They Come On

They come on
In little bits and pieces
As a suggestion and a little nag
That pokes and jab at you;

It is as though they’re saying,
‘Time to take heed and watch out’
We may come for you
All over again (if you’re not careful);

They continue to tease you
Making you itch a little
Through light irritation
Sometimes a little bit more;

Then they come in patches:
That is when we know
We need to keep watch and maybe
Start examining and making change;

Still bearable it seems
We console ourselves
Poking at the little patches
Thinking it would go away;

Then they start their full assault
Taking over (your) control
Leaving you in drapes and
Perhaps in bewilderment and regret;

Why
Then you may ask yourself,
Did you not take heed and
Take precautionary measures?

Maybe the host is not strong:
Not as strong as he thinks he is
Not as in control as he likes to be
Not as clever as he seeks to be;

Maybe the fall began
In winter twenty one six.

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Minute Hours

The clock strikes twelve:

The minute hand goes back and forth
Undecided on the twelfth hour
Whether to be five minutes early
Or five minutes late;

The hour hand looks on
Almost in disgust at how
The minute hand oscilates
As though in two minds;

Between the hour and minute hands
They can’t decide who moves on
Or who calls the shots
In affairs of moment and time;

Little wonder when it comes
To the brain and the heart!

The Shooting Star 

“I believe in speed, not endurance.”

The statement above isn’t really wise in the long run (pun, if you get it! Haha.) both literally and figuratively, because to go far you need more than just a brilliant streak. You’d need sustained brilliance, and that is how it ensures you do not burn out or die off too early. You can ask Usain Bolt, he’s the fastest man on earth but he sure has endurance and he trains on his endurance in order to train his burst and speed. 

However, some people are really like the statement above and they do believe in it. It’s not their fault, but that’s just how they are and that’s how they think. They are like a brilliant flash, and after that they fade into oblivion but leave a lasting effect.

Think of a shooting star. You never see them around much, but when you see one.. It illuminates the night sky and it illuminates your life too. It appears when you least expect it to, and many a time it appears when you’re dozing off after waiting too long hoping to catch it, but with the little bit of energy you have left.. You’re filled with joy and ecstasy as you see it grace the night sky while you hurry to make a wish.

And then, it’s gone. That’s it. It came, it shone, and it left without saying goodbye. But you’ll remember it for the rest of your life. 

Some people are like that. They are not for the long run; they are for the moment. They are not here to stay, but while they’re here they make a huge impact and make their presence felt. They’re like shooting stars. They are speed, not endurance.

I’m starting to think this post doesn’t make much sense, but I think we all sort of get the idea. I’m sure you have someone who came into your life, changed the way you see the world, and left pretty much as sudden as they came. 

The world had them in Bruce Lee, Elvis Presley, John Lennon and many more.. and we all have them in our own worlds, albeit at a scale smaller to the world but no less significant to us.  

Who in your life do you think would say something like that?

Autumn Leaves (As If Not In Singapore)

One will never know how hard it is to sweep leaves away
Until one has done it before:

They spread as you gather them
They head north as you try to get them South
They are everywhere when you want them at one place
They seem to almost have a life of their own;

Under the sweltering heat you sweep them
As beads of perspiration form like a necklace around your neck
And when you think all is still in a heap under the sun
A gust of wind blows and they take flight as you look on and sigh;

You look at the dead leaves fall on the ground
A reminder of what once was the crowning beauty of a majestic tree
Reduced to nothing but a pile of lifelessness to be swept away
To make space for the cycle of life that goes on regardless;

Oh how hard it is to sweep away the leaves of yesterday!

Somehow the above lines, after being written, feels a little like a metaphor for memories and things of the past (yesterday), that has to go in order to make space for what is to come. This is the cycle of life, that what has come must go, and what has gone will have to come round again. Sounds slightly nostalgia, but this continuity is itself the essence of life.

Reverie, Memories

Standing in the middle of the square
Looking around at people everywhere
A million scenes flash before his eyes
Trying not to think of all those dreadful lies;

His dad told him to write a poem with a rhyme
Like how he thought writing without one was a crime
But all that doesn’t mean much to him now
Standing there thinking nothing but why and how;

He remembers the times she waited for him by the shop
Looking at the spot now he almost sees her in her spaghetti top
But all that is nothing more than just a distant pain
Standing there alone staring at the same spot in the rain;

The poem has long expired from the first word on
The fact of the matter is nothing more than ‘now she’s gone’
Yet lost deep in his memories he sees her again
And off he runs after her not knowing it is all in vain;

Reverie, memories.

No Comfort Nor Warmth

She was a keeper in every sense of the word and he thought
He could dominate her and possess every bit of her as if
She belonged wholly to him – every single inch of her all under
His control and all for his manipulation and order;

He never would have thought that one day even this faithful of a girl
Could get tired enough to turn around and walk away from him – forever
Never to ever return a call or a text or to even see him once ever again:
Gone like the autumn breeze which never again would drift by for a moment in time;

It was when the autumn breeze no longer caressed the back of his hair
That he realised he should have enjoyed the magic in the air a little more
And cherish the lightness in his spirits and steps which she brought him –
A spark which only she and she alone could ignite and make blossom;

With her and autumn gone there only was
The coldness of winter left to comfort him:

That which is of no comfort nor warmth.

(Very loose writing inspired by three lines describing a relationship; a relationship which has past and is likely a forgotten memory. It’s a five minutes job in a cafe while chatting with a friend, but I still hope it is worth a read.)

Taking The Home Stretch

(5 minute challenge let’s go)

 

It is in faith the very same distance,
But there are a thousand different ways to cover these metres,
And everyone does it in a different way and a different style,
At paces that vary from position to position and time to time;

It still is the same distance really,
Yet from the first stride we can see promise in some
While others are dismissed as not anywhere near winners,
That is if they get to cover the full distance at all;

It is a distance we all know for ourselves:
A bend then a straight and another bend then another straight,
It looks simple and feels little more than just covering the distance,
But beware the trophy and the medal and the audience that watches;

It is really four hundred metres without a metre more or less,
Where you are tested for speed and for endurance both
Of the body and mind to cross the finishing line and blaze the trail,
To come out above the distance and emerge at the close;

Now tell me:

Would you take the first bend slow,
Or would you take the home stretch bold?

 

(It is possible to capture life in a race, because life in essence is a race against time to complete and achieve as many things as possible in the shortest possible time, of which contentment and happiness counts for a large part of it.)