Time

I caught myself day dreaming today and scribbling the names of the months ahead down. There was April, then May and June and slowly, I found myself thinking of the months in a curve. It was as if the year was a circle and in my mind's eye I was walking down time lane. It was curving. I caught myself in a curve and halted then wrote this...


I see time ahead of me.
Curving into weeks, months and quarters,
forming a full circle,
making a complete year.
Then spiralling into the decades
that make up my life.

Pick any point in time,
a fleeting second or a moment, and
it's a pixel
in a continuously spiralling canvas,
hovering in mid space.

The starting point was a dot,
the tip of the spiral of a cone,
the moment I was created and told to be.

Our end may not be as harshly finite and defined.
A gentle wisp
like the edge of a ripple,
left to ponder on the time before its time,
and what we made of it and how it came to be.

I see time in a bright shade of grey,
or perhaps violet
and blue
combined,
in moderation to the eye.

I see it in different shades,
in different shapes,
for each one of us
blended
merged to our own form.

Ode to 'Wisdoms' Gone By

O Wisdom, your name!
You send notions of splendour,
with due respect and fame,
rarely met with real candour.

Four corners you strain,
at the point of a finger,
and a thought so lame,
"Why am I borne?" you wonder.

Your short lived acclaim,
stays through your peers - much grander,
but never the same
will your end be any kinder.

An end with no maim,
a mouth no less slender,
an end with no shame,
not even of murder.

Once thought of as game
to dispose of, like a vendor
who calls to proclaim,
invitation to tender.

O Wisdom, you came,
cutting through from way way under,
your words far from tame,
far from idle, far from banter.

Now you're just a frame,
can't lean on - you've gone tender,
a real tooth (exclaim!)
you're found in any gender.

The dentist proclaimed today that the best solution for the deep cavity lying beneath an already partially cemented and fairly subdued existence of a wisdom tooth was extraction. The words sent shudders through my root canal. 

My wisdom teeth have had their share of varied opinions from the haves and have-nots of extraction. There were those who saw it as affording itself the right to exist just by having gone through the effort of breaking through my gum surface and sitting in an egalitarian sense beside a 'regular' tooth, ready to observe its dental duties just like any other tooth. There were others who just saw it as another nuisance of a wisdom tooth that had to be destroyed forever more lest it should do future harm to the teeth nearby. In the end my gentler notions gave in, mostly due to my fear of dentists, injections and anything related. And over the years I never ever thought of these four 'pearlies' as my wisdom teeth. They were just like any other. When someone would speak about their wisdom tooth needing extraction, I would smile smugly and say that I still have mine and it was a case of till death do us part. There were occasions when I did have to visit the dentist for a sanity check - my teeth's that is. But so far it had always been more than one lucky fluke for these wisdom teeth of mine. No dentist had uttered the words extraction since my teens and the dentists I saw went about their tasks of cementing and filling in cavities that they were meant to bear. Of course, until today. 

It seems that everything does have to come to an end. My love affair with my wisdoms was under cut-throat-knife threat. The dentist stood there and bluntly gave me my two options. Root canal, treatment then crown if there is anything left of the tooth by then (he said casually) or extract it and forget about it forever (again casually). Shamelessly and without a shred of hesitation it was the instant judgement of: death of a tooth. And almost immediately, I felt its traits come alive. Don't call me tooth. Call me by my name. I'm nothing but a wisdom, shunned and unloved destined to an end, sometimes even before its begun. Momentary guilt pangs were no sooner than washed away. 

Finally, I can say that I am removing my wisdoms! And while the other three remaining wisdoms will mourn its loss in 2 weeks time when I am due to visit my evil dentist, I am sure that the only thing that will remind me of the missing wisdom is the post-mortem pain from the surgery. Perhaps a roaming, wandering tongue too...

Winning poems

I recently took part in the Protag poetry competition and I was so excited when I came second place! Here are some of my winning poems:

Autumn is in the Leaves

A gushing wind charges,

Through my thoughts and leaves,

Caught by surprise, broken,

by seasonal peeves.

Once true to intense monotone,

Leaves start falling to show colour,

Yellow, amber, crimson and brown

Clutter my head like no other.

The sound of mellowness crunches

Beneath a changing gait

Until a scattered, playful blanket

gives way to autumn fate.

Autumn is in the leaves

No other season can relate

A periodical festivity captured

In leaves of colour so ornate.

The Manor of the Fall

There was once long ago,

a man of great wealth,

and accumulated powers,

he was caught up in stealth.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

Then one day a young girl,

of sharp mind and manner,

struck up a friendship,

and moved into his manor.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

She’d become the wife,

to a man she despised,

but her solace was revenge,

and her feelings disguised.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

This man concealed a history,

of corruption and theft,

and showed no mercy to allies,

whom he left quite bereft.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

Her scheme was in action,

to expose him from within,

and return all the money,

that he’d robbed off her kin.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

On a dark moonless night,

she carried out her plan,

with the help of the guards,

from the council she ran.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

The guards broke in to the manor,

seizing all the money and deeds,

which he’d stolen and deprived,

citizens of their land and needs.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

The man was soon sentenced,

to a long lifetime in a cell,

but his legend still stands,

as witness to the man who fell.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

His wife revealed her identity,

a young princess to the land,

whose father she’d seen murdered,

by the tyrant’s heavy hand.

Let courage make way for a truth revealed,

A secret that can no longer be sealed.

The manor still stands on its hill,

testament to see today,

that only with courage and wisdom

can justice make forth its way.

Poetry Tournament

I thought I would take part in the Protagonize Seasonal Poetry Tournament. My poetry writing skills were quite rusty so I was not expecting much, just a whole load of fun and much practice. Funny thing is I made it to the penultimate round but did not make it to the final. Good enough for me and great fun too. Here are the poems I submitted as part of the challenges in the order they were submitted:

Title: Hunting the Hunter

Animal: Fox

I pricked up my ears and followed the scent,

With food aplenty, only fools would relent.

My nose twitched, excited, as my eyes scanned the field,

One prey then two, I counted, their fate would soon be sealed.

I charged and attacked, dug my teeth in but backtracked,

A loud bang resounded, then blood flowed from impact.

It seems that I, the hunter, was also the hunted,

By two legged mammals, I had been outsmarted.


An acrostic poem about my worst fear

Losing sense of those around,
Often I find I am pushing away,
Naked displays of ardour, to
easily find a way to downplay,
Longings, of many a face, those deep
images of grace and love but
Not here. I’m without a smile,
Elbowing away companionship and
Staying in exile,
Sailing away, a hundred and more a mile.

Title: Giving in and Giving out

Event: Famine

She’s slumped in despair trying hard to stop needing,

While her baby cries,

Her body crippled and deprived takes on another beating,

And she sighs.

Aching to find a thick slab of stone and around her waist she ties,

Still hunger lingers,

Her baby’s tears, streaming down a ghostly face, are food for the flies,

Fists enclose fingers.

A parched existence continues for today kept alive by singers,

in the camp,

it is a song that cuts through the endless pain, thirst, frailty and hinders,

a stomach clamp.

Thoughts of long gone days of nourishment invade leaving a stamp,

In her mind,

It does nothing but intensifies the destitute longing and she feels a cramp,

She is resigned.

Dizziness whirls her around and soon her vision is less defined,

Fighting on she tries,

But her baby has gone awfully quiet and in darkness she’s enshrined,

Slipping away she dies.