A Clock Stopped
poetry in progress
the old wooden clock at
the grocery store ticks on
and on on the wall of my mind
taking me back to childhood years
it peeks at me every time
i pass by one lone child
hungering for love and
sweet adventures
in it a mirror pendulum
stands very still to the one
in my mind that tilts to
to and fro, to and fro
a child concentrating
on his yo yo
the golden horse on its top
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Day's End
night divides as clearly
as the brightness of day
time cuts and doubly sharp
in the shadow of night
on the last train of tokyo subway
you see a woman, middled age
a goddess all on her own
face heavily painted
her fingers heavy with rings,
one of a big torquoise,
another white crystal,
and another plain gold
her powder betrays her
the lines cut through
leaving a chill
between the mouths
that in the silence
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I am the all the movies' heroes and heroines
i was a country boy
theatre was my life
and the country lanes my stage
the obliging country folks my audience.
day in day out i am all action in the lanes
bursting out with lines from the movies,
walking in the styles of tarzan,
Chinese swordsfighters, ballet stars,
james bond, snow white, the seven dwarfs, mickey mouse, donald duck, bruce lee, and even dainty Chinese heroines.
times and again, after school, our neighbourhood would be abuzz with our
swordsfighting contest;
our teams fought with hands karate-styled
and those striken at apart from the hands
and arms were considered losers.
brothers all joined in this fun
which became the climax of our country days.
schools were boring.
our parents must be very glad that
we did not have spider men then
or else they would have to talk us into
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Dream - Love
dream - love
his brush
swept
through
the canvas
the skill
of a ballet
dancer
round, twirl,
trailing
my bodice
wave
and wave
of water
colours
a world
livened up
me taking
shape
wave
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Love for a Child
mom never went to school
but that never became a problem
between me and her
if anything, it heightens
my awareness
of her predicardment
my love for her
each time she expresses
something with the fear
that she would go wrong
to educate me and now
to feel the fear of being ridiculed
my eyes turn warm with tears
mother's love sealed
in a box of love, care, self sacrifice
as she gropes to know
about the world herself
a woman's basest instinct
filtered through the love of a child
gems dropping from the sky
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Aboard At A Ship's Helm
the island with the gracious mountain
the tip of the boat inches steadily forward
my heart angled between it
one hour, two hours, three hours
the mountain looms so grand but so far
the boat plods on... and on
bumping against the wave
going up down, up down
the swirling birds, how fortunate they are up there
i put my bored mind into their wings
and travel to realms that excite the mind and senses
of man and wife and children
that run between the trees, shrubs
that flip past my eyes
i put stories into the houses that run
away so fast from view
warm stories of infatuation, continuous love making
where the world revolves around
a man and woman, and their senses
the halcyon day stays as it is
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A March in the Ranks, Hard Prest
all fought for a reason
the liberators fought, hid
the freedom fighters, fought, hid
ambushed once in a while lopping off heads
that rolled over the sand, grisly blood
oozing down our eyes turning
our hearts cold as ice our hair
raised themselves like armies of
soldiers ready for action
the conflicts rage on in the deserts,
in the towns, in the cities a thousand
miles away which unsettle the souls likewise
a nightmare that has been stealing the light
of our days and our nights from days
the fall of the twin towers in New York
has crushed our cherished dreams
like a bed of wilted roses wrinkled
petals splayed, sprinting listlessly
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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All Is Truth
it is a lie
i am not myself
i am all of nature
the air, water, grass
every thing in everything
i am not myself
how can i be myself
when if the air goes away
i too have to go away
proving that i am but a lie
i am but a cog in the wheel
it is a lie
i am not myself
i am all of nature
the water, the grass, the clouds
how could i be myself
when if the water runs its last drop
i too would too have to make that last pause from the world
those teachers who get me to think i am just
body and bones are liars
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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An Agent I am
in me
the identity of the tree
as i look
and as i talk
i help it send a message
of its existence
so as the next tree
and the next tree
and the next
from the mountain too
i receive a signal
that latches onto my inner self
and every object in sight
the rain, thunder
dance of nature
i am pulled into
the feeling
that each object
arouses in me
a stamp
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Through Your Eyes
through your eyes a spring,
a summer, an autumn, winter
the ingratiating smile your eyes
reflect a river of passion
summer laughter, autumnal walk,
romantic candlelit valentine
the carvort of light and shadow
takes us through the corridors of night
the gems of love sparkle like stars
i gather them onto a page every word
echoes you as we shed layers
of ourselves like divine flowers
like how leaves freeze time to give us
a cherished outing in scarlet and sepia
a sweeping odyssey the light of fall translates so well
a red blazing orb, an entree to a season
so pleasurable and mersmerising to hold onto
through your eyes a spring,
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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