write about God,
And tell them why He's great,
For the reason why I write
Is all because of faith.
I can write about His love,
And watch it as it grows.
I think nothing could compare to it,
As all His children know.
I can write about romance,
And make boring people dance.
I could place myself in it,
Though it never happened one bit!
I could write a poem
That I've never written before,
(Maybe something like this one...)
And see how high it will soar.
You might think I'm great.
You might think I'm fine,
But some of my poems may require you
To read between the lines.
I write one thing at a time,
But they may take a while.
Well maybe that's 'coz I'm a writer,
And I have my own style.
Though not everyone knows this secret,
I do not want them to know that
I'm secretly a writer,
And I write with a pen that's fat. :)

[old] On Comet Lulin's Fall

Now this one's really old.  I published this on Triond on March 14, 2009, the year I was so fixated on online publishing and blogging but didn't have so much to write about.  Well, at least I tried... and at least I know where to go scouting for my old works if not on a stack of old paper.  This was the year I literally fell for astronomy after so many nights of watching stars and reading Shakespeare...and the same year I thought good poems had to be written in Shakespeare English. Probably my first attempt on free verse.

You are not alone out there,

With all those stars and planets.

But you’re a beauty, Comet Lulin!

You stand out among comets.

Comet Lulin so green,

You’re the most beautiful thing

I have ever seen!

Comet that fell from above,

Astronomers view you with love.

As seen in those sky trails…

That comet so green, so hot

Was cold and lost its tail.

Some would forget not.

Today’s the day, you see,

And the excitement–just wait.

For thou old Comet Lulin

Will be in thy glorious fate.

Years pass quickly, ol’ comet,

And you will be forgotten.

That comet that once was so green

Might later never be seen.

This space is full of comets

So different from where you are,

And many will be interested

In another comet or star.

So dear old Comet Lulin,

So green you are today!

On the 24th of February,

We will watch your way.

I am still so young,

With so many to explore.

You’re one of them, ol’ Lulin,

And I’m still wanting more.

I’ve always loved astronomy,

But it may be hard to believe

That science is my worst subject,

So it makes me want to grieve.

I dedicate this to the ones

That has first discovered you.

In many years’ time, I will forget thee…

But I’ll never forget the day

I’ve started loving astronomy.

February 24, 2009, Tuesday

Comet Lulin’s Fall

Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/comet-lulins-fall/#ixzz2TvBsTpVI

[old] RAENAN

A Broadway song goes something like "Bring out the old/Bring in the new...A midnight wish/To share with you..." I like wishes, but I disagree with the first part.  As an amateur poet, nothing makes me feel better than rereading my old poems (hence bringing the old back to life again on this blog) and seeing how much I've grown as a person and as a writer.  I wrote this for my friend Raenan Tiu on his fifteenth birthday, October 24, 2010.  This was written on the 21st and given midnight of the 23rd.

Raindrops fall like tears from the face of a wounded sky,

The wind sings a gentle song… a soft-breeze lullaby.

The rain that falls reminds me of you in every single way,

And as it rains today, I’d want to say… Happy Birthday!!!

As the rain falls, as it always does these rainy days;

As the clouds cover the sky like a roll of fluffy lace,

The memories of you and everyone fill up the white space;

The rain still brings light, even in a dark place.

Enjoy every rain and every sun,

Or whatever the weather, ‘coz that’s what makes it fun.

When the rain falls from the sky,

I remember you, and this is why:

Not only because it’s close to your name…

Do you remember the “poking game”?

You always made me laugh when we were kids,

And you help me sometimes when I’m on the skids.

A poem is something that I could easily do,

But I write a poem today to show my appreciation for you…

You’re one of my greatest friends, and you’ve been good to me;

Just do what’s right and be the best that you could be.

Never fade away from doing what is right.

Always love God with all your heart, soul and might.

Rain is loud and scary during a dark night (and even I get scared),

But keep your faith (Gardez la Foi) and it will carry you to the light.

Traveling to Merlion Park and Stopping By...

Mystical lion of Singapore,
What are you?
They call you...Singha,
And you bathe in gold
Sometimes.
By night, your crystalline
Mane turns lychee and coins;
The moon takes it away
Until the sun comes to paint it gold again.

If I can touch your cold tail
In the morning, I can touch
The smooth scales of heaven
Because you live in paradise
Where the sun shines forever
In your eyes. Your voice
Hears of waves of power
And honor that sing out a song
To old Singapore...

You look almost like heaven
(Your air is fresh,
Your streets are fine);
You're made finely of pure gold
Everywhere...
There may never be
A place of correction
In this place
Of sweet perfection...

Singha, what do you see?
Mystical lion of Singapore,
Have you any sight of blemish
In this land we cherish?
Every highway tree,
A drop of heaven's splendor...
Every speck we see,
A breath of fine surrender...
A sight like never before

...and a bittersweet reminder
That we're not in heaven yet.
The merlion never sleeps.
No one sleeps at all, and no one weeps
Too much. Old Singapore
Has the composure of youth
With towers of vibrance (brilliance) on every corner...
There's a slice of endless dreamland
On the park where Singha stands.

Queen of Hearts

I wrote with this poem due to too much excess brain fuzz.

The Queen of Hearts says nothing for she
Had grown weary.  Love changes everything, they say.
Love tore her person in two. "What hard love," she thought.
And they were right, but she was wrong.  I know
That love is a spot healer--an antidote. It heals, makes new.
I love what love can do.  It soars, breaks free.
I love what love can be.

The Queen of Hearts knew somehow that she
Had thought wrongly.  Love changed her broken heart one day.
Love gave her strength to love on.  That was love, she thought.
And she was right; yes, love is strong.  I know
That love is a dream-weaver--a telescope.  It cares, sees through.
I love what love can do.  It gives, for free.
I love what love can be.